The rest of the day blurred into a haze of whispered thoughts and watchful eyes.
Anabeth tried to attend her afternoon classes, but her mind kept drifting back to the garden behind the library… to the feel of Rafael's hands on her waist… to the way his voice had broken slightly when he said You're mine to protect.
And beneath all the warmth in her chest, something else lingered:
The cold edge of fear.
The man in the black polo—Rafael's man—never drifted far. He stayed in the background, blending in effortlessly. Anyone else would assume he was just another student grabbing coffee or heading to class.
But Anabeth knew better.
He was a shadow.
Her shadow.
And although she appreciated Rafael trying to keep her safe, every time she caught the man watching the corridor or scanning the crowd, she couldn't help thinking:
What exactly is he afraid will happen to me?
By evening, she was headed toward her dorm. The sun had dipped low, painting the sky in orange streaks. Students crossed the quad in groups, some heading to dinner, some to club meetings, some to late-night study sessions.
Everything looked normal.
Completely normal.
And that made her feel more alone.
Her steps slowed when she reached the entrance of her building. Usually she would just walk right in, but tonight something felt… off.
The doormat was slightly crooked.
The potted plant beside the door had shifted.
And the air around the door seemed colder than everywhere else.
It was small, barely noticeable.
But Anabeth noticed.
She hesitated, her fingers trembling as she reached for the handle.
Then—
"Don't."
A familiar voice spoke from the shadows of the courtyard.
She turned sharply.
Rafael stepped forward, wearing a black hoodie that made him blend with the night. His hair fell slightly over his forehead, and his expression was carved in seriousness.
"Rafael?" she whispered. "What—how long have you been here?"
"Long enough," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the dorm entrance.
Then he looked at her—really looked—and his shoulders relaxed with visible relief.
"You didn't go inside," he exhaled. "Good."
"Why? What's wrong?"
He walked past her, checking the doorframe. His fingers brushed something she hadn't seen—a small paper card wedged between the wood and metal.
Anabeth's breath froze.
A card.
Just like the one in her locker.
Rafael pulled it out with two fingers and turned it toward the light.
An ink-black raven.
But this time, the red-painted wing was dripping.
As if it were bleeding.
Anabeth's chest tightened painfully. "He was here?"
Rafael didn't answer immediately. He simply stared at the card, his jaw clenching, the muscle jumping in anger.
"This is Leon's style," he said finally, voice low and vibrating with restrained fury. "He likes messages. He likes symbols. He likes leaving warnings instead of touching first."
Her stomach twisted. "Warnings for who? Me or you?"
Rafael's eyes lifted to hers.
"For both of us."
Before fear could fully take over, Rafael reached out and gently pulled her closer by the wrist. The warmth of his touch steadied her heartbeat.
"We're not going inside," he said. "Not tonight. Not until my men sweep the place."
"But my belongings—"
"They're just things." His thumb brushed her wrist. "You are not."
Her breath caught.
He wasn't saying it like a possessive criminal.
He was saying it like a man terrified of losing something precious.
Anabeth swallowed. "Rafael… what if he's watching us right now?"
"He is," Rafael said without hesitation. "Leon loves watching more than acting."
The words sent a chill down her spine.
Rafael looked over his shoulder and signaled subtly with his hand. The man in the black polo appeared from behind a cluster of trees and nodded before slipping inside the building to inspect the dorm.
Anabeth hugged herself.
"I didn't think he would come this close."
Rafael stepped in front of her again, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear with surprising tenderness.
"He's getting bolder," he admitted. "And when Leon gets bold… he becomes unpredictable."
She exhaled shakily. "So what now?"
Rafael hesitated.
And that hesitation scared her more than anything.
"What?" she pressed.
"We need to take you somewhere safer for a while."
Her eyes widened. "You mean… off-campus?"
"Yes."
"But Rafael—my classes, my roommates, people will talk—"
"I don't care what anyone says," he said, voice deep, certain. "I care that someone stepped inside your dorm building while I wasn't here. I care that he left you this." He held up the raven card. "I care that he's testing limits."
He took her hands gently, bringing them to his chest.
"And I care that you're shaking."
She hadn't realized she was, but when he said it, the trembling became impossible to ignore.
He softened his voice, lowering his forehead to hers.
"You're safe with me," he whispered. "And until this ends, I'm not letting you stay alone."
For a moment, the world narrowed to his breath warming her skin, his hands wrapped around hers, his heartbeat steady beneath her palms.
But then—
A soft vibration buzzed in Rafael's back pocket.
He pulled his phone out and glanced at the screen. His expression went sharp, lethal.
"What is it?" she whispered.
"My man texted," Rafael murmured. "Your room was entered. Nothing taken. Nothing broken."
Anabeth's blood ran cold.
"Then why…?"
Rafael's jaw tightened. "Because he didn't come to steal something."
Her breath hitched. "Then what—"
"To prove," Rafael said, lifting her chin with shaking anger,
"that he can reach you whenever he wants."
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
"He's playing a game," Rafael said. "But he doesn't realize something."
"What?" she whispered.
Rafael took her face in his hands, eyes burning with quiet, unstoppable fury.
"That I play harder."
A car pulled up at the curb—sleek, dark, tinted windows. One of Rafael's drivers.
He rested a hand on her lower back, guiding her gently.
"You're coming with me tonight," he said. "Somewhere Leon can't follow. Somewhere he'd never dare step."
Anabeth nodded, fear and relief mixing inside her chest.
Rafael opened the door and helped her inside as if she were glass.
As he slid in next to her and the doors shut, enclosing them in soft darkness, she realized something:
This wasn't just about danger anymore.
This was personal.
For both of them.
And the game Leon had started…
Rafael was more than ready to finish.