Page 12 of Crown of Thorns (The Initiation #3)

NOAH

I stare at the corridor that sits behind my office.

I swear it was made for a horror movie. During the day, everything works fine. But at night, the light flickers like some goddamn Freddy Krueger scene.

Maybe it’s fitting.

After what happened in this office—after him —the air still feels heavy. Like the walls haven’t forgotten.

Like I haven’t.

This time, I came prepared, gripping the light bulb like a talisman against fear.

I don’t want the castle to scare me, because that’s exactly what it has done over the past days.

Memories of masks, cloaks, and flickering lights have haunted my nights.

Which, in turn, has been screwing up my daytime, leaving me feeling grumpy and tired during times I need to be sharp.

Thankfully, the Christmas break is just around the corner, and I’ll get some time off.

And I’ll get to spend some time with Melody.

Being with her feels like reclaiming a lost piece of myself.

She’s still chaotic magic: wild, inventive, unapologetically her.

Ripped pants, paperclip stitches, curls tamed with the same clips.

Clay streaks her cheeks like war paint, and her green eyes—Dad’s eyes—light up when she sees me.

She’s messy and fearless, still the little girl who adored her big brother.

The one who never understood why I left.

We haven’t discussed that part yet. It’s too raw. Too fresh. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to open up. Perhaps that’s just not me . Letting people in emotionally, it’s a scary thought.

“Hello?” I ask the empty corridor, as if I really expect someone to jump out of the wall and salute me.

It’s time to kill my nightmare before it slithers away through my defences. Aside from the light bulb, I brought a flashlight and my usual pocket knife. If the streets have taught me anything, it’s to always stay safe. To always be prepared for trouble, whenever and wherever it shows up.

Always sharp. That’s what I used to be. This place is making me careless, and that is where true danger lies.

I glare at the crow in the painting. My skin prickles with awareness when the light dims. It’s a short flicker, bathing me mostly in darkness, and when it comes back on, I’m still staring right at the silver and black eyes of the bird.

It's glaring right at me, but it’s like it has moved. I blink in shock.

My fingertips skim the jagged paint, confirming my suspicions. This part of the wall isn’t solid. Pressing both hands on the painting, I push as hard as I can. There’s a soft click and then the painting slides aside, revealing a black hole and stairs that lead me straight into my nightmares.

I look down, my heart rate skyrocketing. Fear grips me like a tight glove, brain scrambling to catch up. After all, this doesn’t need to mean anything. Castles were made to hide secrets. Right?

My thoughts tumble back to Louis. Louis, who’s never been away from my mind, ever since he let me lose control so savagely in my office.

He hasn’t mentioned our deal again, nor has he respected my terms. And yet, I’m not sure if I want him to.

His defiance needles something buried inside me.

Something that feels like desire tangled with danger.

Instead, he’s been adding books to my collection, texts me every hour, and has been leaving me coffee and breakfast on my desk every morning.

He still attends my classes, despite my request for him to stay away. But when I checked my dorm, everything seemed to be in order. Aside from my cum-stained sheets.

His cum.

I turn my focus back on the black void that glares back at me. Is this what he meant when he spoke of dark secrets? Is it down under, in the basement, where those business deals are signed?

Perhaps I’m taking this way too seriously. He’s a kid, playing around. He even admitted it. And this…is just a way down to the basement.

Nothing more.

There never was a man with a mask; it was all in my head.

Nothing more.

When I don’t move for a few minutes, the door automatically slides closed again. I let out a sigh, relieved that I’m being dragged back to reality.

Switching off the light, I quickly replace the faltering lightbulb with the new one. There. Light. No more horror corridors. I glare at the crow. There. The light switches back on.

No more flickering.

But when I turn around and walk back to my office, I can’t help but feel someone’s staring at me, following my every movement. It makes me walk a little faster.

Just before I turn the corner, I think I hear something. A shuffle, a low hum, maybe Latin. But when I whirl around, no one’s there. Just the corridor, empty and too quiet.

I begin the holiday season with a short walk to the Christmas market.

Before, I used to love this time of year.

It meant Dad was home, and that we got to spend time together as a family.

