My jaw clenched every time I replayed his arrogant look in my head.
Everyone, including the professor, had witnessed what he did, but no one defended me. Instead, they’d cowered, as if he were an untouchable god they feared and worshipped.
But didn’t they know that all gods eventually fell?
Prometheus had been chained. Atlas condemned to carry the heavens on his back. Ares shamed.
Even the divine eventually answered for their sins.
What was worse, was that the asshole who’d cut my hair looked like a Greek god. One who belonged in a painting that’d sell at auction for millions.
I hated how symmetrical his face was. It was almost unnatural, too perfect for a living, breathing person. Frowning, I resented how I found such a horrid man attractive. But beauty wasn’t the only thing I saw when looking at him.
Something dark and predatory lurked behind his brown eyes.
He was a devil dressed up as the man of your dreams.
During my next lecture, while the professor rambled, I pulled my phone out and searched what he’d said to me before leaving the lecture hall.
“Alla prossima, ratta.”
Until next time, rat.
A chill crawled down my spine.
The way he’d said those words to me wasn’t friendly.
They’d left his lips like a threat. A promise.
I debated closing out of the search results and booking an Uber to get the hell out of here.
For the rest of the day, people avoided me, and I knew it was because of the gossip around my new haircut.
Classmates looked away from me or turned in the opposite direction. No one sat beside me in class. I heard whispers behind my back.
I tried asking a few classmates his name, but no one answered.
One girl pretended she hadn’t heard me and scurried away. Another guy literally trembled, as if saying his name would summon a demon.
When lunch finally came, I brought my food to the library to avoid another run-in with him.
And by food, I meant a stale, half-crushed granola bar.
A gold plate labeledSomnus Librarywas on the wall before I walked in. As I moved deeper into the library, I looked around in awe. Sunlight streamed through the arched windows. The space was breathtaking with two stories of carved wooden bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling. There were hundreds of books—newer titles, along with some with spines so worn that you couldn’t make out their titles.
It felt more like a fairy-tale castle than a library in a weird-ass university.
I climbed the staircase to the second floor and found a small study table tucked in a corner. The farthest away from anyone.
After setting down my bag, I pulled out my notebook and unwrapped my granola bar. The bar instantly crumbled in my fingers, making a mess.
I’d just taken a bite when a voice spoke from across the table.
“They call them the Night Sons.”
My hand flew to my throat as I coughed, choking on my bite, and crumbs scratched my throat.
A short guy, wearing the same crisp Saint Vale uniform, sat across from me.
