7
827 Words
Sasha’s POV
The photo never left my pocket.
I didn’t look at it again. Didn’t need to. It had already carved itself into my mind. That flicker of fabric. The bind beneath. Proof that someone out there knew, and wanted me to know they knew. I'm glad Alex didn't notice it in the photo.
The silence in the dorm that morning was a different kind of loud.
Alex didn’t mention the envelope again. Didn’t ask questions. But his eyes lingered too long, tracking my every movement like a soldier watching for sudden threats. Or like a hunter waiting for a creature to reveal what it really was.
I could feel the weight of it, his curiosity. His suspicion.
And worse... his patience.
Because Alex Knight wasn’t reckless.
He was waiting.
I kept my eyes low as I stripped my bed, tucked the photo under my mattress, then shoved my hoodie sleeves over the bruises blooming like ink across my ribs. My scent was suppressed thanks to the potion. But the ache of the bruises hadn't healed. Every breath reminded me of Cael’s grip. Of how close I’d come to losing control. Of how close I was to unraveling.
Breakfast was a blur.
Food tasted like ash, and I chewed mechanically, keeping to the outer edge of the mess hall. But even in the noise and bustle of a hundred boys eating and shoving and shouting, I could feel it.
That stare.
Silver eyes. Across the hall.
Unblinking.
Later, in strategy class, I found myself seated beside him. Not by choice, of course not. But somehow, every time I sat down, he appeared beside me like a shadow. Close enough for his scent, dark pine and frost, to crawl under my skin.
“Stop flinching every time I breathe,” he said quietly without looking at me.
I didn’t answer.
Didn’t trust my voice.
“You act like you’re prey,” he added, pen tapping softly against his page. “But you fight like something wild. Which is it?”
I forced my jaw to unclench. “Maybe I’m both.”
He glanced at me then, the faintest tilt of his mouth. Not quite a smile.
But not a smile, either.
When class ended, I bolted. I needed air. Space. Distance from that room, that stare, this entire Academy, and the bloodstained rules it ran on.
I wandered.
Past the training fields, where weapons gleamed in the sun. Past the mess hall, where laughter turned into growls. Until I ended up at the old fencing hall, abandoned since the fire last year, its stone walls half-blackened, the floor scorched and cracked.
It was quiet.
Empty.
Safe.
I sank to the floor beside a ruined pillar, resting my back against it, legs stretched in front of me. The binder bit into my ribs. The bruises throbbed. But for the first time all day, no one was watching.
Or so I thought.
“You have a habit of finding the corners no one else looks in.”
My pulse stuttered.
Alex.
Again.
Always.
He stepped through the broken doorway like a ghost, silver eyes catching on mine. But this time, he didn’t come any closer. He leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.
“Didn’t know this place was restricted,” I said, keeping my voice even.
“It’s not,” he replied. “Just forgotten.”
We stared at each other across the ruins.
“You following me now?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “Just making sure you don’t disappear.”
My heart skipped. “Is that some kind of threat?”
“No,” he said again. “A guess.”
I looked away, jaw tight.
“You’re scared,” he said after a long pause.
“You don’t know me,” I shot back.
“I don’t have to.” His voice dropped. “I know fear. I know what it looks like when someone wears it like armor.”
My fingers curled into fists.
He took a slow step forward. “Who hurt you before Cael?”
The question punched the breath from my lungs.
I looked up sharply. “Why do you care?”
He paused, then said, “Because people like Cael don’t break people like you in one night. They just reopen old wounds.”
I couldn’t answer.
Wouldn’t.
So I stood.
And so did he.
The space between us shrank to a breath. I could feel the heat of him. The weight of everything unspoken pressing into the cracks I tried to hide.
“I don’t need your help,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said, his gaze burning. “But you do need someone who’s not trying to destroy you.”
I stepped back.
Too much. Too close.
I turned and walked away without another word.
He didn’t follow this time.
But I could feel him behind me.
Always watching.
Always waiting.
- Writer
