He still follows me everywhere, close that I feel him without needing to look.
Day by day, the tension in him builds, and I know it’s only a matter of time before his restraint snaps.
He’s certified.
That means I can expect anything.
The nights were the hardest when we came back. After sharing a bed with Markev, my dorm felt cavernous… wrong. The nightmares had free rein again, hunting me the moment I closed my eyes.
The guilt came too.
I worked hard to dull it, to keep it manageable. I made a decision, to live in the moment while it exists. To let myself feel without dissecting it, because the second I do, everything will collapse.
And I’m not ready for that.
What I wasn’t prepared for—what shocked me most—was seeing Eleanor step out of the dorm building as we unloaded our bags.
Eleanor.
She was walking perfectly fine, as if she hadn’t disappeared for months.
But it wasn’t her.
Not really.
She looked… fine, on the surface. Her hair freshly trimmed, bangs neat, her clothes clean. No visible bruises, no signs of neglect.
If you didn’t know her, you’d think she’d simply gone on an extended holiday.
But her eyes were wrong.
Empty… haunted.
She was standing in front of us, physically there, but some part of her never made it back.
Her very soul.
Then I noticed who else stepped out of the dorm the men occupied.
Ido Renford.
The fifth man of the Ferrum Syndicate. Gone for months. Back at the exact same time as Eleanor.
That alone was suspicious. The way he watched her made it worse. His eyes never left her, and the expression on his face was… disturbing.
I’d done my research on Ido Renford. Officially, he’d been adopted into an American elite family, born in Japan before hisrecords went missing. Unofficially, there were whispers that he is an assassin tied to the Bratva.
One of the best.
It tracked.
His family legacy is rooted in tech, private security, discreet operations. It also explained how easily he moved among the Markev cousins.
After today’s classes, I returned to my dorm and tried to work on my projects. I started painting, but the noise in my head kept building until I couldn’t take it anymore.
So I left.
Now, after three straight hours of running, I climb the stairs to my dorm. I unlock the door, kick off my shoes, and go straight into the bathroom.
