The rest of the day crawled by in a blur of whispered rumors, sideways stares, and the suffocating awareness that every step Anabeth took was monitored — by both sides of a war she didn't understand.
Her classmates whispered openly now.
"She thinks she's special…"
"Rafael De Luca? That's insane…"
"Someone like her doesn't belong with someone like him…"
Every word felt like tiny cuts.
Every glance reminded her she was no longer just Anabeth, the freshman girl with a bright smile and messy past.
She was now the girl Rafael protected — and everyone had something to say about it.
---
Marco Moves Closer
After her third lecture, Marco approached her again, blending into the flow of students with remarkable skill. He kept his voice low, professional, not a hint of friendliness.
"There are more of us now," he murmured.
"More?" she asked, tightening her grip on her bag.
"Until Rafael identifies the other watcher, he wants extra eyes. Don't break away from crowded areas. Don't walk alone. Don't talk to strangers."
A humorless laugh escaped her.
"I'm on campus, Marco. Everyone here is a stranger."
His expression softened slightly, just for a second.
"I know."
He walked with her toward the library, staying half a step behind — close enough to intervene, far enough not to draw attention. But Anabeth could feel the tension radiating off him, the way he kept scanning rooftops, doorways, windows.
Then he stiffened.
"There," he said under his breath.
Anabeth followed his gaze.
The man in the grey hoodie stood across the courtyard, leaning casually against a vending machine. Students passed him, oblivious. But his eyes — cold and sharp — were locked on her.
Marco's voice dropped into something darker.
"That is not a student."
Her pulse quickened.
"W-Who is he?"
"We don't know yet. But he knows Rafael. And he definitely knows you."
The man in the hoodie lifted his hand slowly… as if greeting her.
Not waving.
Not threatening.
Just acknowledging her.
Then he slipped into the crowd and disappeared.
Marco cursed and pulled out a phone instantly.
"Target confirmed. West courtyard. Move now."
Anabeth's heart hammered as she watched three more men in plain clothes split off in different directions.
This wasn't campus security.
This wasn't school drama.
This was war.
---
The Message
Marco escorted her straight to the library. Inside, the atmosphere felt safer — quieter — until Anabeth noticed something taped to her locker.
A paper.
Folded neatly.
Her name written on it.
Her stomach twisted.
Marco reached for it, but she grabbed it first.
The handwriting was smooth. Confident.
Not Rafael's.
Inside, just one chilling sentence:
"You look prettier when you're scared."
Her breath froze in her chest.
The edges of the paper trembled in her fingers.
The world around her blurred, turning soft and distant.
Marco snatched the note, scanning it quickly before shoving it into his jacket.
"I'm calling him," he said. "Right now."
"No—wait—" But he was already stepping aside, phone pressed to his ear.
She could hear Rafael's voice, faint but sharp like a blade.
Marco spoke fast, low, tense.
"She got a message. He's bold, boss. He's close."
A pause. Then Rafael's tone sank deeper.
"Keep her where you can see her. I'm coming."
Anabeth felt her chest tighten.
Rafael.
Coming here.
To campus.
That meant something had escalated — badly.
---
The Storm Arrives
Thirty minutes later, the doors of the library opened with a heavy thud.
Rafael stepped inside.
Black shirt.
Black jacket.
Black expression.
Students froze mid-sentence.
Some gasped.
Some stared with wide eyes, shrinking back instinctively.
He looked like trouble.
He looked like danger.
He looked like the kind of man mothers warned their daughters about.
But when his eyes landed on Anabeth…
His entire face changed.
The hardness melted into something fierce, raw, protective.
He crossed the distance in seconds.
"Anabeth," he said, voice low with relief and anger tangled together. "Are you alright?"
She nodded shakily, but her eyes burned with unshed tears. "I'm fine. I just—Rafael, who is he? What does he want?"
Rafael cupped her face gently, his hands warm against her cold cheeks.
"He wants me," he said quietly. "And now he knows the best way to get to me."
Anabeth swallowed hard.
"The note…"
His jaw clenched so tightly the muscles trembled.
"Marco told me."
Rafael turned to Marco, voice dropping into a tone that made the room shrink.
"I want him found. Today."
Marco nodded. "Already searching."
Rafael took Anabeth's hand, pulling her slightly behind him.
"You're coming with me."
"Where?" she whispered.
"Somewhere safer than here."
Her voice cracked.
"Rafael… what if he's still here? Watching?"
He looked down at her, expression softening just for her.
"Then let him watch," Rafael said.
"He'll learn what happens to men who threaten what's mine."
---
Eyes Watching Again
Rafael guided her through the library toward the back exit. Marco and two others spread out like shadows.
But just as they reached the glass doors…
Anabeth's eyes widened.
Across the courtyard.
On the second-floor balcony of the arts building.
The grey hoodie.
He stood silently, leaning against the railing, eyes fixed on her.
No fear.
No hurry.
No attempt to hide.
He lifted two fingers to his forehead…
…and gave her a slow, mocking salute.
Anabeth flinched.
Rafael turned sharply.
"What is it?" he murmured.
She pointed.
But the balcony was empty.
The grey hoodie was gone.
Again.