Dmitri's POV
The night had been restless. Usually, my mind is a fortress of cold logic, but last night, the stone walls of my room felt like they were closing in. Every time I closed my eyes, I didn't see my father's disappointed face or the medical diagrams I needed to memorize. I saw a dead rat in a box. I saw silver eyes filled with a terrifying, silent grief. And I saw Julien Rousseau, acting like the savior of a girl he barely knew.
The next morning, the Boys' Hostel lobby was buzzing with the usual high-octane energy of St. Aurelia's elite. The smell of expensive espresso and leather briefcases filled the air. I was standing near the tall mahogany doors, adjusting my watch, when the "Golden Boy" appeared.
Julien was moving fast, his blazer unbuttoned, his face set in a mask of grim determination. He wasn't heading toward the dining hall or the classrooms. He was heading toward the North Exit. Toward the Girls' Hostel.
I didn't even have to think. I stepped into his path, my shadow falling across the polished marble floor.
He stopped so abruptly his heels clicked. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, snapped at mine with an immediate, defensive hardness.
"Again, Dmitri?" he asked, his voice low enough that the passing students didn't hear, though they certainly felt the temperature in the room drop. "I have places to be."
"I can see that," I replied, my voice a calm, dangerous drawl. I slipped my hands into my pockets, leaning back slightly. "Rushing off to play bodyguard again? It's barely seven in the morning, Julien. Don't you think the 'Knight in Shining Armor' act is getting a little exhausting?"
Julien's jaw tightened. "I'm going to make sure she gets to class without another 'gift' waiting for her. Unlike you, I actually care about what happens to people in this school."
"Care," I repeated, the word tasting like ash. "Is that what you call it? Coddling her isn't caring, Rousseau. It's making her a target. Every time you walk her to a door, you're just painting a larger bullseye on her back. Arabella doesn't hate her because she's an orphan. She hates her because you chose her."
Julien stepped closer, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Stay away from her, Dmitri. I mean it. Whatever you're doing, whatever psychological game you're playing to see how much she can take... stop. She's already going through enough."
"And that's my problem... how?" I asked. "If she's too weak to handle the reality of this place, perhaps she shouldn't be here."
"You saw her yesterday," Julien snapped, his eyes flashing with righteous fire. "You saw how shaken she was. You walked right past her while she was falling apart. You have more power in this school than the Director himself, and you use it to watch a girl drown."
I stilled. That dark, cold focus I'd felt the night before returned, sharper now. I stepped down to the same level he stood on, towering just slightly over him, and whispered: "I'm not her knight, Julien. I don't save people."
"No," Julien replied, his gaze not wavering. "But you're obsessed. And that's what scares you, isn't it?"
The word hit me like a physical blow. Obsessed. It was ridiculous. It was impossible. But the fact that my pulse spiked at the sound of it infuriated me.
"Choose your next words very carefully," I warned.
"You watch her," Julien said, ignoring the threat. "You follow her with your eyes. You listen when her name is whispered. And yesterday, the way you looked at her before she fled the lab... it wasn't hatred. I know you, Dmitri. We grew up in the same circles. That look was something else. Something that's starting to unravel you."
I let out a soft, cold laugh that held no mirth. "You think you can read me? You're out of your depth, Julien. Walk away before you say something you'll truly regret."
He glared at me, then shoved past, his shoulder brushing mine in an open challenge. He didn't turn back. I watched him storm out of the lobby, heading toward the girl who was currently the thorn in my side.
Unravel me? I scoffed internally. Ridiculous. I had more important things to worry about than a girl who played the violin as if her life depended on it.
Music Club (Late Afternoon)
The rumors about the "rat incident" had spread like wildfire. Everywhere I walked, her name floated through the air like a curse. It was distracting. It was infuriating. Why wouldn't her existence just stop bleeding into my day?
I found myself in the Music Wing later that afternoon. I told myself I was looking for Adrien. He had some sheet music I needed for a project, or some other lie I had manufactured to justify being there.
But as I passed the main rehearsal hall, the sound stopped me mid-step.
Music.
It was aching, fragile, and too beautiful for a place as cold as St. Aurelia. A violin. Her violin.
