Rain beat steadily against the tall windows of the east wing, turning the stone paths outside into blurred streaks of silver. Most students had retreated indoors, buried under textbooks or gossip. But Lysa found herself drawn to the old music room—quiet, abandoned, a place that didn’t feel like Valemont.
She sat at the grand piano, fingers ghosting over ivory keys. She wasn’t here to play. She just wanted to think. To *breathe.*
The Polaroid.
The queen piece.
Samuel’s eyes.
Everything felt like a trap with velvet walls.
She pressed a single key. A soft, low note filled the silence.
“You look good with shadows on your face.”
Her head snapped up.
Samuel stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, blazer draped carelessly over one shoulder. He wasn’t smiling, but his voice carried that usual mix of mockery and hunger.
“You stalking me now?” she asked, voice steady.
“You left the door unlocked.”
“That doesn’t mean come in.”
He stepped inside anyway, letting the door click softly behind him. “You’re in my territory now.”
She arched an eyebrow. “The whole school is your territory, isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer. Just walked slowly, deliberately, until he stood beside the piano.
“You kept the queen,” he said.
“I don’t throw away threats,” she replied.
“Wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.”
She looked at him carefully. “Of what?”
Samuel rested his hand on the piano lid. “Of war, if someone tries to take what’s mine.”
Her heart stuttered.
“Aria’s not yours. Neither am I.”
His gaze darkened. “Not yet.”
Lysa stood, closing the space between them. “You talk like people are possessions.”
“No,” he said. “But I guard what I want.”
“And right now… you want me?”
He didn’t blink. “You already knew that.”
The rain outside grew louder, like the sky itself was eavesdropping.
“You don’t scare me,” she said, but it was a half-lie. He didn’t scare her in the way monsters did—but in the way fire did. Beautiful. Consuming. Wild.
He moved closer, slow and smooth, until they were only inches apart.
“You should be scared,” he murmured. “Not because I’ll hurt you. But because I won’t let you go.”
A pause. Then, with a faint smirk, he leaned down just slightly.
“But you already knew that too.”
Her breath caught.
Samuel reached past her, pressing a low chord on the piano. The sound vibrated between them—moody, rich, unresolved.
Just like them.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, the echo of his shoes fading into the hallway.
Lysa stared at the keys, fingers twitching.
What was she doing?
This wasn’t part of the plan.
He wasn’t part of the plan.
But her body betrayed her—burning where his words had brushed, her pulse humming like struck wire.
And for the first time in years, Lysa wasn’t sure if she wanted to run from the danger…
…or *fall into it*.
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