Laughter. Sharp, cutting, venomous.
I pressed my back against the door, my pulse hammering, jaw clenched as Victoria’s voice dripped through the wood like poison.
“Poor little Leftover,” she crooned, her tone sickeningly sweet. “I wonder how long you’ll last before you break.”
I gritted my teeth, my hands curling into fists, nails pressing against my palms hard enough to sting.
"You should have known your place from the start," she continued, her voice lowering, turning mockingly soft. "You should have bowed your head, accepted your position, learned how to behave. But no. You had to run that dirty filthy mouth of yours. You had even dared to wonder that you could walk among us, like you belonged."
A slow, deliberate pause.
"But don’t worry," she finished. "I’ll make sure you learn this lesson."
Laughter rose again, sharp-edged, vicious, until I heard the sound of their footsteps retreating down the hall.
And then—silence.
I exhaled sharply, pressing my back against the door, trying to force my racing heart into something steady.
Then I slammed my fist against the wood.
"Hey!" My voice echoed through the room, bouncing uselessly off the walls. "Open this damn door!"
Nothing. I grabbed the handle, yanking hard, shaking it with all the force I had, but the lock held firm.
“Let me out!”
My pulse pounded against my skull as I yanked my phone from my pocket, fingers shaking as I dialed Sophie’s number.
Straight to voicemail. Again. Again. Over and over again.
The battery flashed red, a single percentage left. One last call. The screen went dark. My stomach dropped.
I was alone.
My breath came fast and uneven as I scanned the dimly lit classroom, every inch of my body screaming that I needed to get out. It’s hard to tell how much time and options of escape actually passed until I came up with the final idea.
The windows.
I rushed over, yanking one open, sucking in a sharp breath as the cold air hit my face. But the moment I looked down, my stomach clenched.
Three stories up.
The ground stretched far below, dark and unwelcoming, the pavement sharp enough to shatter bones on impact. I gripped the windowsill tightly, forcing myself to think.
There had to be another way. And then—I remembered. The library.
It was next door, sharing a wall with this classroom. If I remembered correctly, the entrance wouldn’t be locked for a few more hours. It was a risk, but it was my only shot.
Climbing onto the windowsill, I braced my hands against the cold frame, my fingers digging into the stone as I edged sideways, my body pressing flat against the wall.
The wind was sharp, relentless, howling past my ears, making my balance feel even more unstable. One wrong step, one slip, and I was done for.
My legs shook as I forced myself forward, each movement careful, deliberate, my breath coming short and sharp. The library window was just ahead, so damn close, and I stretched my arm forward, reaching—
It wouldn’t budge.
I slammed my fist against the window, once, twice, the impact sending dull shocks of pain through her knuckles.
Still nothing.
"Please," I choked out, though there was no one to hear it.
With a final burst of desperation, I shoved against the glass with all the strength that had left—but the window stayed closed.
I squeezed my eyes shut, a shuddering breath escaping my lips.
This was it. I am going to fall.
Mind raced through options I didn’t have. The bushes below—maybe they’d soften the landing. Maybe I’d just break a few bones instead of the skull.
I sucked in a breath, readying myself to jump—
Then came a hand.
Before I could react, I was yanked forward, dragged through the now-open window with a force that sent me tumbling inside.
My breath slammed out of my lungs, my body colliding against someone else’s.
Warmth. Steady. Solid.
My fingers had latched onto fabric, fisting into it without thinking, my face pressed against something firm, unmoving, safe. A breath shuddered out of me. My heart was still racing, but I wasn’t falling anymore.
I wasn’t falling. I clutched tighter, the words spilling out before I could stop them.
“Thank you— thank you—” My voice was rushed, breathless, shaking too hard to even think.
There was no response at first, just the slow, steady rise and fall of someone else’s breathing.Then, hesitantly—almost reluctantly—a hand patted my back.
Once. Then again.
It was awkward. Stiff. Like they had no idea what to do with me.
That was when I realized. I was sitting between someone’s legs. Pressed against their chest. Still clinging to them like they were my only lifeline.
Slowly, I pulled back, my hands loosening as my gaze traveled upward and locked onto cool, unreadable gray eyes.
Damien Sinclair.
Of course. Another God damn one of the Sinclair. Am I cursed somehow?
Heat flooded my face as I practically launched myself away from him, scrambling to put space between us. "I— I’m sorry!"
Damien just stared at me, his face a picture of bored disinterest, like I hadn’t just nearly fallen to my death before landing in his lap.
Then, in the flattest voice I’d ever heard, he said, "That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen."
I gawked at him. "Excuse me?"
He leaned back, adjusting his uniform like nothing had happened. "Did you seriously think climbing the Academy like some deranged raccoon was a good idea?"
"I was locked in a classroom, Sinclair,” I scowled, still catching my breath. “I didn’t have a choice."
He exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "You’re lucky I saw you. Otherwise, you'd be decorating the bushes with your brain instead of just missing a damn playing card."
"Wow," I snapped. "You really suck at comforting people."
A hint of amusement flickered in his gaze, but he said nothing. Then I saw it—the library’s wall clock. My stomach dropped.
Less than an hour left. Shit.
I bolted for the shelves, my hands tearing through books, searching frantically. Behind me, Damien didn’t move. He just… watched. Not helping. Just studying me.
Frustration crawled under my skin. "Shouldn’t you be looking for a card too?"
Damien tilted his head slightly, like he was bored out of his mind.
"I already have mine, I came here to wait out the chaos," he said. "You know, people actually rarely search in the library—it’s too big, and the odds of finding something here are critically low."
I froze. He was right.
The shelves stretched endlessly, the dim lighting making shadows curl at the edges. I had no time for this.
A lump formed in my throat. "So, what? This was a waste of time?"
Damien hesitated, as if considering something. Then, a slow smirk. "Not necessarily."
"Not necessarily," he murmured.
I frowned. "What?"
His eyes flicked to me, studying, assessing, as if he was deciding whether I was worth the answer. Then, finally, he said, "You should look where hearts bloom."
I blinked. "And what the hell does that supposed to mean?"
Before I could even start to process it, he rolled his eyes, exhaling like I had personally disappointed him.
“Seriously?” He shook his head, then—without another word—turned and walked away.
I stood there, frustration curling in my gut, his words repeating over and over in my head.
"Where hearts bloom."
And then—it hit me. The Heartfilia Conservatory.