I moved to the small glass panel in the door. Isabelle was alone. She had her eyes closed, her red hair falling over her shoulder in a messy braid. She was playing a piece that sounded like a prayer, soft, trembling, and utterly devastating.
My heartbeat changed. Just a fraction. Just enough to be annoying. I leaned against the wall, my face a mask of indifference, but inside, I was listening to every note. She played with a ferocity that didn't match the "broken girl" I'd seen in the lab.
"Well," a voice whispered nearby. "So the rumor was true after all."
I didn't turn. I knew that voice. Emmeline Schuyler. "What rumor, Emmeline?" I asked, my voice like ice.
"That the little charity case has caught your attention," she said, stepping into my field of vision with a serpent-like smile. "I've been watching you, Dmitri. Every time she enters a room, your expression shifts. Every time Julien mentions her, your jaw tenses. It's almost poetic."
"You're imagining things," I said, though the lie felt heavy.
Emmeline leaned against the wall next to me, her eyes following my gaze through the glass. "She is a threat, Dmitri. To your control. To the version of yourself you've spent eighteen years building. She's already changing things, isn't she? You're starting to hesitate."
My silence was my only defense.
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. "If you don't eliminate her... she will unravel you. Just like Julien said. Girls like Isabelle Duval are dangerous because they make powerful boys feel pity. And pity is the first step toward ruin."
I took a slow, threatening step toward her. "Stay out of my head, Emmeline. If I want her gone, she'll be gone. I don't need your advice on how to handle a commoner."
She smirked, tapping a manicured nail against her chin. "Of course. But remember this, Dmitri: the music she's playing? It's not just a song. It's a challenge. And right now, she's winning."
She walked away, her heels clicking a rhythmic, mocking beat down the hall. I remained frozen. Isabelle's music floated through the door again, sobbing, soaring, and then ending on a high, sharp note that felt like a question.
The truth slammed into me. I was hesitating. I had the power to break her, but every time I saw those silver eyes, I found myself waiting to see what she would do next.
And for a Volkov, hesitation was the most dangerous sin of all.
Dmitri's POV
The night had been restless. Usually, my mind is a fortress of cold logic, but last night, the stone walls of my room felt like they were closing in. Every time I closed my eyes, I didn't see my father's disappointed face or the medical diagrams I needed to memorize. I saw a dead rat in a box. I saw silver eyes filled with a terrifying, silent grief. And I saw Julien Rousseau, acting like the savior of a girl he barely knew.
The next morning, the Boys' Hostel lobby was buzzing with the usual high-octane energy of St. Aurelia's elite. The smell of expensive espresso and leather briefcases filled the air. I was standing near the tall mahogany doors, adjusting my watch, when the "Golden Boy" appeared.
Julien was moving fast, his blazer unbuttoned, his face set in a mask of grim determination. He wasn't heading toward the dining hall or the classrooms. He was heading toward the North Exit. Toward the Girls' Hostel.
I didn't even have to think. I stepped into his path, my shadow falling across the polished marble floor.
He stopped so abruptly his heels clicked. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, snapped at mine with an immediate, defensive hardness.
"Again, Dmitri?" he asked, his voice low enough that the passing students didn't hear, though they certainly felt the temperature in the room drop. "I have places to be."
"I can see that," I replied, my voice a calm, dangerous drawl. I slipped my hands into my pockets, leaning back slightly. "Rushing off to play bodyguard again? It's barely seven in the morning, Julien. Don't you think the 'Knight in Shining Armor' act is getting a little exhausting?"
Julien's jaw tightened. "I'm going to make sure she gets to class without another 'gift' waiting for her. Unlike you, I actually care about what happens to people in this school."
"Care," I repeated, the word tasting like ash. "Is that what you call it? Coddling her isn't caring, Rousseau. It's making her a target. Every time you walk her to a door, you're just painting a larger bullseye on her back. Arabella doesn't hate her because she's an orphan. She hates her because you chose her."
Julien stepped closer, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Stay away from her, Dmitri. I mean it. Whatever you're doing, whatever psychological game you're playing to see how much she can take... stop. She's already going through enough."
