The air in Ethan's dorm thickened the moment the door clicked shut. Clara stood in the center of the room, arms folded, scanning the space like a detective. Her gaze lingered on the open journal at Ethan's desk — a book of coded scratches that to her looked like meaningless doodles.
"Strange place," she said finally. "No posters, no clutter, no mess. Too clean for a student. Too… deliberate."
Ethan leaned against the wall, watching her the way a predator might observe another predator wandering too close to its den. His smile was faint but razor-sharp.
"You sound disappointed. Expecting skeletons in the closet?"
Clara turned, meeting his gaze. "I expect patterns. And yours don't match. You act invisible, but you're not. You're calculating. Careful. People like Ryan don't orbit someone without a reason."
Her words were calm, but Ethan noticed the faint tension in her stance — a readiness, as though she half-expected him to lunge.
He didn't. He let the silence do the work, stretching until Clara finally spoke again.
"You're planning something."
Ethan chuckled, low and humorless. "Everyone's planning something, Clara. Most just aren't very good at it."
Her lips tightened. "I don't like games."
Ethan stepped forward slowly, his presence deliberate, predatory. "Then why walk into one?"
For a split second, Clara faltered. Not much — just the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Ethan seized it.
"You came here because you think you've seen through me," he said, voice smooth as ice. "But you haven't. You've only caught a shadow. And shadows… mislead."
Clara's chin lifted defiantly. "Maybe. But shadows also prove there's something standing in the light."
Ethan tilted his head, amused despite himself. Clever. Not enough to threaten him, but clever.
He circled around her slowly, deliberately. "What is it you want, Clara? To expose me? To stop me? Or…" His voice lowered, edged with dangerous charm. "…to join me?"
That hit. She stiffened, jaw clenching. Ethan filed it away.
After a tense pause, Clara adjusted her glasses and sat in the chair by his desk, as if claiming a position of equal ground. "I don't know what you're doing, Ethan. But I know it's not ordinary. And I know you're using Ryan."
Ethan's expression didn't change, but internally he smirked. She was sharp — sharper than most, at least.
"Ryan's a pawn," he said coldly, finally dropping the pretense. "Expendable. Replaceable. That's his role. And he plays it well enough."
Clara's eyes narrowed, but she didn't flinch. "And what happens when pawns realize they're pawns?"
"Then," Ethan said, his voice flat as a blade, "they break. And I find new ones."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Clara studied him, searching for cracks in his mask. But Ethan didn't blink, didn't soften. He let her see the cruelty in his logic, the cold calculation.
Finally, Clara exhaled slowly. "You're dangerous."
Ethan's lips curved. "Now you're catching on."
The conversation ended with no alliance, no resolution — only tension. Clara left the room with a sharp, unreadable look, leaving Ethan to his thoughts.
He sat by the window, staring at the wet pavement outside. Clara was intelligent, observant, and persistent. Unlike Ryan, she wasn't a pawn. She was… a variable. A wildcard.
And variables could be dangerous. Or useful.
Either way, he'd keep her close enough to control — or to destroy.
The next day, Derek strutted through campus like a king, oblivious to the noose tightening around his neck. Ethan watched from the shadows, his mind already weaving. Wallace's ledger. Derek's involvement. The orb feeding secrets every hour.
The pieces were almost ready.
But first, he had to deal with Clara.
Because no matter how far ahead he played his game, one truth remained unshakable:
A predator doesn't share territory.