The night burned.

Not with fire alone—but with screams, gunshots, and something darker pouring through the cracks of the world.

I didn’t know how I got into Blackwood Hall.

I only knew I was running.

Barefoot.

Bleeding.

My lungs felt like they were shredding apart with every breath as I tore through shattered corridors. Smoke blinded me. Alarms wailed like dying animals. Somewhere far behind me—men were screaming.

Not in fear.

In agony.

“Damon!” I screamed into the chaos. “Damon, where are you?!”

No answer.

Only the sound of glass exploding and something heavy slamming into walls.

The moon outside the broken windows was red.

Not a reflection.

Not light.

Red like a wound that refused to close.

I skidded into the grand hall—and finally saw him.

He was on his knees in the center of the marble floor.

Blood streaked down his face.

His black suit was torn, soaked, ruined.

And around him…

People were lying unnaturally still.

Not sleeping.

Not breathing.

Dead silence pressed against my ears so hard I couldn’t hear my own heartbeat.

I stumbled toward him.

“Damon…” My voice broke as I dropped beside him, grabbing his shoulders.

His head lifted slowly.

For the first time since I’d known him…

There was no control in his eyes.

Only pain.

And something worse.

Fear.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered hoarsely.

A distant roar shook the walls.

The lights above us flickered violently.

Shadows detached from the ceiling like liquid and slid across the floor toward us.

No shape.

No form.

Just hunger.

“I was looking for you!” I cried. “Everyone is running—there’s something in this place—”

“I know,” he whispered.

The shadows surged closer.

The temperature dropped suddenly, my breath fogging in front of me.

Then—footsteps echoed.

Slow.

Measured.

Coming from every direction.

Figures emerged from the smoke and darkness, surrounding the hall in a tightening circle. Their faces were hidden. Their weapons were not.

One of them stepped forward.

“You’re late, Damon Blackwood,” the distorted voice said. “The ritual is already awake.”

My heart slammed violently.

“Ritual?” I whispered.

Damon’s hand tightened around mine suddenly.

Hard.

Protective.

Desperate.

“Don’t say anything,” he murmured. “No matter what they promise you. No matter what they threaten you with.”

A sharp crack echoed.

Something exploded against one of the pillars.

Stone shattered.

The shadows screamed.

And then—

I saw her.

Dragged forward between two of the hooded figures.

Struggling.

Crying.

My throat closed when our eyes met.

“ You why are you here …?”

Her face was pale with terror. “Aanya, I swear I didn’t know! I swear I tried to—”

A hand clamped over her mouth.

The figure forced her down to her knees near the bloodstained floor.

“You brought the girl exactly where she was needed,” the voice said.

My blood froze.

Damon surged forward violently, but invisible force slammed him back to the ground like a god’s hand pressing him down.

He groaned in pain.

I screamed his name.

One of the figures turned toward me.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

“And now,” the voice said softly, “we complete what was never meant to be broken.”

The shadows rose higher.

The floor beneath us vibrated.

The red moon outside darkened.

Something ancient moved beneath the hall.

“My fault…” I whispered in horror.

Damon dragged himself forward, leaving a dark trail behind him.

“No,” he growled through blood. “This is not on you—”

A circle of symbols ignited beneath his knees.

Flames erupted.

Black.

Silent.

Hungry.

He screamed.

Not in pain.

In fury.

I tried to run to him—

Invisible force hurled me backward into a marble pillar.

The impact knocked the breath from my lungs.

I slid down the wall, gasping.

My vision blurred as footsteps approached.

The hooded figure loomed over me.

“You have two choices,” the voice said calmly.

“One saves him.”

“The other saves her.”

I looked desperately between Damon and Rhea.

Both trapped.

Both bleeding.

Both calling my name with their eyes.

“There is no third option,” the figure said.

My entire body trembled.

“What do you want from me?” I whispered.

The shadows leaned closer.

Listening.

Waiting.

The voice lowered.

“We want what already belongs to you.”

The world tilted.

The red moon outside split with thunder.

The flames surged higher.

Damon screamed my name—

And everything went white with pain.

