New York City smelled like rain and secrets.
When Anya Sharma stepped onto the Westbridge University campus for the first time, she didn't look like a nervous transfer student—she looked like a dream carved into reality.
Long dark hair, deep eyes, sharp jawline, soft mouth—she stood out instantly.
People stared.
But one pair of eyes watched her differently.
From the top floor of the library, Liam Carter leaned against the glass, arms crossed, gaze cold but burning.
Captain of the basketball team.
Top of his class.
Campus golden boy.
But no one knew the truth.
Liam didn't "meet" new people—he studied them.
He didn't "like" beautiful things—he collected them.
And Anya…
He wanted her the moment he saw her struggling with her suitcase near the campus gates.
She had no idea he was watching.
She bent to fix the stuck wheel, frustrated, unaware of the shadow descending the stairs behind her.
A voice spoke from above her shoulder—smooth, deep, dangerous.
"Need help?"
She jumped, startled. "Oh—um—no, I'm fine."
He crouched down anyway, freeing the wheel with one strong pull.
She looked up into his eyes. They were warm hazel but with something darker underneath—something she couldn't name but felt instantly.
"Welcome to Westbridge," he said, rising to his full height.
She had to tilt her head to look at him.
Tall. Beautiful. Sharp jaw and sharper stare.
He wasn't smiling—just looking at her like he was memorizing every line of her face.
"I'm… Anya," she whispered.
"I know."
Her heart skipped. "You know?"
He shrugged casually, but his eyes never left her.
"New transfer. From India. Psychology major," he said, like he'd read her file.
Not possible.
But he had.
"Don't worry," he continued, lifting her suitcase handle. "I make it a point to know everyone worth knowing."
Anya felt a strange chill run up her spine.
Worth knowing.
Liam walked beside her, slow steps, watching her reactions, her discomfort, her tiny nervous habits.
He noticed everything.
"So, Anya…" he said, voice lowering.
"Do you always travel alone?"
She frowned. "What kind of question is that?"
"The kind where the answer tells me how careful you are."
"I'm… careful," she defended, though she wasn't sure why she had to explain herself.
"Good," he murmured. "This city eats innocent people alive."
Then his gaze flicked to her lips.
"And you look very… unprepared."
She stopped walking.
"What do you want from me?" she asked.
Liam smirked, leaning slightly closer—not touching her, but close enough to feel the heat of his breath.
"Nothing."
A beat.
"Yet."
He led her toward the dorm building without asking permission.
People stared as they passed—not at her beauty, but at the two of them together.
Everyone knew Liam Carter didn't talk to new students.
He didn't help anyone.
He didn't escort girls to their dorms.
He chose them.
And Anya had just been chosen.
At her dorm door, she reached for the suitcase handle, but he didn't let go.
He leaned in, voice barely above a whisper.
"If you ever feel lost here… don't ask just anyone for help."
His eyes sharpened.
"Ask me."
"Why you?" she dared to ask.
Liam's smile was slow and unsettling.
"Because I'm the only one who already knows you're in danger."
Her breath caught.
"In danger from what?"
He turned away, hands in his pockets.
From behind him, his voice came low, dark, final:
"From everyone."
A pause.
"And maybe… from me."
The door closed between them.
And Anya's new life in America began—with a stranger who wasn't a stranger at all…
and a darkness that had already decided she belonged to it.