Chapter 8
Andrea barely had time to react before a hand clamped gently over her mouth, and she was pulled backward through what seemed to be a solid wall. The hidden door clicked shut just as the guards’ footsteps passed by, their voices fading into silence.
The passage was narrow, the air close and tinged with the scent of old wood and stone. Gabriel stood mere inches from her, their bodies pressed together in the tight space. His breath mingled with hers, shallow and uneven, and she could feel his heart pounding against her chest—fast, frantic, matching the rhythm of her own.
“Now you know,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. His hand lingered at her waist, the touch firm but not unkind, as though anchoring her to the moment. “This is why I’ve been trying to keep my distance.”
Andrea’s eyes searched his face in the dim light filtering through the cracks in the wall. His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw, something vulnerable. “Why, Gabriel? What are you so afraid of?”
His gaze dropped to her lips before darting back up to her eyes, a flicker of conflict crossing his face. “Because everyone who gets close to us either becomes part of this world or…” He trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the silence.
Andrea found her voice. “Is that what happened to Emma Lawrence?”
His sharp intake of breath was answer enough. In the dim light filtering through cracks in the wall, his face looked haunted. “Make your choice carefully, Andrea. Once you’re in, there’s no getting out.”
Andrea lingered in the hidden passage long after Gabriel had gone, his words echoing in her mind like a warning she couldn’t ignore. The walls seemed to close in as she navigated her way back to the familiar parts of the mansion, her thoughts spinning.
Emma Lawrence. The unspoken truth behind her name hung heavy in the air, a question that had no safe answer. Gabriel’s haunted expression stayed with her as she finally found her way out, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm inside her.
She didn’t sleep that night. And when dawn broke over Blackthorn Academy the next morning, Andrea’s eyes were open in more ways than one.
The day after dinner, Andrea began to notice things she’d missed before, details that now seemed impossible to ignore. Like how Mr. Patterson, notorious for his strictness, suddenly became engrossed in his coffee mug when Aiden strolled into class twenty minutes late. Or how Mrs. Colin’s hands trembled as she graded Damien’s paper, her gaze darting nervously toward him every few seconds. Even the headmaster—a man whose authority had always seemed absolute—stepped aside without hesitation when Nathaniel passed, his eyes fixed firmly on the ground.
Then there was Victoria. The ever-dominant gossip queen-bee was rendered uncharacteristically meek when Liam casually leaned against the doorframe of their classroom, his golden hair catching the light. The sharp-tongued smirk she usually wielded like a weapon vanished, replaced by a downward stare at her shoes, as if avoiding his gaze was a matter of survival.
“Tell me you’re not considering Nathaniel,” Sophie whispered during lunch, her voice barely audible over the din of the cafeteria.
Her eyes flicked nervously toward the eldest Sinclair, who sat at the center of the room. Nathaniel’s presence was magnetic, his calm authority commanding attention even as he remained silent. Students hung on his every word when he finally spoke, his voice low and deliberate, weaving power into each syllable.
Andrea’s blood ran cold, but she forced her voice to remain steady. “I’m not choosing Nathaniel.”
Sophie exhaled in relief, but her gaze lingered on Andrea. “Good. Just… be careful. None of them are safe.”
That afternoon, Andrea made her decision in the library. The Sinclair brothers were scattered across the room, their books and papers spread out in what appeared to be genuine study. But the tension between them was palpable, an undercurrent of something unspoken yet dangerous.
“I’ve made my decision,” Andrea announced, her voice cutting through the quiet.
Five pairs of eyes snapped to her, each carrying its own weight of expectation. She felt the gravity of their attention as if it were pressing her into the ground.
“I accept Damien’s offer of sponsorship,” she said, her words firm despite the knot tightening in her chest.
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Nathaniel’s smile didn’t falter, but it sharpened, the edges so precise they felt like a threat.
“A logical choice,” he said, his tone smooth as glass. “I do hope you won’t come to regret it.”
Liam’s usual playful grin twisted into something unsettling, the brightness in his eyes dimming to something far darker.
“Our Queen chooses the scientist,” he drawled, his laugh hollow. “How… analytical of her.”
Gabriel didn’t speak. He simply rose and left, his movements stiff. But the look in his eyes before he turned away was heavy with something Andrea couldn’t decipher—pain, disappointment, or perhaps both.
It was Aiden who shattered the fragile civility. He pushed back from the table with enough force to send his chair skidding and books crashing to the floor. His eyes burned with fury as he leveled her with a glare.
“You think choosing the ‘safe’ option will protect you?” he snarled, his voice a dangerous growl.