"And that's my problem... how?" I asked. "If she's too weak to handle the reality of this place, perhaps she shouldn't be here."
"You saw her yesterday," Julien snapped, his eyes flashing with righteous fire. "You saw how shaken she was. You walked right past her while she was falling apart. You have more power in this school than the Director himself, and you use it to watch a girl drown."
I stilled. That dark, cold focus I'd felt the night before returned, sharper now. I stepped down to the same level he stood on, towering just slightly over him, and whispered: "I'm not her knight, Julien. I don't save people."
"No," Julien replied, his gaze not wavering. "But you're obsessed. And that's what scares you, isn't it?"
The word hit me like a physical blow. Obsessed. It was ridiculous. It was impossible. But the fact that my pulse spiked at the sound of it infuriated me.
"Choose your next words very carefully," I warned.
"You watch her," Julien said, ignoring the threat. "You follow her with your eyes. You listen when her name is whispered. And yesterday, the way you looked at her before she fled the lab... it wasn't hatred. I know you, Dmitri. We grew up in the same circles. That look was something else. Something that's starting to unravel you."
I let out a soft, cold laugh that held no mirth. "You think you can read me? You're out of your depth, Julien. Walk away before you say something you'll truly regret."
He glared at me, then shoved past, his shoulder brushing mine in an open challenge. He didn't turn back. I watched him storm out of the lobby, heading toward the girl who was currently the thorn in my side.
Unravel me? I scoffed internally. Ridiculous. I had more important things to worry about than a girl who played the violin as if her life depended on it.
Music Club (Late Afternoon)
The rumors about the "rat incident" had spread like wildfire. Everywhere I walked, her name floated through the air like a curse. It was distracting. It was infuriating. Why wouldn't her existence just stop bleeding into my day?
I found myself in the Music Wing later that afternoon. I told myself I was looking for Adrien. He had some sheet music I needed for a project, or some other lie I had manufactured to justify being there.
But as I passed the main rehearsal hall, the sound stopped me mid-step.
Music.
It was aching, fragile, and too beautiful for a place as cold as St. Aurelia. A violin. Her violin.
I moved to the small glass panel in the door. Isabelle was alone. She had her eyes closed, her red hair falling over her shoulder in a messy braid. She was playing a piece that sounded like a prayer, soft, trembling, and utterly devastating.
My heartbeat changed. Just a fraction. Just enough to be annoying. I leaned against the wall, my face a mask of indifference, but inside, I was listening to every note. She played with a ferocity that didn't match the "broken girl" I'd seen in the lab.
"Well," a voice whispered nearby. "So the rumor was true after all."
I didn't turn. I knew that voice. Emmeline Schuyler. "What rumor, Emmeline?" I asked, my voice like ice.
"That the little charity case has caught your attention," she said, stepping into my field of vision with a serpent-like smile. "I've been watching you, Dmitri. Every time she enters a room, your expression shifts. Every time Julien mentions her, your jaw tenses. It's almost poetic."
"You're imagining things," I said, though the lie felt heavy.
Emmeline leaned against the wall next to me, her eyes following my gaze through the glass. "She is a threat, Dmitri. To your control. To the version of yourself you've spent eighteen years building. She's already changing things, isn't she? You're starting to hesitate."
My silence was my only defense.
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. "If you don't eliminate her... she will unravel you. Just like Julien said. Girls like Isabelle Duval are dangerous because they make powerful boys feel pity. And pity is the first step toward ruin."
I took a slow, threatening step toward her. "Stay out of my head, Emmeline. If I want her gone, she'll be gone. I don't need your advice on how to handle a commoner."
She smirked, tapping a manicured nail against her chin. "Of course. But remember this, Dmitri: the music she's playing? It's not just a song. It's a challenge. And right now, she's winning."
She walked away, her heels clicking a rhythmic, mocking beat down the hall. I remained frozen. Isabelle's music floated through the door again, sobbing, soaring, and then ending on a high, sharp note that felt like a question.
The truth slammed into me. I was hesitating. I had the power to break her, but every time I saw those silver eyes, I found myself waiting to see what she would do next.
And for a Volkov, hesitation was the most dangerous sin of all.