Liach's pov
I sit by the low fire in my room. The silence here is intentional.
Dave sent me an envelope. No electronics, no traceable formats. Just ink. He's the only one I trust enough to gather this kind of real-time information, the only one I trust to tell me the things I need to hear—no embellishments.
I open the pages, flipping through as the fire crackles.
*He later ordered three executions. One was a staff cleaner who'd been seen near the cloakroom during the party. No evidence, just proximity. He's shaken.
*Don De Luna has left Italy for the past 4 days. My Intel says before he left he was gathering information. And his staff say his eyes were filled with death in them.
*He personally questioned six females who had a similar build, working in the black market or underworld.
*We believe he suspects the assassin is still alive."
I see his still hunting.
I fold the pages. A mix of triumph and dread settles in my gut.
He didn't see through me—but he's not fooled either. The bastard is alert. And angry.
And yet… not unhinged. That's what's worse. He's methodical.
I slip the report into the fire, as I watch it burn.
I walk to Elias's room as I watch him sleep, breathing softly. I wonder if he'll ever know the blood that's been spilled to keep him sleeping this peacefully. I'd kill again for him. I already have. I'll kill Sinveer for him too, when the time is right.
I change into a soft cotton nightgown, then pause at the mirror. Tracing my fingers around the spot he stab me, as my mind flashes back to Sinveer, remembering the look he gave me… that brief second before the music rose again… he knew. He sensed it.
He felt me watching him. Felt me there.
***
"Ahh… school has finally resumed."
Geneva is tedious—settling in wasn't as easy as it plays in my head.
I drop Elias off at his school, and now I'm here, standing in my school courtyard, breathing in the familiar scent of brewed espresso, and the laughter of students. Envelope by the familiar extravagant, sharp, and refined walls of the school.
Arcanum Institution, ancient in all its ways: regal buildings, rolling lawns, ancient libraries.
But this school is no ordinary campus.
Here, future kings and killers share classrooms. Arcanum is a school of masks. A place where bloodlines matter, as do grades, and your last name can be either a shield or a curse.
By day you can walk the sunlit halls as a student of any faculty, nodding at professors with degrees from Harvard and secrets from MI6. By night, you slip underground—into simulation domes and mirrored corridors that train you to break a man's mind, to steal an empire without ever being seen.
As a second-year student now, I've learned to balance the two faces of Arcanum. On paper, I'm a genius with a full scholarship.
"Liach!"
When suddenly I hear a familiar voice behind me.
"Liach! You are bad!" Maya says, walking up to me. "How could you… do this to me? Or… don't you love me anymore?" Maya asked, crossing her arms over mine, resting her head on my shoulders. "You didn't call, you didn't pick up my calls throughout the holiday, were you that busy?"
Yeah, I was actually busy—killing my father's targets.
"I'm sorry, Maya." I reply pleadily.
"LIACH!"
My name cut through the courtyard from the lips of its culprit—Hilda.
"AHHHHHH! She screams, throwing her arms in to the air, waving while running towards me. "I've missed you so much," hugging me "where were you? Were you fucking or got kidnapped by a mafia boss, hmm?" She asks, wiggling her brows, smiling devilishly.
"What stupid Mafia? And how will I even attract someone like that? Look at me," I say, adjusting my glasses.
Both Maya and Hilda exchange glances, bursting out laughing.
"Liach, please! What do you mean by 'look at you?'" Hilda grins. "With your red hair flowing like flames, your eyes an ocean and the sky, your body," she pauses, chuckling like a madwoman,"that every guy wants to bang on this campus. If not that you are a nerd all through, you'd have been the face of our school, the most popular girl in fact." she continues.
"Liach, even with your glasses and you always dressing modestly, you are very beautiful." Maya adds.
"Leave her, let her keep spouting nonsense. If I'm a guy I'll hide you from the world keeping you for my eyes alone, or maybe I should go into this lesbian thing, but I will miss good dicks and strong arms." Hilda says, furrowing her brow.
Ah…this girl will she ever change?
Ugh! Hilda please stop talking like that, it's disgusting," Maya rolls her eyes, walks past Hilda. "Liach, don't listen to that incubus, she's going to corrupt your soul."
"But I'm not lying!" Hilda says, stressing the word 'lying'. "And besides, have you seen how cute and handsome some of the first years are, God, I want to fuck them already. I'm dripping," she says, catching up to her.
"Hilda, please stop talking. Please." Maya begs.
I chuckle, laughing inwardly.
I actually do miss you guys a lot.
Hilda and Maya have been my friends since our first year, right after the orientation.
Hilda might be dick-prioritizing, but she's deadly smart, and so beautiful, she could rival a goddess. And jovial too.
Even though she's the daughter of billionaire James Carter and heiress to Luminer Solutions—a world-class tech company dealing with phones, cars, hacking, androids, and coding—her personality is nice.
Maya, on the other hand, is conservative, smart, and a fashionista. The daughter of Julian Bates, owner of a world class law firm—Bates Law Firm.
"Liach, what are you doing? Are you not coming?" Maya calls out.
"Coming."
As we walk into the throng of students, a genuine warmth spreads through me. Maya, the quiet strategist, and Hilda, the chaotic socialite. They are my anchors in the light, the parts of this elaborate cover that feel truly real.
And they are, perhaps, the most dangerous distraction I could afford.
Because in a place like Arcanum, where even friendship can be a carefully engineered manipulation. Finding a genuine connection is a luxury.
Two Days Later at my apartment, Maya sits on the fluffy single sofa by the window side with a pillow in are hand. She came to spend some time with me because she was bored staying at home alone since Hilda had been busy with her concecutive classes.
"You've been brooding for two hours. If you keep staring at the wall like that, you're going to see Jesus." Maya, tosses a pillow at me from the other end of the room.
I laugh—soft, genuinely. "I was just… thinking."
"You're always thinking. Take a break, babe."
I nod. I need to keep the mask on. To take the face of my worries off, because Maya's good at reading silences, and Hilda's better at digging.
My eyes drifts back to the envelope in my hands resting on my laps.
Dave's latest message was shorter this time:
*He hasn't eaten in 48 hours. Tortured three suspects. No survivors. Intel says he's searching aggressively but narrowing targets. Your description match one of the suspects that escaped questioning. But he doesn't have your real name. Yet.
I burn the note in the room's mini sink.
He's close. Too close.
But still blind.
I touch the pendant around my neck—just a trinket. But it grounds me. Reminds me.
That I have a man to kill. And I have to stay two steps ahead of him.
I'm not doing this for Papa, alone.
I'm doing this for, Elias.
And no matter how loud Sinveer's rage gets, no matter how sharp his instincts are, I will not let him find me.