My best friend Rosa found me at the annual university masquerade ball. “He’s here,” she whispered, eyes gleaming. “Tristan Pratt. By the fountain. Silver wolf mask.” I’d had a crush on that boy for three years.

She shoved a glass of bourbon into my hand, her eyes daring me to finally make my move.

I gathered my courage, slipped through the crush of bodies, and from behind, wrapped my arms around the toned waist of a man in a silver wolf mask. I pressed my cheek against his broad back.

My voice trembled, but I kept it clear. "Tristan, I think I'm... in love with you."

I felt his entire body go rigid.

He turned slowly, his movements unnervingly deliberate. He took off his mask, revealing a face infinitely more handsome—and infinitely more dangerous—than Tristan’s.

He backed me against the fountain’s cold stone sculpture, his predatory aura swallowing me whole. His deep eyes gleamed with a taunting amusement, and his voice was like honey laced with poison.

"You've found the wrong wolf, little lamb. But since you came to me, you're mine now."

He leaned in, his hot breath ghosting against my ear, sending a violent shiver down my spine.

"Say it again," he purred. "Say you love me. Or I'll make everyone here watch you cry and beg for me."

————————

1

My mind went completely blank.

The bourbon glass slipped from my fingers, shattering against the marble as amber liquid splashed across the floor.

I was trembling from head to toe, my teeth chattering so hard I thought they’d crack.

"No… that's not… I got the wrong person…"

My voice was a ragged whisper, barely audible even to my own ears.

But Sean just smiled—a chilling, predatory curve of his lips that held a dangerous interest.

He had me pinned, trapped between his body and the stone fountain, his hot breath fanning the side of my neck.

"Wrong person?"

"Then tell me," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "What's this 'Tristan' of yours look like?"

I didn't dare meet his eyes, my gaze fixed on the spreading puddle of liquor on the ground.

"He… he’s also wearing a silver wolf mask."

"Ha."

A cold, mocking laugh escaped his lips.

He reached out, his thumb and forefinger seizing my chin, forcing my head up until our eyes met.

"Then take a good look. Who am I?"

I was forced to stare into his gaze—eyes as deep as an abyss, swirling with a dangerous emotion I couldn't possibly name.

"Sean… Sean Callahan."

"Good girl. Remember that name."

He nodded, satisfied. Then, right in front of the gawking party guests, he bent and plucked the silk handkerchief embroidered with a "T" from my clutch.

"This is nice. I'm keeping it."

"No, you can't—"

Before I could finish my protest, I saw a figure approaching in the distance.

It was Tristan.

The real Tristan Pratt.

He wore an identical silver wolf mask, his frame lean and his stride elegant, carrying an effortless, aristocratic air.

His stride faltered the moment he saw me trapped in Sean’s arms.

In his eyes, usually so calm and distant, a flicker of something I’d never seen before ignited: sharp disappointment and a chilling judgment.

My heart felt like it had been pierced by a shard of ice.

Sean noticed my gaze.

He followed my line of sight, then deliberately, cruelly, pulled me tighter against his chest.

He shot Tristan a provocative smirk.

"What are you looking at?" he challenged, before adding, "She's mine now."

Tristan’s eyes lingered on my face for less than a second before he looked away, his expression indifferent, as if I were a stranger, a meaningless passerby.

He turned and melted back into the crowd.

As he disappeared, my world plunged into darkness.

The next day, I was the most talked-about girl on campus.

Not for my medical school grades, or for my looks.

It was because someone had spray-painted the Callahan family’s Ouroboros crest on my locker in bold, black paint, and the lock had been replaced with one of theirs.

I rushed to my locker, trying desperately to scrub the symbol away, but a crowd had already formed, their pointing fingers and whispers like a thousand tiny needles.

"Is that her? She looks so… plain. How did she get involved with a Callahan?"

"I heard she threw herself at him at the ball last night. Shameless."

"Total social climber, obviously."

