Chapter 26
The Sinclair dormitory was quiet when Andrea slipped through the hallways, her footsteps muffled by the plush carpets. Gabriel’s message had been simple: “Come to the studio. Midnight.”
She reached the heavy wooden door tucked at the far end of the west wing. It was slightly ajar, the faint smell of paint and charcoal drifting out. Andrea hesitated for a moment before pushing it open.
The room was a mix of chaos and order. Canvases leaned against the walls, some half-finished, others covered with dark, abstract shapes. Sketches were pinned to a massive corkboard, and a large table in the center was cluttered with papers, brushes, and jars of turpentine.
Gabriel stood at the far end of the room, his back to her as he worked on a sketch, the faint scrape of charcoal against paper the only sound.
“You came,” he said without turning around.
Andrea stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “You didn’t give me much of a choice. ‘Midnight’ isn’t exactly subtle.”
Gabriel turned, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “I figured you’d be curious enough to show up.”
Andrea crossed her arms, arching an eyebrow. “So what’s this about?”
He gestured to the table. “Come look.”
Andrea approached, her eyes scanning the papers scattered across the surface. At first glance, it looked like a mess—names, dates, and notes scrawled in Gabriel’s sharp handwriting. But as she looked closer, a pattern began to emerge.
“What is this?” she asked, her voice quiet.
“A timeline,” Gabriel said, moving to stand beside her. “Of attacks. Threats. Suspicious expulsions.” He reached out, his charcoal-stained fingers tracing over the notes. “It’s not just you, Andrea. This has been happening for years.”
Andrea’s stomach tightened as she leaned closer. “To who?”
“Scholarship students,” Gabriel said softly. “The ones who stand out too much. The ones who don’t know when to stay in their lane.”
Andrea frowned, her eyes flicking over the names. She recognized a few of them—Emma Lawrence among them—but others were unfamiliar.
“They’ve been targeting anyone who challenges the status quo,” Gabriel continued, his voice steady but laced with anger. “It’s not just about power. It’s about control.”
Andrea exhaled shakily, her hands brushing over the papers. “And no one’s done anything about it?”
Gabriel’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Because no one’s cared enough to look. Until now.”
Andrea glanced at him, her heart pounding. “How did you figure this out?”
Gabriel leaned against the edge of the table, his sharp eyes scanning the board behind them. “I watch people, Andrea. I see things other people miss.”
Andrea felt a shiver run down her spine. “You mean… you’ve been watching me?”
Gabriel’s gaze shifted to hers, steady and unflinching. “Yes.”
The single word sent her pulse racing.
“Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Gabriel hesitated, his fingers brushing over the edge of one of the papers. “Because you don’t belong here,” he said finally. “Not the way they think you do. You don’t play their games, and that makes you dangerous. To them. And to yourself.”
Andrea swallowed hard, her chest tightening. “I don’t want to be dangerous. I just want to survive this place.”
Gabriel’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “Survival isn’t enough, Andrea. Not here.”
Their conversation fell into silence as they pored over the evidence together, their heads bending close over the table. Gabriel’s fingers, stained with charcoal, traced connections on the papers, drawing lines between names and events.
Andrea reached for one of the sketches pinned to the corkboard, her hand brushing against Gabriel’s.
The touch was electric, sending a jolt up her arm. She froze, her eyes darting to his.
Gabriel didn’t pull away. Instead, he caught her wrist gently, his thumb brushing over her pulse point. His touch was warm, steady, and it made her heart pound in her chest.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked softly, her voice trembling.
Gabriel’s eyes searched hers, his expression unreadable. “Because someone has to,” he said finally. “And because I want to.”
Andrea’s breath caught. The tenderness in his gaze made her chest tighten, the air between them suddenly thick and charged.
“Gabriel,” she started, unsure of what she was even trying to say.
But before she could finish, Gabriel let go of her wrist, stepping back slightly as if the moment had never happened.
