Aeris
I didn't sleep that night.
Not really.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him — my uncle — standing in the hallway of the school, smiling like he hadn't nearly broken every part of me.
But I also saw something else.
Three boys. Quiet. Calculating. Mine, in a way that defied explanation.
I'd spent four years thinking they hated me.
Now they were building plans to keep me alive.
"We'll rotate," Ronan said the next morning, spreading a printed map of the school across the dining table. "Silas follows her in. I watch from the west wing. Kade handles exterior and parking."
I blinked. "You already had this?"
Ronan's jaw twitched. "We planned for contingencies."
"That's terrifying."
"Welcome to our normal."
Silas leaned over the map with a pencil, sketching lines through hallways like it was a military op. "To avoid suspicion, you'll need cover. Friends. Something that looks normal."
"I don't have friends," I muttered.
"You do now," he said. "And one of us should be visible. Just one. To draw attention. Keep eyes where we want them."
I looked between them slowly.
They already knew where this was going.
Ronan lifted his gaze to mine. "I'll do it."
I froze. "Do what?"
"Be your cover."
"You mean…"
"Your boyfriend," he said flatly. "Fake, of course."
My throat went dry.
"I—uh—"
"It makes the most sense," he went on. "I'm already the one people associate with you. I'm quiet. Protective enough to sell the image. If anyone questions your sudden change in orbit, they'll look at me. Not deeper."
He said it so matter-of-factly. No emotion. Just logic.
But his eyes—Those weren't cold.
Those were burning.
Silas gave me a smug little smile. "Or I could do it. I mean, I've got the charm, the face, the hands—"
Kade grunted. "Too loud. Too handsy."
"You wish."
"I'll do it," Ronan repeated, eyes still on me. "Unless you have objections."
Objections?
Only all of them.
And none.
Because even now, even after everything, some twisted part of me wanted to know what it would feel like.
To be his.
Even if it was a lie.
"No," I said quietly. "No objections."
Later that day, we stood in the hallway together, testing the waters of the act.
It was just supposed to be a dry run.
But when Ronan stepped closer, looping an arm around my waist with slow precision, my breath hitched like it wasn't fake at all.
His hand rested just under my ribs — firm, claiming, too warm.
My skin burned under his touch.
"This okay?" he murmured, voice brushing against my ear.
I nodded. "Yeah."
"You sure?"
I turned my head, and our faces were right there.
Close enough to taste the unspoken.
Close enough that if either of us moved—
His thumb stroked the side of my waist, just once.
And I felt it.
In my knees. My spine. My stomach.
Desire.
Not panic. Not fear.
Just want.
I pulled away before it could become something else.
Too fast. Too obvious.
He didn't chase me.
Just watched.
And for the first time…
I wasn't sure how much of this plan was strategy.
And how much of it was real.