--

Monsters don’t always hide in the dark.

Sometimes… they sit beside you in class.

I learned that the moment I stepped through the gates of Blackwood Elite College.

The sky was clear. Students laughed. Couples walked hand in hand. Everything looked normal.

Too normal.

My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag as the familiar pressure crawled up my spine.

The shadows were restless today.

They slid along the ground like living smoke, stretching beyond the feet of students who had no idea they were being followed by things that should not exist. Whispers curled in the air—soft, broken voices calling my name.

Aanya…

I turned my face away.

Ignore them. Always ignore them.

I had learned that lesson at thirteen, the night I first saw a shadow peel itself off my bedroom wall and bend toward me with horns made of darkness.

Since then, they never left me.

Today, however, they were different.

Afraid.

The moment I crossed the gate, every shadow on campus stilled.

The whispers died.

Even the air felt… alert.

The sound of an engine rolled through the silent courtyard.

Slow.

Heavy.

Powerful.

Students turned.

So did I.

A black car glided through the main path like a predator through tall grass. Polished. Untouchable. The kind of car that never stopped at traffic lights because the world moved for it.

The doors opened.

And the temperature dropped.

He stepped out.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

Dressed in a black suit that swallowed the sunlight.

His presence hit me like gravity—slow, crushing, inescapable.

Every instinct in my body screamed danger.

Students whispered his name like they were afraid to speak it too loudly.

“Damon…”

“Blackwood…”

“That’s him…”

I didn’t know that name yet.

But the shadows did.

Every shadow on the ground bent—subtle, almost invisible—but I saw it.

They bowed to him.

My heart stumbled.

Because monsters don’t bow to humans.

And for the first time in my life…

The things that hunted me were scared of someone else.

His gaze lifted.

And locked onto me.

It felt like something cold slid beneath my skin.

Not desire.

Not attraction.

Possession.

I couldn’t breathe.

And he smiled.

Just once.

Then he turned and walked toward the main building like the campus already belonged to him.

Deep down, a terrible truth whispered inside me:

He doesn’t know me yet.

But he will.

The classroom buzzed with noise—laughing, chairs scraping, gossip buzzing like insects.

I sat near the window, as far from attention as possible.

Rhea leaned close. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I have,” I whispered. “And worse.”

Before she could ask, the door opened.

The room fell silent like someone had stolen the sound.

Damon Blackwood stepped inside.

The professor froze mid-sentence.

Even teachers feared him.

His gaze moved lazily across the room.

Girls straightened. Boys stiffened.

And then…

His eyes stopped.

On me.

The air thickened.

My pulse crashed so loudly in my ears I was sure he could hear it.

“Mr. Blackwood,” the professor said nervously, “you may take any seat.”

Any seat.

He walked.

Past broken conversations.

Past nervous laughter.

Straight toward me.

Every step felt deliberate.

Controlled.

Predatory.

He pulled the chair beside mine and sat.

Too close.

His arm brushed my sleeve.

Fire raced up my skin.

Not warmth.

Awareness.

I shifted slightly away.

Slowly, he leaned in.

So close I could smell him—smoke, leather, something dark and wild beneath it.

“You see them,” he murmured softly.

My breath caught.

“They follow you,” he continued. “The shadows.”

My blood turned to ice.

I stared ahead, pretending I hadn’t heard.

His voice dropped lower—dangerously intimate.

“You’re already in my world, little shadow girl,” he whispered.

“You just don’t know it yet.”

The bell rang.

I jumped like a gun had fired.

He leaned back in his chair, watching me shake.

And he smiled like he had all the time in the world.

By lunch, the entire campus buzzed with his arrival.

Rhea pulled me toward the cafeteria. “Stay away from him, Aanya.”

“Why?” I asked.

She swallowed. “The Blackwoods run everything—mafia, weapons, bodies that disappear. People like him don’t love. They own.”

I thought of his voice in my ear.

You’re in my world.

Something cold slid through my veins.

That evening, I tried to avoid him.

I took the shortcut behind the old library—the path everyone warned freshmen about.

The shadows were loud here.

Too loud.

A hand grabbed my arm.

