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Violet did not not waste even a second more as she headed to the administrative floor. She had ignored Lila who questioned her where she was going. But the girl didn’t need to know, not when she might try to stop her.

The receptionist looked up briefly, then barely acknowledged Violet’s presence, her eyes shifting back to the phone screen in front of her.

Violet could hear gunfire blaring from the movie she was engrossed in, the volume turned high enough that it drowned out the faint sounds of the office.

Voliet couldn’t tell whether her lack of response was a cue for her to go in or fuck off. Violet chose the former.

She approached the office door, lifting her hand, and knocked firmly. There was no response.

Violet knocked for a second time, wondering if Principal Jameson was even in the office. It wasn’t yet eight o’clock, after all.

She had left the dining hall intending to get her issues sorted before the first lesson and hopefully leave the academy once her dismissal had been processed. Everything was planned perfectly.

When there was no response again, Violet frowned. Maybe that was why the receptionist had barely acknowledged her. A heads up would have been nice. What a bitch!

Frustrated, Violet turned to leave when she unmistakably heard the words, "Come in."

Her heart began to race. This was it. The moment she had been waiting for. She would walk into that office, demand her scholarship be revoked, and Principal Jameson would do just that. Violet had made up her mind.

Violet pushed the door open and walked in, her heart pounding with every step. Her eyes fell on Principal Jameson, who was seated in her executive chair with her back turned to her.

For a moment, Violet thought there was something different about the way she looked, like her form was broader or something. But she shook it off, deciding that it was just a trick of the eye. After all, who would be in the principal’s seat, if not Mrs. Jameson herself.

Ignoring the strange feeling, Violet straightened up, steeling herself. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to gather the courage. "Mrs. Jameson, I have something to discuss with you."

There was no response from Mrs. Jameson for over a minute, an awkward silence falling between them. Deciding there was no need to beat around the bush anymore if the woman wouldn’t even acknowledge her, Violet decided to let the cat out of the bag.

"I don’t want to study here anymore, Mrs. Jameson. Please revoke my scholarship and have it handed to someone else."

There it was. Violet felt lighter as soon as she let out the issues that had been eating her up. Now, there was no way the principal could ignore such a direct and sensitive demand anymore.

She noticed the slight movement as the principal’s chair swiveled, signaling a turn, and she held her breath in anticipation. But when the chair finally completed its rotation, the face that came into view made the blood drain from her face.

You have got to be kidding me.

There was no Principal Jameson sitting there from the start. It was Asher fucking Nightshade, posing in her place.

Violet didn’t know how to process the whirlwind of emotions that hit her. Shock gave way to disbelief, then anger, then dread, and then even more dread as her survival instincts kicked in. This was Asher she was dealing with, and he wasn’t even wearing his shades.

Her striking amber eyes locked onto his magnetic, slitted gray gaze—haunting and reptilian, and entirely too focused on her.

Violet swallowed.

"Do tell me, Violet," Asher Nightshade finally spoke, his voice disturbingly calm, a mask over the storm that was clearly building beneath. "What is this I hear about you wanting to reject the scholarship?"

The question echoed across the room, heavy as a judge’s gavel, and Violet swallowed hard. This was the first time Asher had addressed her without a nickname. Yep. She’d just royally screwed up.

Before Asher could even blink, Violet had already made up her mind to run, adrenaline kicking in. She had to get out of there.

But before she could take a single step, his voice cut through her thoughts like a blade, commanding, "Don’t move."

Violet froze on the spot.

"Relax."

Just one word, and every ounce of tension drained from her body. Violet found herself standing there comfortably, as if she were in the company of an old friend, even though moments ago all she wanted was to flee from this devil.

Asher stood up from the chair, and despite his command to relax, her heart began to pound faster. Violet knew this psychopath was the reason she was in this school, and trying to leave was like spitting in his face. How had he even known she would come here? Could he have predicted this?

A chill washed over her at the thought. If that was the case, then this guy was far more dangerous than she had imagined. Someone who could read her better than she knew herself? That was not someone she wanted to mess with.

But the next moment, anger surged through Violet. Who was he to tell her what to do? She was her own person, and if she wanted to leave this damn academy, it was her decision to make, not his. He had no claim over her.

So when Asher stepped closer until they were face-to-face, his frame towering over her, she spat, "It’s none of your business whether I leave or stay, you mindfucker!"

She knew she shouldn’t have insulted him; it was like throwing gasoline on a fire. But, oddly enough, Asher didn’t seem to mind at all. Instead, he burst into laughter, a sound that should’ve been chilling, but came out rich and smooth, sending shivers down her spine.

"Oh, my little purple," Asher cooed, cupping her face with his hands. His touch was surprisingly warm, cradling her cheeks with a gentleness that seemed entirely at odds with the monster she knew him to be.

"You are so predictable," he whispered, and that alone made her blood run cold. What did he mean by that? Was he saying there was no escape, that he already knew her every move? Wait—was he in her head all this time? Violet had no clue how his powers actually worked anymore.

"Can you read my mind? No..." she swallowed nervously. "Are you reading my mind right now?"

Asher chuckled. "How silly of you to think that just because I control minds means I can read them too."

She narrowed her eyes. "You said I’m predictable."

"I am skilled at mind control, which means I can infer a lot about someone’s state of mind through careful observation. It’s more about perception and guesswork rather than direct thought-reading," he said, running his hand through her hair.

Violet flinched, recalling how he had cut her hair before. She could only hope he didn’t have a hair fetish, if he did, she’d probably end up bald, thanks to him.

"It’s kind of offensive though," Asher said, with mock disappointment. "Assuming that just because I have mind control, I also read minds? Tsk, that’s so bad of you, my little purple flower." He reprimanded her as if she were a child.

"But don’t worry," he continued, his tone shifting, "you’ll have plenty of chances to learn more about me... in the next..." he glanced at his luxurious watch, "twenty minutes of our first date. At least, in reality."

"What?"