The classroom door groans open under your palm, and the atmosphere shifts instantly. Polished mahonies line the walls. Crystal chandeliers cast sharp shadows across faces that have seen too much too young. Every conversation dies mid-sentence as dozens of eyes lock onto you.
You weren't supposed to be here. This wasn't a normal school.
In the back row, past rows of tailored suits and designer uniforms, sits someone different. Dante Salvatore doesn't just look at you. He studies you like a predator spotting something rare and precious. His fingers stop drumming against the desk. His jaw tightens. The air around him seems to crackle with sudden, focused intensity.
Mira shifts nervously beside you, her hand gripping your sleeve. She whispers an apology you don't quite hear because your gaze has already met his. Dark eyes. Unblinking. Hungry.
This was supposed to be a simple visit to your friend's school. Instead, you've just walked into the crosshairs of the most dangerous heir in the underworld, and something tells you he has no intention of looking away.
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