Overnight, I became public enemy number one to every girl in school.

When I returned to my classroom, my medical notes were scattered on the floor, the covers trampled with muddy footprints.

When I went to the water fountain, someone "accidentally" bumped me, spilling scalding coffee all over my hand.

As I walked down the hall, a foot shot out, tripping me and sending me sprawling.

I found Sean and demanded he put a stop to it.

He was in his private boxing gym, shirtless, sweat glistening on his sculpted muscles.

He saw me, stopped his workout, and tossed his gloves to the side.

"Well, well. Look who's here to claim her prize."

I stood there, eyes red-rimmed, and slammed my ruined notes onto the bench in front of him.

"Sean Callahan, what the hell do you want? Call them off! There is nothing between us!"

The smirk on his face slowly vanished.

He stalked me into a corner of the boxing ring, his tall frame casting me completely in shadow.

He braced his hands on the ropes on either side of me, his voice a low rumble. "You started this. Now you face the consequences."

"I didn't start anything!"

"Yes, you did."

He stared at me, his gaze unblinking. "The moment you wrapped your arms around my waist, you sealed your fate."

I closed my eyes in despair.

At lunch, I had just walked into the campus's most upscale restaurant when Sean’s hand clamped around my wrist.

Under the scrutinizing gaze of the entire room, he dragged me to his exclusive booth—the one no one else dared approach.

He slid the plate of tiramisu from his side of the table over to mine.

"Eat."

It was a command, not a suggestion.

I had zero appetite, and I sure as hell didn't want to eat anything he gave me.

I reached out to push the plate back, but he scooped up a mouthful of the dessert with a silver spoon and held it to my lips.

"Open your mouth."

His voice was quiet, but it held an undeniable, non-negotiable authority.

The chatter in the restaurant died.

Every eye was on us.

I squirmed, my face burning with humiliation.

"Sean, please, don't do this…"

My eyes darted around, looking for an escape—and they landed on Tristan Pratt, standing not far away, his own gaze as cold as ice.

He was holding a cup of coffee, just standing there, watching.

Watching me like I was part of some tacky drama that had nothing to do with him.

...

Tristan's gaze was an icicle, piercing through my last line of defense.

I shoved Sean’s hand away and shot to my feet.

"I'm not hungry."

I fled the restaurant, my cheeks burning with shame.

After that, the school's queen bee—Sean's number one fangirl, Sienna Croft—and her minions cornered me in the gym locker room.

She was decked out in designer clothes, her makeup perfect, but her eyes were pure venom.

Smack!

A stinging slap cracked across my face.

My cheek immediately flared with a hot, throbbing pain.

"Aria Rothwell, have you no shame?"

Sienna jabbed a perfectly manicured finger toward my face.

"Look in the mirror. What makes you think you have any right to seduce Sean?"

Her friends closed in, shoving me roughly.

"Exactly. A nobody doctor's daughter trying to marry into the Callahan family?"

"Stay away from Sean Callahan, or we'll make you regret it!"

They shoved my head into a sink full of cold water. I struggled, sputtering, lifting my head to see their mocking faces, a mix of terror and fury choking me.

"I didn't seduce him—it was him—"

"Him what? He forced you?" Sienna let out a theatrical laugh. "Get over yourself! You really think Sean would waste his time on a plain Jane like you?"

Just then, the locker room door was kicked open with a deafening bang.

Sean stood in the doorway, drenched in post-workout sweat. The moment his eyes landed on my pathetic, dripping form by the sink, his face twisted into a mask of pure savagery.

"What the hell are you doing?"

His roar made every girl in the room go pale.

He stormed in, violently shoving the girl closest to me so hard she crashed into a row of lockers.

The scene devolved into chaos.

He grabbed Sienna by the hair and slammed her head against a metal locker door.

"Who gave you permission to touch my woman?!"

His eyes were bloodshot—a rabid beast that had lost all control.

Sienna shrieked in pain and terror.