I screamed.

Another hand clamped over my mouth.

Three men.

One knife.

Panic exploded in my chest.

Then—

A blur of black.

A body slammed into the first attacker with brutal force.

The sound of bone breaking echoed down the alley.

Blood sprayed the brick wall.

The second man barely had time to turn before his throat was crushed.

The third ran.

He didn’t make it three steps.

Damon stood among the bodies, breathing steady.

Not rushed.

Not shaken.

Like this was normal.

He turned to me.

Walked closer.

His hand lifted to my cheek, gentle enough to terrify me.

“You’re shaking,” he said quietly.

Then his fingers suddenly crushed around my wrist.

Pain shot up my arm.

His voice dropped into something dangerous.

“Don’t ever walk alone again.”

His grip tightened.

“You belong to my territory now.”

That night, I dreamed of fire.

Of chains.

Of red eyes watching me from the dark.

I woke with a scream tearing from my throat.

A burning mark glowed on my wrist.

The exact place Damon had held me.

At college the next day, whispers spread fast.

“Those men were found dead.”

“Mangled.”

“Not humanly possible.”

I found Damon on the rooftop.

Wind pulled at his coat.

I didn’t realize I had walked toward him until I was already standing close.

“Did you kill them?” I asked.

He turned slowly.

Stepped into my space.

So close my back touched the railing.

“They touched what was mine,” he said.

A pause.

“Of course I killed them.”

Fear twisted inside me.

But I didn’t run.

His eyes flickered.

For just one second—

They glowed red.

Not human.

Not at all.

And I understood.

I hadn’t met a mafia king.

I had met a monster with a crown.

I told myself to avoid him.

That lasted exactly twelve hours.

By the next morning, my entire body felt like it was moving through invisible wires—every nerve tight, every breath shallow. The mark on my wrist hadn’t faded. If anything, it looked darker. Like it had sunk into my skin instead of resting on it.

I covered it with my sleeve.

As if that could hide what he already owned.

The classroom was loud when I entered. Too loud. Like everyone was pretending nothing had changed.

But I felt it.

The tension.

The anticipation.

And then the room went silent.

Damon walked in late.

Of course he did.

He didn’t rush. Didn’t care that the lecture had already started. He moved like time waited for him to catch up—long strides, slow confidence, black coat brushing against his legs like it was alive.

The professor stopped speaking.

Again.

“Mr. Blackwood,” he said carefully.

Damon didn’t answer.

His eyes were on me.

I felt it immediately—like invisible hands wrapping around my ribs. I kept my gaze on my notebook, but I could feel him. Watching. Measuring. Claiming.

The chair beside me moved.

He sat.

Close.

Too close.

My pulse jumped.

“You didn’t thank me,” he said quietly.

I swallowed. “For what?”

“For not letting them tear you apart.”

My fingers trembled slightly as I wrote nonsense words across the page.

“Was that supposed to make me grateful?” I asked.

A soft breath of amusement brushed my ear.

“It’s supposed to make you honest.”

I risked a glance at him.

Big mistake.

His face was calm. Too calm. But his eyes… his eyes pinned me in place. Dark. Heavy. Hungry in a way that had nothing to do with bodies and everything to do with control.

“You’re afraid of me,” he said.

“That’s not hard to achieve,” I replied.

Slowly, his hand slid across the desk.

Didn’t touch me.

Stopped just an inch from my fingers.

“But you didn’t run,” he murmured.

“I find that interesting.”

The bell rang.

Too late.

---

I tried to escape him between classes.

Tried is the important word.

Every hallway turn, he was there.

Not chasing.

Not threatening.

Just… present.

Like a shadow that chose to belong only to me.

By the third time I felt his presence behind me, I snapped.

“Are you following me?” I turned sharply.

“Yes.”

No hesitation.

No shame.

Students nearby pretended not to listen, but they were frozen in place, feeding on the tension like it was air.

“Why?” I demanded.

Damon stepped closer.

One step.

That was all it took to force me against the lockers.

Not touching.

Just trapping.

“Because something follows you,” he said quietly.

“And I don’t share.”

