Page 22

BY THE TIME Y/N GOT INSIDE,

her heart was still thudding a little too loudly in her chest. She yanked her hoodie off and threw herself onto her bed, the dim dorm lights casting long shadows across the room.

Julia was already lying face-down on her mattress like a corpse. "I've decided," Julia said into her pillow. "I'm gonna be a good girl and stay in after curfew."

Y/N didn't respond. She was still thinking about everything—about the wolf, about Calixto, about the way he'd looked at her when he tied her hoodie strings.

She buried her face into her own pillow with a groan. "I hate him."

Julia didn't even look up. "Calix? He's kind of hot though."

"That's not the point."

"I didn't say it was. Just an observation."

★

The next morning, it rained. Not a gentle, aesthetic drizzle—the sky opened like it was mourning something, grey and relentless.

Classes passed in a haze. Y/N couldn't focus.

The steady patter of rain traced down the long panes of glass that framed the chemistry lab like watery veins. It had been falling since dawn, grey and relentless, casting a dull hush over the building.

The room was warm from the burners and crowded with the soft murmurs of reluctant students, most of whom were too groggy or disinterested to even pretend they cared about today's experiment.

Y/N sat at her usual bench, propping her cheek against her knuckles, eyes glazed over as she stared at the faint rippling inside the beaker in front of her.

She hadn't touched the worksheet, nor had she acknowledged the substitute's attempt to explain the concept of "covalent bonds". Her mind, like the rest of her body, felt disconnected—adrift somewhere between memory and exhaustion.

Last night had not been kind.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it—the twisted, hulking thing from the forest, its eyes glowing like two dying suns. Then she'd see the book again, its brittle parchment almost warm under her fingertips, its ink curling with secrets and symbols she still couldn't make sense of.

The others had done a fine job pretending it was nothing. Unexplainable, sure. Strange, maybe. But certainly not worth asking more questions about.

Until now, no one had actually told her not to ask.

And then the seat beside her slid back.

"Morning, lab partner."

Y/N blinked, startled out of her haze.

She turned, and there he was—Adrian—appearing as if nothing had happened, as if the world outside hadn't tilted just slightly on its axis.

His dark grey hoodie was a little damp at the shoulders, hair tousled like he'd walked through a storm and hadn't bothered to fix it. That familiar gold chain hung loose around the tan skin of his neck, catching the pale overhead light.

"You're late?" she said, folding her arms and raising a brow.

"I'm never late." he replied, voice laced with that usual lazy charm. "I just show up exactly when I mean to."

Y/N gave him a look. "You didn't mean to show up yesterday, then?"

Adrian stretched out his legs under the table with an unapologetic shrug. "Yesterday? The guys gave me a choice of a boring meeting and elsewhere. I chose elsewhere."

Her frown deepened. "That's not an answer."

"Sure it is" he said breezily. "It's just not a satisfying one."

The words left her lips before she could stop them: "You missed everything. The wolf. The screaming. The whole almost-being-ripped-to-shreds experience."

That earned a pause.

For a split second, something flickered in his face—tension, or perhaps a wince—so subtle it might've gone unnoticed if she hadn't been looking for it.

"I heard." he said after a beat. "Crazy night."

"Yeah, well, some of us were there."

He exhaled through his nose, a sound that was almost a laugh. "You say that like it was some exclusive party."

Y/N leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice. "Seriously, Adrian. Where were you?"

"I told you. I was... elsewhere. And since when were you so bothered about where I'm at? Don't fall for me human, we can't be." he snickered under his breath.

"That's not—I meant that you guys are always together!"

She narrowed her eyes, waiting. But he gave her nothing more than an indifferent shrug and turned his attention to the cluttered workstation, where a pair of mismatched test tubes sat in front of them.

Last resort. These guys know something and soon enough one of them is gonna yap.

★

She reached into her bag, her fingers brushing past textbooks and pens until they found the worn, leathery spine.

Slowly, she lifted it out and placed it on the desk between them. It landed with a muted thud, its aged cover bending slightly under its own weight, the faint creak of its spine sounding far louder in the quiet space between them.

Adrian stilled.

Not dramatically—but completely. As if some inner wire had been pulled taut.

He didn't look at her. Didn't even look at the book.

Just stared at the flame beneath the beaker with the kind of rigid silence that made Y/N wonder if he'd stopped breathing altogether. The tension radiated off him in waves, almost humming in the space between them.

"I found this in the library," she said, carefully watching the side of his face. "It was just...open?"

Only then did his eyes drop, just a quick glance before snapping back to the single flame.

