Chapter 2: The Library Incident
559 Words
POV: Rian
I always felt like I was being watched.
It started a week ago. Just a prickle on the back of my neck. A shadow in the corner of the cafeteria. Today, in the library, it was worse.
I was trying to finish my model for Structural Integrity, but my hands were shaking. I was tired. My scholarship didn't cover the materials fee, so I had skipped lunch to buy balsa wood.
I reached for my coffee. Empty.
I sighed, putting my head on the desk. "I would kill for an oat latte."
I closed my eyes for a second. Just a second.
When I opened them, there was a cup on my desk. A large, steaming takeaway cup.
I sat up, looking around. The library stacks were empty, save for him.
Leo Vane.
He was sitting three tables away, reading a book called Advanced Interrogation Techniques. He didn't look up. He sat like a statue—spine straight, shoulders broad.
He was... terrifyingly beautiful. Like someone had carved him out of cold marble and dressed him in money.
I pulled the cup closer. It had my name scrawled on it. Rian. Oat Latte. Extra shot.
"Who..." I whispered.
I looked at Leo again. He turned a page. His face was a mask of indifference.
I took a sip. Perfect. Exactly how I liked it.
I packed up my things, hugging my model box to my chest. As I passed Leo’s table, I hesitated.
"Um," I whispered. "Did you see who left this?"
Leo slowly turned a page. "No."
His voice was deep—a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in the floorboards.
"Oh. Okay. Thanks."
I fled.
Outside, the London weather was doing its usual impression of a wet sponge. I pulled my hood up and hurried toward the dorms.
"Hey! Ellis!"
My stomach dropped. Braden Thorne. A third-year bully whose father was a big-shot developer.
Braden and two cronies stepped out of the mist.
"We have a problem, Rian," Braden sneered. "My model had an accident. I need yours."
"No," I said, gripping the box. "If I don't turn this in, I fail."
"If you don't give it to me," Braden said, grabbing my arm, "I’ll make sure you fail anyway."
Click.
The sound of a switchblade opening echoed in the fog.
Leo Vane stepped out from the shadow of an oak tree. He wasn't wearing his coat. He stood in the rain in a black turtleneck, hands in his pockets.
"Let him go," Leo said. He didn't shout. But the temperature dropped ten degrees.
Braden released me. "Vane? This is none of your business."
"You're Braden Thorne," Leo noted coolly. "Son of Marcus Thorne. The fixer who disappeared six months ago."
Braden flinched. "He's on sabbatical."
"He's dead," Leo said simply. "My father killed him."
Silence. Absolute, suffocating silence.
"Touch him again," Leo whispered, nodding at me, "and you won't just fail. You’ll disappear."
Braden retreated, pale and shaking.
Leo turned to me. Up close, he smelled like ozone and expensive leather. He took off his black cashmere scarf and wound it around my neck.
"Go home, Rian," Leo ordered softly. "Lock your door."
"Why did you help me?" I whispered.
"I know you," Leo murmured, leaning in. "Better than you think."
He stepped back into the shadows. "Run along now. I'll watch the perimeter."
- Writer
