The sky above Brewster University looked dull and heavy, like a worn sheet stretched across the morning. The sun struggled somewhere behind thick clouds, casting only a weak gray light over the old campus.
The air smelled of damp earth and fallen maple leaves that had begun turning yellow at the edges.
Red-brick buildings rose proudly around the courtyard, their tall windows framed in white stone. They had stood here for more than a century, watching generations of students come and go.
If those walls could speak, they would tell stories no one was meant to hear.
Across the courtyard, students flowed through the pathways like restless water.
Laughter echoed.
Arguments about homework.
Shoes striking the stone pavement.
Life.
So much life.
And to Rafael Nightborne—
It was unbearable noise.
He stood at the top of the Humanities building steps, his black suit perfectly pressed, untouched by the morning breeze. Not a wrinkle, not a thread out of place.
He looked like a statue placed there by accident.
But Rafael wasn't listening to the voices around him.
He was listening to something else.
Heartbeats.
Hundreds of them pulsed through the air like an endless orchestra.
Fast ones.
Slow ones.
Excited ones.
Nervous ones.
Every rhythm was different.
Every pulse clear.
Every life unmistakably present.
Except one.
His gaze fixed across the courtyard.
Morgan.
She stepped out of the library doors, clutching a thick book against her chest. Her brown hair moved loosely with the wind, slightly messy in a way that seemed natural rather than careless. The oversized gray sweater she wore made her appear smaller than she actually was.
Ordinary.
Completely ordinary.
Yet Rafael focused his hearing.
Sharpening it.
Filtering every heartbeat around her.
The boy walking behind her—eighty-two beats per minute.
A girl laughing with her friend—ninety, slightly fast.
The groundskeeper near the garden—seventy, slow and steady.
Morgan?
Nothing.
Not faint.
Not weak.
Nothing.
Silence.
A silence so complete it felt unnatural—like standing in the center of a vacuum.
Rafael's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Impossible…" he murmured.
Morgan noticed him only when she was halfway across the courtyard.
Her steps slowed.
Oh no.
The new lecturer.
The one everyone kept whispering about.
Strict.
Cold.
Never smiled.
Rumor said his classes were impossible to pass.
Morgan forced herself to breathe normally.
Just walk.
Act normal.
Don't stare.
But why is he always everywhere?
As she approached the steps, Rafael moved down one stair.
Not enough to block her path.
Just enough that their shoulders nearly brushed.
Morgan stopped instinctively.
"Morning, sir," she said quickly.
Rafael turned his head slowly toward her.
His eyes were dark.
Too dark.
Sharp in a way that made Morgan feel like she was standing under a microscope.
"Miss Cliffstone."
Morgan blinked.
"Cliffstone?"
"Yes."
"That's not my name."
Rafael studied her face without the slightest change in expression.
"My last name is Clifford, sir."
A small pause followed.
"I see," Rafael replied calmly. "Miss Clifford."
Morgan nodded awkwardly.
For some reason, standing near him made her feel… off balance.
"Do you always walk without paying attention to your surroundings?" Rafael asked.
Morgan frowned.
"Excuse me?"
"Your steps are unstable."
"I'm fine."
Rafael stepped half a pace closer.
Too close.
Morgan caught a faint scent drifting from him.
It wasn't cologne.
It wasn't perfume.
It smelled like cold rain… and something darker she couldn't quite identify.
Her heart began to race.
And Rafael listened.
Heartbeats exploded around them.
Students walking past.
Students talking nearby.
All of them loud.
But from Morgan's body?
Still nothing.
His gaze lowered slightly toward the book in her hands.
In truth, he was concentrating again.
Listening deeper.
Pushing his senses further.
Searching for even the faintest pulse.
Nothing.
"Sir… is something wrong?" Morgan asked softly.
Rafael lifted his eyes.
"No."
But there was.
Very much so.
"If there is nothing else, Miss Clifford," he said calmly, "you may continue."
Morgan nodded quickly.
"Yes, sir."
She walked past him, resisting the urge to look back.
Only when several steps separated them did she finally exhale.
Behind her, Rafael closed his eyes.
His senses spread outward.
Across the courtyard.
Across the gardens.
Across the buildings.
Heartbeats.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Every human life within reach.
Except one.
He opened his eyes slowly.
"Not a coincidence…"
A memory surfaced in his mind—words spoken long ago by a member of his clan.
If you ever find a human whose heartbeat you cannot hear…
That human is not ordinary.
And the final target protected by a rival clan…
Was rumored to be studying at Brewster University.
Rafael watched Morgan disappear farther down the path.
This was no longer just a mission.
Because for the first time since he had become a vampire—
That silence disturbed him.
And he wanted to break it.
Not for the clan.
Not for power.
But because Morgan awakened something far more dangerous than thirst.
Curiosity.
And in Rafael's world—
Curiosity always ended in blood.
He turned and walked into the Humanities building, his black coat disappearing through the doors.
Outside, Morgan finally relaxed.
Or at least she tried to.
A rough laugh sounded behind her.
"Well, well… look who survived her meeting with the Ice King."
Morgan closed her eyes briefly before turning.
Dylan Whitmore leaned casually against a garden bench, spinning a basketball on one finger.
Beside him stood Lucas Hale and Brandon Cole.
Their expressions were exactly as annoying as ever.
"What do you want, Dylan?" Morgan asked flatly.
Lucas stepped forward with a grin.
"We're just curious. You seemed pretty close to the new lecturer."
"That's called talking."
Brandon snorted.
"Looked like more than that."
Morgan tried to walk past them.
Dylan shifted sideways, blocking her path.
"Relax, Morgan. We're just joking."
Morgan's gaze sharpened.
"Funny for who?"
Lucas deliberately bumped her shoulder.
The books in Morgan's arms slipped.
They hit the ground.
"Oops," Lucas said with fake innocence.
Soft laughter followed.
Morgan crouched to pick up her books.
Their heartbeats were fast.
Not from fear.
From amusement.
They were enjoying this.
Morgan stood again slowly.
"Are you done?" she asked.
Dylan stepped closer, invading her space.
"You know people are starting to talk," he said. "Apparently the new lecturer has favorites."
"And you think that's me?"
Dylan smirked.
"Who else?"
Morgan met his gaze.
Her chest felt tight—but her voice remained steady.
"You're pathetic."
Dylan's smile disappeared instantly.
Brandon clicked his tongue.
"Careful with that mouth."
Morgan tightened her grip on the book in her arms.
For a moment—
She felt watched.
Not by them.
By something colder.
Something quieter.
Her eyes drifted toward the Humanities building where Rafael had entered.
Empty.
Yet the uneasy feeling remained.
Inside the building, Rafael suddenly stopped walking.
He didn't need eyes.
He could hear.
Three heartbeats.
Standing far too close together.
Fast.
Aggressive.
And between them—
Silence.
Morgan.
His hand slowly curled into a fist.
That silence wasn't merely an anomaly.
It was something under his watch now.
And anyone who stood too close to it—
Would soon learn exactly why vampires were once feared as monsters.