5
933 Words
Sasha's POV
The cold from the courtyard clung to my bones as I crept through the east corridor, avoiding torchlight like it could burn through fabric and bone. Every step sent a jolt through my ribs, and the bruises Cael left throbbed in sync with my heartbeat. I tugged my hoodie low, the collar scratching against the raw skin in my throat where his fingers had crushed down.
I’d barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face inches from mine. Felt the weight of his hands, the wild, brutal rage behind his eyes. And then...
Alex.
His voice echoing through that corridor still rang in my ears. Calm. Cold. Commanding.
I should’ve felt relieved he showed up.
Instead, I felt watched.
Hunted.
Because Alex Knight wasn’t the kind of guy who stumbled across things.
He was the kind who hunted down truths. Even the dangerous ones.
They summoned me to the infirmary before midday classes. “Routine post-combat evaluations,” the upperclassman said, his tone casual, but his eyes lingered too long.
Inside, the air was thick with antiseptic and dried herbs. I sat on the edge of a low cot while Healer Marwen, a woman with sharp grey eyes and silver hair braided to her waist, scribbled something on a parchment clipboard.
“Name?” she asked without looking up.
“Rowan Dean,” I said, my voice lower than usual. My throat was still raw.
Her eyes flicked up, lingering on the red blooming beneath my jaw. “Remove your shirt.”
Panic surged so fast I nearly choked on it. “Bruised ribs,” I said quickly. “Nothing broken. I’d prefer not to... I just need a balm or something.”
Her eyebrow lifted. “Protocol is protocol. Shirt off.”
My mind raced.
I couldn’t. The binder would give me away immediately. Too tight. Too full. Too obvious.
I clutched my side, hissing. “Hurts too much to move like that. Can you just look at the bruises on my neck?”
She narrowed her eyes, then moved closer, brushing her fingers near my jaw. Cold. Professional. And somehow still invasive.
“Pulse is racing,” she murmured. “You’re scared.”
I didn’t respond.
She straightened, scribbled something, then met my eyes. “Secrets rot the flesh, boy. Be careful what you bury beneath the skin.”
I left before I started shaking.
By late afternoon, I couldn’t avoid the courtyard. Combat drills resumed, and though they didn’t pair me with anyone, I still had to run laps around the ring under the watchful gaze of Knight.
He stood with the instructors, stoic, unreadable, arms crossed.
And watching me.
Always watching.
Every time I glanced up, his eyes were there.
I pretended not to care. I bit down on the panic and ran until my lungs burned.
That evening, I slipped into the library. It was always empty after dinner. Quiet. Safe.
I thought I’d be alone.
I was wrong.
“Dean.”
I jumped. His voice again. Low. Smooth. Cutting through silence like a blade.
Alex Knight stood between the towering shelves, one hand braced against the bookcase, silver eyes pinned to me.
My heart lunged.
“Looking for something?” I said, voice sharp.
He stepped forward. “Answers.”
“To what?”
“To who the hell are you?”
I froze. Just for a second. Then masked it.
“You always this friendly with first-years?” I asked, stepping sideways.
He moved with me, quiet as a shadow. “You didn’t report Cael.”
“Didn’t need to.”
“You fought like someone trained for years. Then froze when he touched your throat.”
He was too close now.
I backed into a bookcase. Hard wood hit my shoulder blades.
Alex didn’t touch me. But his presence pressed in like a storm front.
“You’re hiding something,” he said, voice a whisper now. “And I don’t like mysteries that breathe.”
I forced a bitter smirk. “So kill me, then.”
His jaw tightened. “If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have done it in that hallway.”
“Then why follow me?”
His eyes flicked down to the fading bruise on my neck. Something dark flared in them.
“You remind me of someone I knew,” he murmured.
That caught me off guard.
For one second, his voice wasn’t cold. It was... haunted.
Then it was gone.
I slid sideways, stepping out of his shadow. “Thanks for the rescue. But I can take care of myself.”
“You couldn’t stop Cael,” he said flatly.
“I didn’t need to. You showed up.”
He smiled then. Just barely. But it didn’t reach his eyes.
“You keep running, Dean. Secrets like yours have claws. And one day, they’ll tear you open from the inside.”
By the time I reached my dorm, my legs were trembling.
I shut the door behind me, peeled off the hoodie, and collapsed onto the narrow bed. My ribs screamed. My head spun.
And then I saw it.
A white envelope.
Unmarked.
Sitting on my pillow.
I snatched it up, heart hammering.
Inside was a single piece of parchment.
Scrawled in jagged ink:
“You should’ve lost that fight, Dean. Stay in your lane.”
And below that...
A blurred photograph.
Of me.
Mid-fight. My hoodie yanked slightly. Just enough that the compression outline was visible through the fabric.
My blood turned to ice.
Someone knew.
Someone saw.
And they were watching.
- Writer