Cold slid through me.

“You don’t own me,” I whispered.

He smiled.

Not kindly.

“Not yet.”

---

By lunch, the entire cafeteria buzzed with our argument. I sat with Rhea, barely tasting my food.

“He’s obsessed with you,” she whispered.

“No,” I said. “He’s dangerous.”

“It’s the same thing with men like him.”

Something twisted in my chest.

Across the room, Damon sat surrounded by people who looked terrified to laugh too loudly. Girls stared openly. Guys measured him carefully.

He didn’t look at any of them.

Only at me.

Every time our eyes met, it felt like pressure built inside my ribs. As if the air was thinning between us.

Rhea leaned closer. “If he touches you again, I swear I’ll—”

She stopped talking.

Because Damon stood.

And started walking toward our table.

My heart slammed violently.

Rhea went pale.

He didn’t acknowledge her.

Only me.

He placed his hands on the table on either side of my tray.

Caged me in.

“Eat properly,” he said. “You’re weak today.”

Embarrassment burned through me. “I’m not your responsibility.”

His eyes dropped to my wrist.

“To me,” he said calmly, “you are.”

Rhea stood abruptly. “You can’t just talk to her like that!”

Damon finally looked at her.

The room went cold.

Rhea’s spine stiffened.

Then—

“Go,” Damon said softly.

She didn’t argue.

She left.

And I was alone with him.

“You isolate people quickly,” I told him.

“Only the ones who interfere.”

His fingers brushed my tray. “Finish your food. After class, you’re coming with me.”

My breath caught. “That’s not a choice, is it?”

His gaze darkened.

“No.”

---

After the last lecture, I found two Blackwood men waiting outside my classroom.

Armed.

Silent.

Prepared.

Panic rippled through me.

“I said no,” I told Damon as he approached.

“You don’t get to refuse me,” he answered.

I tried to step back.

One of the men blocked my path.

Damon stopped inches in front of me.

His voice dropped to something low and unsettling.

“You attract things that would tear this campus apart if I wasn’t here.”

“Then let them,” I whispered.

For the first time…

His expression cracked.

“You don’t understand what that would cost you.”

The air around us shifted.

The shadows at the walls began to move.

Students screamed as the lights flickered violently.

Damon didn’t look away from me.

Instead, his eyes burned red again.

And the shadows froze.

Everyone ran.

Everyone except me.

My body wouldn’t move.

He grabbed my wrist.

Not violently.

Firm.

Protective.

Possessive.

“Now,” he said, “you’re coming.”

---

He took me to the underground level beneath the campus.

Not a basement.

A fortress.

Black walls. Iron doors. Men with weapons. Surveillance screens glowing like watchful eyes.

“This place shouldn’t exist,” I breathed.

“It exists because monsters do,” he replied.

He stopped in front of a locked chamber.

Turned to me.

Pressed my hand flat against his chest.

His heart beat slow.

Strong.

Inhumanly steady.

“Tell me what follows you,” he said.

I shook. “If I do… you’ll never leave me alone.”

His gaze softened dangerously.

“I already won’t.”

Tears burned my eyes. “They’ve been with me since I was thirteen. They whisper. They watch. They wait.”

“For what?”

“For you,” I whispered without meaning to.

Silence fell between us.

Heavy.

Electric.

Then his hand cupped my cheek.

Not rough.

Not gentle.

Claiming.

“Then the very things that hunted you were leading you to me.”

My breath stuttered.

“Why?” I asked.

His forehead touched mine.

So close our breaths tangled.

“Because I am the only thing in this world they fear.”

---

When he finally let me go, my legs trembled.

He walked me back to the surface himself.

No guards.

No weapons.

Just the two of us.

Before I left, he spoke again.

“You will come to the party tomorrow night.”

“I’m not agreeing,” I said.

“You don’t need to,” he replied.

“I’ve already set aside the dress.”

---

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

Because every time I closed my eyes…

I felt his hand on my face.

And the terrifying truth that settled into me was this:

I wasn’t only afraid of Damon Blackwood.

I was afraid of how badly a part of me didn’t want him to let go.

---