The walk from the Auditorium to the Art Wing felt like a funeral procession for Elian.
His legs felt like lead. Every breath was a struggle.
"I can't go in there," Elian whispered, clutching his canvas bag. "I need to go home. I have... a sudden onset of plague."
Jax grabbed the back of Elian's beige sweater, lifting him slightly like a naughty kitten.
"Relax, Teddy Bear. It's just an inspection. Why are you so scared of the Trustees? Do you owe them money?"
"Worse," Elian squeaked. "I owe them my life."
Chloe was busy applying lip gloss. "Well, I hope Kaelen looks at me. Did you see his tattoos? Dangerous men are my type."
Liam adjusted his glasses. "Statistically, interacting with the Blackwood brothers results in a 90% chance of psychological trauma. I advise avoiding eye contact."
They reached the Advanced Art Studio.
It was a massive room with high ceilings, smelling strongly of oil paint, turpentine, and clay. Canvases were lined up in rows.
Elian ran to the farthest corner of the room, behind a large pillar.
"This is my spot," Elian declared. "No one moves me."
He set up his easel and hid behind a large, half-finished painting of a stormy sea. He pulled his fake glasses up, messed up his hair even more, and prayed to every god he knew.
The Arrival
Ten minutes later, the heavy double doors creaked open.
The chatter in the room died instantly. Even the sound of brushes hitting canvas stopped.
The Dean walked in, sweating profusely.
"Students, attention! Our Trustees are here to inspect the facilities."
Kieran Blackwood entered first. He scanned the room with cold precision, checking the equipment, the lighting, the ventilation. He was all business.
Then, Kaelen Blackwood entered.
He didn't look at the equipment. He didn't look at the Dean.
He walked slowly down the center aisle, his hands in his pockets. His presence filled the room like a dark fog.
He stopped at a student's easel. He looked at the painting of a flower.
"Boring," Kaelen muttered, moving on.
He stopped at another one.
"Trash."
He was brutal. He was bored. He was looking for something—or someone—else.
Gabriel Cross and Serena Vance were set up near the front, naturally.
Serena had positioned herself in perfect lighting. She looked fragile and artistic, holding a paintbrush like a prop.
When Kaelen approached, Serena smiled shyly. "Hello, Mr. Blackwood. I'm working on a piece about—"
Kaelen didn't even stop walking. He didn't look at her. It was as if she was invisible.
Serena's smile froze.
Gabriel, seeing Serena ignored, stepped forward confidently.
"Mr. Blackwood," Gabriel said, pointing to his own canvas (a portrait of himself, ironically). "I think you'll find the talent in this room is exceptional."
Kaelen stopped. He turned slowly to Gabriel.
He looked at the painting. Then he looked at Gabriel.
"Narcissism isn't talent," Kaelen said, his voice loud enough for the whole room to hear. "It's just a waste of paint."
The class gasped. Chloe tried to stifle a laugh but ended up snorting.
Gabriel's face turned bright red. He clenched his fists, humiliated.
The Hunt
Kaelen continued walking. He was getting closer to the back of the room.
Closer to the pillar.
Closer to Elian.
Elian was hyperventilating quietly. He grabbed a paintbrush and started aggressively painting a dark cloud on his canvas, trying to look busy.
Don't come here. Don't come here. Go away.
But fate was cruel.
Kaelen stopped right next to Jax.
He looked up at the giant rugby player. Jax looked down at him. They were almost the same height.
"You're big," Kaelen noted. "You blocking the view on purpose?"
"Maybe," Jax shrugged, not intimidated. "Depends on what you're looking for."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. He stepped around Jax.
And there he was.
Elian.
Elian was hunched over, his face almost touching the canvas. His oversized sweater swallowed him. His fake glasses were sliding down his nose. He looked like a terrified, messy art student.
Kaelen stared at Elian's back.
He felt... something. A twitch in his fingers. A whisper in his mind.
He took a step closer. He leaned down, his face inches from Elian's hair.
He inhaled.
Elian stopped breathing. He's smelling me. He's literally sniffing me.
Kaelen frowned.
He smelled Oil Paint.
He smelled Turpentine (strong chemical smell).
He smelled Dust.
The strong chemical odors of the art studio completely masked Elian's natural Vanilla scent.
"You," Kaelen spoke. His voice vibrated through Elian's bones.
Elian didn't turn. He deepened his voice, making it sound raspy. "Yes, sir?"
"Look at me when I speak to you."
Elian's heart hammered. If he turned, would Kaelen recognize the violet eyes?
The glasses hid them, but was it enough?
Slowly, painfully, Elian turned his head.
He kept his chin down, looking at Kaelen through the thick rims of the fake glasses. He squinted his eyes, making them look smaller.
Kaelen stared at the boy.
Messy hair. Baggy clothes. Stupid glasses. Paint on his cheek.
He looked nothing like the ethereal "Angel" from the garden.
"What is your name?" Kaelen asked, his eyes searching for a spark.
"Elian," he whispered.
"Elian Sterling," Kieran's voice cut in.
Kieran had appeared behind Kaelen. He looked at Elian with cold disinterest.
"The youngest Sterling brother. The one with... no notable achievements."
Kaelen looked at Elian one last time. The pull was there, but the visual didn't match. And the scent was wrong.
Kaelen straightened up. The disappointment in his eyes was terrifying.
"You're right," Kaelen muttered, turning his back on Elian. "Just another waste of canvas."
He walked away.
The Aftermath
"We are done here," Kieran announced.
"The budget is approved. Fix the ventilation; it smells terrible in here."
The Twins walked out of the studio.
As soon as the doors closed, the room exploded into whispers.
Elian dropped his paintbrush. His legs gave out, and he slid down the wall to the floor.
"Elian!" Chloe rushed over. "Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost."
"I think I need to go home," Elian gasped, clutching his chest. "I think I'm having a heart attack."
Milo fanned him with a sketchbook. "Did you hear what he said to Gabriel? 'Narcissism isn't talent!' Oh my god, I need to tweet that."
Jax crouched down, looking at the door where the Twins had left.
"That guy," Jax rumbled, his eyes dark. "He was too close to you, Elian. I didn't like it."
Elian looked at his friends. He was safe. The disguise worked. The paint smell saved him.
But he knew one thing for sure.
Kaelen Blackwood wasn't going to give up.
He had come to the Art Room because he suspected something.
Next time, there might not be turpentine to hide the scent.
"I need stronger perfume," Elian whispered to himself. "And maybe a bodysuit."