I walk into Business class and immediately spot Lilia at her desk, looking like the definition of done with life. Her pen’s tapping furiously, her jaw’s set tight, and she’s glaring at her notebook.
“Rough day already?” I ask, leaning against her desk. My attempt to hide a grin? Not going great.
“No. Mr. Anderson is a sad old man who likes to torture his students,” she announces. “I’ve been sentenced to sit next to Ava Grey. For therest of the term.”
I stifle a laugh. “How bad can it be?” I ask, earning an instant glare.
“Her voice actually makes me want to poke my ears out,” she groans. “It’s so bad, it’s practically a crime. If I survive this without losing my mind, I’ll deserve an award.”
This time I do actually laugh.
“She better keep her mouth shut,” she mutters darkly. Then she sighs, throwing a handout toward my desk. “You have it worse, Addie. All four of them? Who did you anger in your past life?”
“Everyone, apparently,” I reply. “Will is kind of terrifying.”
Lilia makes a face. “If Satan had an intern, it would be him.”
Just as I’m about to respond, the door swings open, and Berlin and Ava stride in. Berlin zeroes in on me instantly. “What are you staring at?” she sneers, her expression remarkably cold.
“Nothing important,” I mutter under my breath, and Lilia snorts a laugh.
Berlin’s gaze snaps to her. “And what are you snorting at, Harris? You sound like a pig.”
Ava laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. Lilia, to her credit, stays surprisingly calm.
“Take your bitchy attitude and slutty wardrobe elsewhere else, Berlin,” she says coolly, locking eyes with Berlin’s icy ones.
Berlin steps closer, her smile razor-sharp. “Watch it.”
“Or what?” Lilia fires back.
“You’re pushing your luck, Harris,” she hisses, and for a minute, Berlin’s eyes flash with anger, her lips tightening as though she’s on the verge of snapping. For a moment, it’s all there—the fury, the tension, the sharpness in her expression. But then, like a switch flipping, it’s gone. Her features smooth out, and she blinks once, slowly, as if resetting herself. Her face becomes calm, neutral. Uncaring. As if none of it ever happened.
She calmly leans in, face close to Lilia’s. “They really scrubbed the stink off you, huh?” she murmurs, voice silken. “Rehab must’ve worked. You don’t reek of alcohol anymore.”
Lilia doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. But her face drains of colour so fast it’s like the blood’s been vacuumed out. Her hands clench around the edge of the desk, white-knuckled.
Berlin smiles pleasantly. “Still,” she adds, stepping back, voice light as spun sugar, “once a mess, always a mess.”
And then she turns and walks away.
“Whatever,” Lilia says flatly, her voice devoid of the venom it held just seconds ago, but her eyes stay locked on the desk. Unblinking. And her jaw’s set too tight.
I lean in slightly. “Lilia?” I ask, careful not to speak too loudly. “Are you okay?”
I watch as her throat bobs with a swallow, then she blinks, forces her mouth into something resembling a smile. “I’m brilliant,” she says cheerfully. “Now, focus.” She gestures ahead with her chin. “Your hell spawn neighbours have arrived.”
But I can’t seem to glance away from Lilia. Her eyes are forward, her mouth set in a line that’s almost a smirk.
I want to say something. I want to comfort her. To tell her that she doesn’t need to feel ashamed of something she’s already survived. That the people who claw their way out of darkness are the strongest kind. The real kind.
But the look on her face—it tells me everything I need to know.
She wants to drop it.
So I do. For now.
Somehow, I manage to force my gaze away from her, glancing up, and sure enough, Kai Steele, Will Carson, Christian Ryder, and Liam Grey are making their way into the room. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, as if the air in the room changed. Like they had sucked it out. Conversations dim. Students straighten in their chairs. It’s ridiculous, really. It almost makes me laugh.
