The school knows.
The bones of this gothic monster hum with whispers we haven’t heard yet.
The car door slams behind, echoing louder than it should. Aoife’s standing just ahead, head low beneath her hoodie, hood pulled up like it can protect her from the storm that’s about to break.
There is no hiding now.
I walk up beside her, and I’m about to show the world she’s mine. I take her hand in mine, and it’s so tense, she’s scared and I don’t blame her, but I’m here, and there is nothing I won't do to protect her.
Marco pulls his collar higher. “We’re being watched.”
“No shit,” I mutter, already feeling the heat of a dozen eyes drilling into the side of my skull.
Students linger under the arches. Phones are out already taking their pictures. Some whisper, some stare too long before pretending they weren’t. I see the Irish girls grouped by the wall, some laughing with a sharpness that means nothing good.
Rosa slides between us, holding her phone out. No words. Just the screen.
GOSSIP | NEW DROP
??"Power shift? The Italian prince and the Irish pawn were spotted coming back together from the weekend. The car didn’t lie. The storm’s not coming, it’s here."
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“The girl’s a dead lamb walking. Someone tell her not all wolves wear leather.”
A vein in my jaw twitches. “How long has that been up?”
“Two minutes.” Rosa’s voice is cool, but her eyes aren’t. She’s scanning the grounds like she’s already making a hit list. “It’s spreading.”
Next to me, Aoife stiffens, her knuckles are white where they’re clutching her bag strap.
“They’re coming for her already,” Milo mutters beside me, arms crossed tight.
Marco exhales slowly, then grits out, “You sure she’s safe in the dorms?”
“No,” I answer. “If we're not with her she’s going to be in danger.” Even when we win this war, she’ll always be in danger at this school, and even out there in the world. She’s betrayed her family, things like that don’t just settle overnight. Fuck, not even after centuries. Families remember, they always do.
“Then she stays with us.” Marco doesn’t even look at her as he says it, like it’s not even a debate.
Rosa taps her nail against her screen. “And the Irish?”
“They’re stirring,” I say low. “I can feel it in my fucking teeth.”
Aoife shifts beside me, I glance down. Her eyes are locked on the screen.
I lean closer. “You stay close. Don’t leave a room without one of us. Got it?”
She nods once, tight. “They’re going to make this hell for me.”
“They already tried,” I murmur back. “And you’re still breathing.”
She flinches at that and I hate that I said it, but it’s true.
The momentI stepped foot in the gravel of the training ground, I knew something was off.
It’s not just the whispers anymore. It’s the way the space parts when I walk into it.