His brutality was terrifying. This wasn’t protection. It was savagery.

I scrambled to my feet and grabbed his arm.

"Sean, stop! You'll kill her!"

He threw my hand off with a furious snarl.

"Stay out of this! No one is stopping me today!"

Looking at the murderous intent in his wild eyes, a wave of pure, undiluted terror washed over me.

I screamed for him to stop one last time, then bolted out the door and ran without looking back.

I couldn't take it anymore.

My life—my quiet, normal life—had been systematically destroyed by this madman.

I ended up at the botanical garden pond, hugging my knees to my chest, crying until my throat was raw and my head ached.

I don't know how long I sat there, but eventually, a clean silk handkerchief appeared in front of my face.

I looked up through blurry, tear-filled eyes to see Tristan.

He was just as I always remembered him—calm, composed, a quiet, steady presence beside me.

His voice was soft, but it carried a weight that could soothe the storm inside me.

"Stay away from him."

That was all he said.

"He's from the darkness, Aria. He'll only drag you down with him."

I took the handkerchief, wiping my eyes messily, unable to form a single word.

He stood with me in silence for a moment longer before turning and walking away.

The next day, a bruised and battered Sienna came to apologize to me.

The fear in her eyes when she looked at me was palpable.

I found out later that Tristan had sent an audio recording of the bullying incident directly to the school administration.

The Pratt family had also made a single phone call—overnight, Sienna's father's company was facing a massive tax audit and bankruptcy liquidation.

Sienna received a formal disciplinary warning and was nearly expelled.

I was stunned.

I had no idea Tristan wielded that kind of power.

After school, a haggard-looking Sean found me again.

He looked drained, with dark circles under his eyes. When he saw me, a flicker of guilt crossed his face.

"About yesterday… I'm sorry. I scared you."

I just looked through him and turned to leave.

Just then, Tristan emerged from the main academic building. He saw me. He saw Sean standing beside me. And he started walking toward us.

At the sight of Tristan, Sean tensed up like a territorial animal.

He yanked me behind him, his eyes burning with a possessive, jealous fire.

"What do you want?!"

Tristan didn't even spare him a glance. His gaze landed on my cheek, which was still slightly swollen.

Then, he spoke to Sean, his voice calm and cutting. "Violence is the mark of the incompetent."

Enraged, Sean swung his fist. "Say that again!"

Tristan didn't move, didn't even flinch. His tone remained flat, yet it carried an authority that was absolute.

"If this is your idea of 'protection,' you'll only ever make her fear you."

Sean's fist froze in mid-air.

The quiet, effortless power that radiated from Tristan was something a street brawler like Sean could never comprehend, let alone match.

Watching Tristan's slender but unyielding back as he walked away, I realized for the first time that the boy I'd admired from afar held secrets far deeper and darker than I could ever have imagined.

...

The university-organized weekend retreat at the lake was supposed to be a relaxing end-of-semester break.

I thought, naively, that it would be my chance to finally get some distance from Sean.

I was so wrong.

On the bus to the lakeside resort, Sean ignored the seating chart and plopped himself down next to me.

He stuck to me like glue, his glare warding off any male student who dared to come within a three-foot radius.

When a friendly classmate from another department came over to chat, Sean dismissed him with a guttural "Get lost."

I'd had enough.

"Sean, can you please stop being so childish?"

He pulled out one earbud, leaning back in his seat with infuriating laziness. "Nope."

"I'm helping you," he added with a smirk. "Filtering out the flies."

I was too furious to even speak.

After we arrived and checked into our rooms, free time was announced. Rosa slipped me a folded note.

Aria—boathouse on the pier. Tristan. It’s now or never. Don’t have regrets!

I clutched the paper, my palm instantly sweating.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

Go, or don't go?

If I went, Sean would find out and all hell would break loose.

But if I didn't go, I might never have a real chance to talk to Tristan again.

In the end, my heart made the decision for me.