"What are you here for?" she demanded, finally turning to face him fully.
"Came to take you and show you around. I am your guide, remember?" Vyne spread his hands in an exaggerated display of innocence that fooled absolutely no one. "Plus, you looked like you could use some friendly company to the dining hall."
"I'm not ready yet," Blazar said, turning back toward her scattered belongings with the kind of dismissive gesture that usually ended conversations.
"You're not ready yet?" Vyne repeated, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline in genuine surprise. "It's past eight, Blazar. How much more ready do you need to be?"
Blazar snatched up her phone from where it had been charging on the windowsill, fingers flying across the screen with practiced efficiency before tossing it toward him in a perfect arc.
Vyne caught it against his chest with an 'oof' of surprise, his reflexes just quick enough to prevent it from clattering to the floor.
"Here, fill in your contact details. I'll call if I need anything." The words came out clipped, professional, putting distance between them with practiced precision.
Vyne tapped a few quick strokes on the screen, his expression thoughtful as he entered his information, before tossing the phone back to Blazar with a gentle underhand throw.
The device landed on the bed with a soft thump, bouncing once on the thin mattress.
"Call me when you need me, then," he said with a wink that made her jaw tighten with irritation.
There was something in his tone—a knowing quality that suggested he saw right through her walls.
Definitely not, Blazar thought, the words razor-sharp in her mind, cutting through any possibility of genuine connection.
But she gave him the barest nod—just enough to get him out of her room without further conversation, just enough to maintain the illusion of politeness.
The unspoken "Now get out" hung heavy in the air between them like smoke from a funeral pyre.
The door clicked shut behind him, and she finally released the breath she'd been holding, her shoulders sagging as the tension drained from her frame like water from a broken dam.
She waited for what felt like hours, doing nothing but playing a mindless video game on her phone.
Something involving matching colored gems that required zero thought and provided just enough distraction to keep the darker thoughts at bay.
The tower's sounds gradually faded: muffled conversations dissolving into whispers, footsteps in the hallway growing sparse, doors slamming with decreasing frequency until finally, blessed silence settled over the building like a heavy blanket.
Alone at last. Or so she thought.
When she was reasonably certain the coast was clear, she moved like a shadow—snatching her towel and toiletries with practiced efficiency.
Slipping into the hallway on bare feet that made no sound on the cold stone floor.
Every step was measured, calculated, her ears straining for any sign of other students who might have had the same idea.
The communal bathroom door creaked as she pushed it open, the sound unnaturally loud in the empty corridor, making her wince and freeze for several heartbeats before continuing forward.
The shower was hasty—scalding water that turned her pale skin pink and made her gasp, rushed motions with the soap as she scrubbed away the anxiety-sweat of the past few days.
Every second stretched taut with the fear of being caught.
When she finally turned off the water, her ears strained for any sound beyond the steady drip of the faucet echoing off the tiles.
Towel wrapped tightly around her chest, secured with the kind of death-grip that suggested she'd rather die than let it slip.
Her damp wolftail hung loose around her shoulders in wet tendrils that clung to her neck.
Blazar stepped out of the shower stall into the sink area—that awkward transitional space of porcelain basins and fogged mirrors where students groomed themselves before facing the world's judgment.
And froze.
Two figures materialized through the steam like apparitions from her worst nightmare.
Men.
Both wore towels slung low on their hips, the damp fabric clinging to their bodies and doing little to conceal their physiques.
The first was all hard planes and corded muscle, water still glistening on his broad chest like liquid silver, each droplet catching the harsh fluorescent light.
Dark hair plastered to his skull, and when he turned to face her fully, she could see the way his muscles shifted beneath his skin like a predator preparing to strike.
The second was leaner but no less dangerous-looking, his body honed like a blade—all sharp angles and contained power, with the kind of quiet intensity that suggested violence was always just beneath the surface.
Time stopped as their eyes met, the world narrowing to this single moment of mutual shock and growing horror.
The muscular one—a dark mole stark against the bridge of his nose like a beauty mark placed by some cruel god—was the first to break the silence that stretched between them like a taut wire.
"What the actual fuck," he growled, his voice ricocheting off the tiled walls with enough force to make her flinch.
"You do know the girls' tower is all the way in the southern compound, right? Like, a twenty-minute walk through three different courtyards?"
The leaner one simply raised an eyebrow, his gaze traveling from her damp hair to the towel clutched at her chest with white-knuckled fingers, taking in every detail with the kind of clinical assessment that made her skin crawl.
He didn't speak, but somehow his silence was more unnerving than his companion's outrage.
Shit. Blazar's stomach dropped like a stone thrown from a cliff, plummeting into an abyss of mortification and rising panic.
I've really messed up now. A slow sigh escaped her lips as she calculated her options, her pulse hammering in her throat like a trapped bird desperate for escape.
She was stranded. Stuck. Standing half-naked in front of two towering strangers, their gazes raking over her with a hunger that had nothing to do with mercy. The air thickened with danger—one wrong move, one misplaced word, and she'd be discorvered. Reported. Executed. Her mission, her life, snuffed out before this waking nightmare had even truly begun.