After, I hated it, the festive glitters screaming at me, mocking me for all I’d lost. The volunteers working the shelters gave it their best to make the place look cosy, but it never lost this stench of desperation, of despair. That nobody could get rid of.

Saint-Laurent’s medieval heart pulses with festive life. Cobblestones slick with melted snow, the scent of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon thick in the air, laughter and brass bells mingling in a timeless echo.

Making my way through the main street and looking at the shop windows, my phone buzzes. Once, twice, ...

Little Devil: Tell me you haven’t left campus yet

Little Devil: I need to see you

Little Devil: Baby…

Little Devil: I’ve got you something

Little Devil: …

I neglect his messages, but my body can’t ignore the way sharp flutters burst beneath my ribs, hot and traitorous, like wings trying to break free. Damn him for not leaving me alone. For obsessing over him, though I fight it so hard.

I shake the thoughts off; instead, I try to let myself get swept up in the Christmas craze. It’s nice to go for walks. They bring peace. I used to walk for hours a day. Just walking . When you’re sixteen and homeless, there isn’t much else to do.

I buy Melo a woolen, knitted angel and a few shiny bracelets that match the colour of her paperclips.

Since she decided that we’ll spend Christmas in our pajamas, watching movies, I also got us a giant box of chocolates.

I’ve had a salary for years now, but this is the first time I’ve felt like I’m spending it on something that matters, on someone who feels like home.

People are dotted around, drinking mulled wine in large mugs. Songs play through the speakers. Children are sliding over an ice rink. When I was a kid, Saint-Laurent’s Christmas market didn’t have one.

I’m not surprised to see that a group of students from Monterrey Castle draws attention.

They were always a different breed, even back in the day.

Floundering about in their expensive school uniforms, they demand attention.

They’re everything the locals aren’t. Rich, privileged. Life comes easily to them.

Just as I’m about to leave, something catches my attention. Stars. Shiny, glass stars. They’re hanging by a silver thread, dancing in the air as if beckoning me to come closer.

“These are stunning,” I tell the lady who’s making them. I can’t take my eyes off them.

“Thank you.”

“Stars have always fascinated me. How much are they?”

“Two hundred euros each.”

“Oh.” That’s too expensive. Now I don’t know what to say.

“I’ll have all of them,” someone says next to me.

I turn in surprise, then stare right into Louis’ golden-black eyes.

He grins back at me. His hair is slicked back, except for a loose strand that waves over his forehead, making his perfectly arched eyebrows look even more striking.

His cheeks are flushed from the cold, and most of his chin and neck are covered in a woolen scarf that matches the colour of his coat.

Moss green and elegance. A dangerous contrast to the ink that whispers of the chaos beneath his polished surface, the duality that keeps me watching, wanting, wary.

Louis blinks his thick, dark lashes. “Hello, Professor. What a coincidence. Also shopping for Christmas?” He gazes at the bags I’m carrying, making them look small and insignificant as the lady rushes around to get everything wrapped up beautifully for him.

She has just sold out, wrapping the last one in crisp white paper and a satin bow.

I grind my teeth. “Finished. As a matter of fact, I was about to head home. Have a good Christmas break, Louis.”

“Wait.” I pause, hating myself for the way my body instantly reacts to his command. “Have a drink with me.”

Slowly, I turn around, flinching at his blinding smile. “Absolutely not.”

“I’ve got you something.”

I sigh, watching the lady tie careful loops of ribbon around each package, hands practiced and precise.

One of them could have been mine if I had the money, if I didn’t still carry the weight of every cent I’ve scraped together.

The ache of wanting something beautiful and knowing it’s just out of reach never really goes away. “What do you want, Louis?”

“Can’t give it to you in public. Drink?”

“I’ve got plans.”

His nostrils flare at my words, glare intensifying. “Meet me in the church.”

“The church?” Something pangs in my chest. The last time I was there was during the funeral. He doesn’t have to know that. I tip my chin up and walk toward the church, pretending I didn’t see the thick pack of bills he hands the lady.

I’m not even sure why I agree.

Inside, it’s cool and nearly empty. Someone plays the organ, the sound reverberating through the entire building. Louis walks in before I’ve had time to find a seat. I ignore the large paperback he’s carrying. Tension coils through my stomach.

“What is it you want?” I ask.