Chapter 27
The Sinclair brothers were relentless. Over the past few days, their quiet, calculated pressure had begun to crack the students involved in the conspiracy. Andrea watched as one by one, they folded under the weight of the brothers’ influence, each revealing fragments of the larger plot.
Today, the interrogation had reached a boiling point. The suspect, a wiry boy named Connor, sat in one of the Sinclair dormitory’s smaller study rooms, his leg bouncing nervously under the table. Nathaniel sat at the head, his sharp eyes boring into Connor as Damien stood silently at the window, his fingers tapping on the sill.
Aiden leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his posture deceptively relaxed. Andrea stood a few feet away, trying to remain invisible while the tension in the room grew thicker by the second.
“Let’s go over this again,” Nathaniel said, his voice calm but cold. “You said you were approached. Who was it?”
“I don’t know their name!” Connor blurted, his voice cracking. “I swear, it was anonymous. They just… left notes in my bag.”
“Notes,” Nathaniel repeated, his tone flat. “And what did these notes say?”
“They just gave instructions,” Connor stammered, avoiding Nathaniel’s gaze. “What to do, who to talk to… It wasn’t my idea, I was just following orders!”
“Convenient excuse,” Damien muttered from the window.
Nathaniel’s jaw tightened, his patience visibly thinning. “Who’s behind it, Connor? We know you’re not smart enough to pull this off yourself.”
Connor flinched, glancing nervously at Aiden.
Aiden straightened from the wall, his intense gaze locking onto Connor. “Don’t look at me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You should be worried about what happens if you keep lying.”
“I’m not lying!” Connor shouted, his voice rising in desperation. “I don’t know who’s behind it, okay? I don’t know!”
The sudden outburst startled Andrea, and she took a small step back. Connor’s eyes darted toward her, his expression twisting with frustration.
“This is all because of her,” he spat, pointing a shaky finger at Andrea. “If she hadn’t—”
“That’s enough,” Aiden growled, stepping forward and placing himself squarely between Connor and Andrea.
Connor shrank back in his chair, but Aiden didn’t stop. His fists clenched at his sides, his voice cold and sharp. “If you so much as look at her the wrong way again, you’ll regret it. Do you understand me?”
The room fell silent, the weight of Aiden’s words pressing down on everyone.
“Aiden,” Andrea said softly, her voice barely audible.
He turned to her, his expression still hard, but his eyes softened slightly when they met hers.
“Let it go,” she whispered, her gaze steady.
Aiden hesitated, his jaw tightening before he stepped back.
Nathaniel cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “We’re done here,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Get him out of my sight.”
Damien gestured for Connor to leave, his cold stare making it clear there would be no second chances.
Andrea watched as Connor scrambled out of the room, his shoulders hunched in defeat.
That night, Andrea returned to her dorm, the events of the day replaying in her mind. Aiden’s protective outburst had left her shaken—not because she felt unsafe, but because of the way he had looked at her, the intensity of his words.
She flicked on the light, her eyes scanning the room out of habit. Everything seemed normal—until she turned toward the mirror.
Her breath caught.
Scrawled across the glass in jagged red letters were the words:
“Queens who don’t know their place will fall.”
Andrea’s chest tightened as she stared at the message, her reflection distorted by the sharp, angry writing. The lipstick used to write it was smeared slightly at the edges, as though whoever had written it had been in a hurry.
She backed away, her heart racing.
“Sophie?” she called, but her roommate wasn’t there.
Andrea’s mind raced. Someone had been in her room. Someone had left this message for her.