He didn't flinch or curse or push it away. But his jaw tightened, and his shoulders curled slightly inward, like a reflex he was trying to suppress. The flicker of something—recognition, maybe—flashed across his features.

"Hm" was all he said at first.

"You've seen it before, haven't you?" she asked, her voice lower now.

Adrian didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he reached out—not to open the book, not even to touch it fully—but to slide it back from the burner with the side of his hand, as if it were something volatile.

Dangerous. Flammable in more ways than one.

"Did you read it?" he asked, the levity completely gone from his voice.

"A little," she admitted. "Not everything. But enough to know that whatever was in those woods last night wasn't some fox or bear or—whatever excuse people are whispering about today."

A muscle clenched in his jaw, and he exhaled slowly through his nose, gaze fixed on the book like it might speak first.

"Where exactly did you find it?"

"In the west wing" she said. "Behind a shelf. It looked like someone had left it there on purpose."

He gave the faintest nod, eyes distant. Then he leaned back in his chair, his fingers flexing against the table like he didn't know what to do with them.

"You need to get rid of it" he said, flat and low.

Y/N blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I'm serious," Adrian said, finally looking at her. There was nothing teasing in his face anymore—no trace of that usual lazy charm. "Burn it. Bury it. Toss it into the lake with a brick tied around it. Just—don't keep it."

Her brows furrowed. "Why? What's the big deal? Everyone else just brushed it off—Calixto, Silas, even—"

"They're not me."

The words slipped out faster than she expected, sharp and clipped.

She studied him. There was something dark in his expression—not fear, not exactly—but something that curled beneath the surface, quiet and unreadable.

"Because books like that don't just appear out of nowhere," Adrian said after a moment, tone grave. "They're like traps. Or...doors. You open them, and you're not just reading—you're being read."

"That's cryptic? You vampires and obscurity.." she muttered, unsettled despite herself.

"It's not meant to sound smart." he said, leaning forward, his voice like gravel. "It's meant to sound like a warning."

Y/N held her ground, trying to steady the unease rising in her chest. "You sound like you've dealt with this before."

"I've seen enough." he murmured, eyes flicking briefly to the window, then back to her. "More than I should have."

"And yet, no one tells me anything." Her voice rose, frustration seeping through. "Not you. Not the others. What exactly is going on at my—ourschool?"

Adrian didn't answer right away. He just stared at her, his gaze darkening, the edges of his mouth drawn into something that wasn't quite a frown.

Then, abruptly, he turned the conversation.

"Why are you so obsessed with it?" he asked, voice low but piercing. "The book. The creature. The questions."

Y/N blinked. "What? I never mentioned the—"

"You keep poking," he said. "Keep pushing, like you need to know. Like you think you're owed answers. Why?"

She opened her mouth. Closed it. The words were there but tangled.

"I just—"

"No one else is digging." Adrian continued, eyes on hers like he was seeing something he didn't trust. "And you shouldn't either."

She stared at him, stunned by the shift. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you should finally fucking sit down like a good little bitch and shut the fuck up Y/N." he said sternly.

Y/N looked down at the book, eyes wide at the sudden snap—fingers unconsciously curling around the edge of the desk with tight grip.

★

She didn't know what to say to that—because somewhere inside, she knew he wasn't wrong. "I'm not afraid of answers" she said, finally.

Adrian looked at her for a long moment. Then he exhaled through his nose, a dry, humourless scoff leaving his lips.

"You will be."

He reached across the table and flicked a pen toward the half-finished setup in front of them. The sharp clack broke the tension like a pebble dropped into deep water.

"Anyway" he said, voice light again, too quickly.

"You think we're supposed to be doing something productive with these acids, or are we just performing vaguely dangerous art?"

She blinked, caught off guard by the yet again, sudden shift. "I'm guessing.. dangerously wet art."

Vampires.. Anger issues? Bipolar much?

"Classic us" Adrian said, a grin finally tugging at his mouth again. "Two species and a Bunsen burner. What could go wrong?"

Y/N let out a shaky laugh despite herself.

The weight didn't fully lift, but for a moment, she let herself lean into the normalcy—into the banter, the warmth of his voice, the way he looked at her like he hadn't just tried to scare her off for her own protection.

The bell rang too soon.

She gathered her things slowly, the book slipping back into her bag like a secret that refused to be left behind. She didn't meet his eyes as she stood.

Didn't want to see that guarded look again, and hurried out with a mumble of 'goodbye'.

He didn't stop her.

Didn't say goodbye.

Just sat there, staring out at the endless drizzle streaking down the windows, his expression unreadable, his jaw clenched like he was holding in something that had been howling to get out.