Blue Hour cast cobalt shadows across Eldenwood's study hall. Vivian Vaughn gnawed her Montblanc pen cap, probation essay draft glaringly blank. Three shredded pages littered her oak carrel like casualties of war.
A scuffle erupted near the philosophy section. Dylan "Ziggy" Chen had migrated beside Gwen Porter—Eldenwood's newest transfer from Montana. His elbow encroached on her annotated copy of Paradise Lost.
"Gwenny-girl," Dylan crooned, "Got that poetic touch for disciplinary essays?"
Gwen's spine stiffened to ramrod precision. "I've never... that is..."
"Never rebelled?" Dylan tsked. "Live a little! Help a legacy out!"
Vivian kicked Roxy's chair. "Ziggy's harassing the scholarship kid. Do your prefect duty."
Roxy didn't lift her head from Vogue Paris. "Report him to Scarlett. I'm off-duty."
Scarlett Finch, Oak Hall's junior prefect, pretended deafness while highlighting Kant's Critique.
Vivian: (Stage-whispering) "Pathetic! Watch this—" She lobbed a stress ball at Dylan's head.
Dylan: (Dodging) "Jealous, Vaughn? Gwen appreciates my charm!"
Gwen: (Eyes wide) "I truly don't—"
Roxy: (Slamming her magazine) "Ziggy! Her cortisol levels are spiking! Retreat!"
Dylan: (Flashing Gwen dimples) "Switching tactics. Explain Riemann sums?"
Gwen thawed visibly. Midwestern earnestness compelled her to guide Dylan through calculus proofs.
Vivian: (To Roxy) "Should I ask Adrian for 'tutoring'?"
Roxy: (Snorting) "The Stone Sentinel? He'd incinerate you with a glare."
Vivian: "Kane Volkov survived my glare."
Roxy: "Volkov's feral. Stone's glacial. Different extinction events."
Vivian's finger drifted toward her right brow. "That mark near his eye... Cobra's trademark?"
Roxy froze. "Why ask?"
Vivian: "Nexus' commander had one. Identical placement."
Roxy: (Voice brittle) "Scars aren't birthmarks, V." She snapped her compact shut.
Dismissal chimes unleashed chaos. Bryce materialized at Vivian's carrel, leather satchel slung carelessly.
"Procrastinating?" He plucked her blank parchment. "Xu's drafting yours. Standard 'recalibration of youthful exuberance' template."
Dylan vaulted over carrels. "Duplicate it, Sterling! My dad's threatening to revoke my Aston Martin privileges!"
Bryce tossed Dylan a USB drive. "Xu's algorithmic variations prevent plagiarism flags."
"Genius!" Dylan caught it midair. "Gwen! Need a ride? My driver's idling at the gates!"
Gwen clutched her threadbare tote. "The shuttle suffices—"
"Shuttles are for plebes!" Dylan steered her toward the cloisters.
Elias Moore lingered nearby, organizing Kafka first editions. Vivian intercepted his retreat.
Vivian: "Ignore Ziggy. His attention span's shorter than his credit limit."
Elias: (Adjusting wireframes) "He seems... enthusiastically persistent."
Dylan chose that moment to attempt a fireman's carry on Gwen. Elias flinched.
Vivian: "DITCH THE DAMN TOME, ZIGGY!" She hurled Thus Spoke Zarathustra at him.
Dylan: (Ducking) "Violence, V? Is that any way to treat— YOWCH!" Gwen stomped his instep.
Bryce: "Rookie mistake. Never corner a ranch-raised girl."
Gwen: (Blushing) "My brothers taught me that."
Scarlett: (Finally speaking) "Mr. Chen! Detention extension!"
Dylan: "Add it to my tab, Finch!" He scooped Gwen over his shoulder. "Tally-ho!"
Elias stared as Dylan's laughter echoed off Gothic arches. "Should we... intervene?"
Vivian: "Gwen's survival instincts are sharper than Stone's SAT scores." She snatched Bryce's collar. "Now—about my probation essay—"
A commotion erupted at the cloister entrance. Dylan's chauffeur stood arms crossed, gold braided epaulettes gleaming.
Chauffeur: "Master Dylan. Your father's conference call commences in eighteen minutes."
Dylan: (Setting Gwen down) "Spoilsport." He winked at Gwen. "Raincheck on the joyride?"
Vivian's laughter died as she glimpsed Melody observing from the admissions office. Her stepsister's phone was discreetly angled—recording.
Bryce steered Vivian toward the east gate. "Volkov's mark—why probe Roxy?"
"His fight style," Vivian murmured. "That knee strike? Identical to the move Roxy used when defending us at The Neon Viper last year."
Bryce halted. "You think Kane taught her?"
"Think?" Vivian's smile held no warmth. "Roxy spent last summer 'volunteering' at a Queens youth center. The Cobra's Nest Boxing Club happens to be next door."
A Ducati's growl vibrated through twilight. Kane Volkov leaned against his motorcycle at the curb, aviators hiding his eyes—but not the smirk. His gloved finger tapped the infamous mark.
Recognize this now? the gesture teased.
Before Vivian could react, Adrian Stone emerged from the library annex. His trajectory intersected Kane's. Two predators sizing each other—one in cashmere, one in leather.
Adrian's gaze flickered toward Vivian. For a nanosecond, glacial met volcanic. Then he walked on, untouched.
Kane revved his engine, shattering the silence. His wink at Vivian promised future chaos.