Azrael's POV
*****
8:00 pm, Male dormitory building
He stood on his balcony, a glass of wine in his right hand and his left placed on the railing.
His fingers tapped the cool metallic surface in slow, rhythmic beats as his mind skimmed through all that happened today.
Lysandra and her little puppets had exhausted the last of his already waning patience. He'd warned them at the Moonwood Pavilion restaurant—yet something told him they won't listen.
Sometimes flies needed more than a few hand swats to get rid of.
Taking a sip from the wine, his eyes wandered to the academy below. He thought he caught Celeste's scent in the air some minutes back.
Was she back from her meeting with the Dean?
"Thorne," he smacked his lips, lowering the glass. "What are you hiding from the rest of us? And what does Celeste have to do with it?"
At this point, he could confidently say he didn't trust that man. There were just too many things happening and pointing to foul play.
