The professor's secret

Chapter 5 — Victoria Lang

Victoria Lang didn't look dangerous.

That was the first thing I noticed.

She looked beautiful.

Perfectly beautiful.

She stood beneath the old oak tree in the center of campus wearing a tailored black blazer, a short charcoal skirt, and polished knee-high boots.

Her blonde hair fell in smooth waves over her shoulders.

She had pale blue eyes and the kind of confidence that came from knowing everyone around her wanted something.

Money.

Approval.

Protection.

She had all three.

I knew who she was before she introduced herself.

"Elara Hayes."

I stopped.

Victoria smiled.

"You know my name."

"I've heard it."

"Good."

Her smile widened.

"Then we can skip introductions."

Mira stepped beside me.

Victoria looked at her.

"Mira Patel."

Mira's expression hardened.

"Victoria."

"Still angry with me?"

"Still pretending I have a reason to like you?"

Victoria laughed softly.

"I admire consistency."

Her attention returned to me.

"I've heard you've been spending time in the archive."

My stomach tightened.

"I work in the library."

"I know."

"Then you know why I'm there."

"Of course."

She stepped closer.

Her perfume was expensive and subtle.

"I just wanted to give you some advice."

"What kind?"

"Blackthorn is a beautiful place."

She glanced around the courtyard.

"But beautiful things can be dangerous when you look too closely."

I said nothing.

Victoria smiled.

"Stay away from old stories, Elara."

My heart began beating faster.

"Some stories are better left unfinished."

She walked away.

Mira grabbed my arm.

"We're leaving."

I watched Victoria disappear into the crowd.

"What was that?"

"That was a warning."

"Why does everyone keep warning me?"

Mira looked at me.

"Because you're not listening."

That evening, I went to the library.

I told myself I was only working.

I told myself I wasn't thinking about Victoria.

I told myself I wasn't thinking about Adrian.

All three were lies.

Around ten, I heard footsteps.

I looked up.

Adrian stood at the end of the aisle.

His coat was gone.

He wore a fitted black shirt with the sleeves pushed to his forearms.

For some reason, that made him look even more dangerous.

His gray eyes found mine.

"You shouldn't be here."

"I work here."

"It's late."

"So?"

"So you should go home."

I smiled faintly.

"You always tell me what to do."

"Because you never listen."

He approached.

"You spoke to Victoria."

I froze.

"How do you know?"

"Because Victoria doesn't speak to people unless she wants something."

"What does she want from me?"

His expression darkened.

"Information."

"About Lydia?"

He didn't answer.

That was answer enough.

I stepped closer.

"What did you do ten years ago?"

His eyes met mine.

"I survived."

The words were quiet.

Painful.

Before I could respond, the library lights went out.

I gasped.

Darkness swallowed us.

Then something crashed behind me.

Adrian grabbed my wrist.

"Stay with me."

His body moved in front of mine.

I could feel the heat of him.

His hand tightened around my wrist.

Not hurting.

Protecting.

"Don't move."

Someone ran between the shelves.

Adrian released me.

"Stay here."

He disappeared into the darkness.

I heard a door slam.

Then silence.

The lights came back.

I was alone.

On the floor beside me was a black envelope.

A silver raven was stamped across it.

My hands shook as I opened it.

Inside was a single photograph.

Lydia.

But someone had scratched Adrian's face out of the picture.

And underneath it was written:

HE DIDN'T KILL HER.

I turned the photograph over.

Four words were written on the back.

ASK HIM WHO DID.