Campus felt different that morning.
Anabeth walked across the lawn with her backpack slung over one shoulder, but the air felt heavier… as if someone had draped a shadow over the familiar paths. Conversations buzzed around her, but her mind couldn't settle. She kept glancing over her shoulder without understanding why.
Rafael's warning the previous night still echoed in her ears:
"If anything feels wrong, call me."
She tried to shake it off — this was campus, not a dark alley. What could really happen here?
But then she saw him.
A stranger leaning casually against a lamppost, pretending to scroll through his phone. He wasn't dressed like a student — his dark button-down, silver chain, and tailored trousers made him stand out. His presence was too intentional. Too controlled.
And his eyes…
Cold, silver-grey, locked on her the moment he realized she noticed him.
Anabeth's breath caught.
He didn't look away.
He didn't look embarrassed.
He looked… amused.
Almost like he knew a secret she didn't.
She quickly broke eye contact and walked faster toward her lecture hall. But she felt it — his gaze trailing her like fingertips on her spine.
Don't panic, she told herself.
You're imagining things.
But her heart wouldn't slow down.
When she reached the lecture building, the hallway was bustling. Students squeezed past her, laughter echoing, doors slamming. Normal campus chaos. Yet she felt even more exposed.
She reached for her locker, but when she opened it—
A small white card dropped to the floor.
Her stomach tightened.
She bent down and picked it up.
No words.
Just a symbol.
An ink-black raven with one wing dipped in red.
She didn't know what it meant — but someone did.
Her fingers shook as she pulled out her phone and texted the only person who could possibly understand.
Anabeth:
Someone… left something in my locker.
It took only three seconds for Rafael to reply.
Rafael:
What happened? Send me a picture.
She did.
And within a moment, three dots appeared.
Then his next message came:
Rafael:
Leave the building. I'm coming.
Her pulse spiked.
Coming?
Here?
He never came onto campus in daylight. It was dangerous for him and dangerous for her.
But before she could respond, someone spoke behind her.
A smooth, low voice.
A voice with a confidence that felt rehearsed.
"Rafael sent you running already?"
Anabeth froze.
Her body stiffened before she even turned around.
And when she finally did —
the man with the silver eyes stood inches away.
Up close, he was more striking. Dark hair, sharp jaw, a faint scar slicing across his eyebrow. Someone who looked like trouble carved into human form.
He smiled — soft, polite, and entirely fake.
"You dropped this earlier," he said, holding up… nothing. His hands were empty. He was mocking her. Testing her.
Her throat tightened.
"I don't know who you are."
"No," he agreed. "You don't. Not yet."
Students brushed past them, unaware of the tension snapping like invisible wires.
She stepped back. "You're watching me."
"I'm observing," he corrected calmly. "There's a difference."
Her heartbeat thudded painfully.
"What do you want?"
His eyes flickered with amusement again.
"I want to know," he said, leaning just slightly closer, "what makes you so special that Rafael Torren breaks his own rules."
Anabeth's stomach dropped.
He knew Rafael.
He knew everything.
Before she could answer—
A hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.
Rafael.
His body came between them instantly, all tension and fury contained inside tight control.
"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Rafael growled.
The silver-eyed man raised his hands in a mock surrender.
"Relax. I was only introducing myself."
Rafael's jaw clenched. "You don't come near her. Not on campus. Not anywhere."
A slow, infuriating smile formed on the man's lips.
"It's a free campus. I'm simply… making observations."
"Leon." Rafael's voice dropped, dangerous and icy. "I swear to God—"
Leon tilted his head, eyes sliding back to Anabeth.
"She's even prettier up close," he murmured. "I understand the temptation."
Before Rafael could lunge, Leon stepped backward into the crowd, blending in effortlessly — gone as if he had never been there at all.
Rafael stood rigid, fists shaking, breath harsh.
Anabeth stared up at him.
"Rafael… who is he?"
Rafael didn't answer immediately. Instead, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into an empty hallway, away from wandering eyes.
His voice was tight, deeper than usual.
"He's trouble you shouldn't have to know about."
"But he knows me," she whispered. "He was watching me."
"And he won't touch you," Rafael growled. "Not while I'm breathing."
She felt his protectiveness wrapping around her like armor.
But also… fear.
She had seen it. In his eyes.
Rafael — the untouchable, fearless mafia heir — was afraid for her.
"What does he want?" she asked softly.
Rafael finally met her eyes.
"To hurt me," he said. "Which means hurting you."
Her breath trembled.
He moved closer, lowering his forehead to hers, voice rough with emotion he rarely showed.
"I'm not letting that happen, Anabeth. I'd burn the whole damn city down before I let anyone touch you."
Her fingers tightened around his.
And for the first time… she truly understood:
Dating a mafia heir didn't just make her special.
It made her a target.