The library fell into silence, save for the echo of Aiden’s footsteps as he stormed out. Andrea’s pulse pounded in her ears, but she stood her ground, refusing to let the weight of their reactions crush her. Yet, deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just stepped onto a battlefield without understanding the stakes.
The changes came swiftly. Nathaniel began appearing in her classes, his visits disguised as casual observations in his role as student body president. His questions about her academic progress were polite, even encouraging, but there was a predatory edge to his gaze that made her feel constantly scrutinized.
The changes came swiftly, each Sinclair brother shifting their interactions with Andrea in ways that left her both unnerved and exposed. It was as if the moment she accepted Damien’s sponsorship, she’d been drawn deeper into their world—a place where every word, glance, and touch carried unspoken weight.
Nathaniel was the first to make his presence felt. He began appearing in her classes, always under the guise of his role as student body president. His visits seemed innocuous enough, punctuated by polite inquiries about her coursework or casual comments about the upcoming semester. But there was something in the way his dark eyes lingered on her, like a predator watching its prey.
“You’re excelling in mathematics,” he said one afternoon, his tone smooth yet unsettling as he reviewed her paper. “I’m impressed. Your diligence is… inspiring.”
Andrea forced a smile, her fingers tightening around her pen. “Thank you, Nathaniel.”
“Of course,” he replied, his voice low. “You’ve set quite the precedent. I imagine everyone will be watching to see if you can maintain it.” The words carried a quiet threat, cloaked in civility.
Liam’s encounters, once charming and almost playful, took on a darker edge. He seemed to appear everywhere: the hallways, the library, even outside her dorm, his timing too perfect to be coincidental. His compliments now felt like tests, his laughter laced with something sharper.
“That’s a lovely necklace,” he remarked one day, his fingers brushing lightly against the chain at her throat. Andrea froze, her heart pounding. His smile was warm, but his eyes glittered with something she couldn’t place. “I do hope you get to keep wearing it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Nothing, my Queen. Just… a thought.” Giving a quick kiss, just a light touch on her lips, he quickly left Andrea alone with conflicting emotions and unreal heat on her cheeks.
Gabriel, in stark contrast, withdrew entirely. His absence was palpable, his silence louder than any confrontation. Yet Andrea couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on her when he thought she wasn’t looking—gray and stormy, brimming with unspoken sorrow.
One evening, as she studied alone in the library, she caught him watching her from across the room. Their eyes met for a fleeting second before he turned away, disappearing into the shadows without a word.
“Gabriel,” she whispered to herself, the weight of his gaze lingering long after he was gone.
Aiden’s behavior, however, was anything but subtle. His rebellion against her decision turned volatile, his protectiveness and anger colliding in a way that left Andrea constantly on edge. He picked fights on her behalf, his punches calculated and brutal, leaving his opponents bloodied but alive. Yet in the same breath, he pushed her away with venomous words.
“I don’t need your protection,” Andrea snapped one day after watching him slam another student against a locker.
Aiden’s dark eyes burned with fury. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into!” he snarled. “I’m trying to help you, but you’re too damn stubborn to see it.”
“Save me from what?” she demanded, her voice rising. “You? Your family? The game overall?”
His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. For a moment, Andrea thought he might leave without answering. But instead, he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a raw whisper.
“All of it, Andrea. Every. Damn. Thing.”
Damien, by comparison, seemed unchanged. His logical demeanor remained steadfast, his sharp intellect as impenetrable as ever. He was calm, collected, always the voice of reason in a storm of chaos. Yet Andrea couldn’t shake the suspicion that his detachment was a mask, concealing secrets she was only beginning to glimpse.
During one of their study sessions, he caught her staring at him, her thoughts racing.
“Something on your mind, Andrea?” Damien asked, his tone cool as he turned a page in his book.
She hesitated, her instincts warning her to tread carefully. “I just… I don’t understand why you wanted to sponsor me.”
Damien looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. “Because logic dictates you’re worth protecting,” he said simply. “You’re a valuable piece on the board.”
Andrea’s chest tightened. “A piece? That’s all I am to you?”
“Not just a piece,” Damien corrected, his gaze unwavering. “The Queen. And the Queen’s survival is critical to the game.”
The words hung in the air, chilling in their precision. Andrea realized then that Damien might be the most dangerous of them all—not because of what he said, but because of what he didn’t.
Just a week after her choice, Andrea opened her locker to find a manila envelope. Inside were photographs, each showing a different student. She recognized Emma Lawrence’s face among them, along with others she’d heard whispered about in The Blackthorn’s halls. All scholarship students. All former protégés of the Sinclair brothers.
All vanished without a trace.
The photos were arranged in a neat timeline, ending with a recent picture of Andrea herself, taken through her dorm room window. On the back, someone had written a single word:
“Next one?”
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