Isabelle's POV
"Julien," I whispered, the name catching in my throat. My voice sounded breathless, even to me, caught in the narrow space between sharp relief and a new, freezing kind of dread.
The hallway, already cold from the stone walls, seemed to drop several degrees. I stood between them, Dmitri, still radiating the heat of his basketball practice, and Julien, who looked like a statue of marble, pale and unyielding.
Dmitri didn't even glance at me. His focus was locked on Julien with a terrifying intensity. It was a look of pure, predatory challenge. In that moment, I realized with a sinking heart that this was no longer about me, or the music, or the broken bow. This was a war for territory. I was just the ground they were standing on.
"I was just telling Isabelle," Dmitri said, his voice dripping with a lethal, calm derision that made my skin crawl, "that she should choose her company more carefully. Some people are just… distractions."
Julien didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, placing himself firmly beside me. He didn't touch me, Julien was always too respectful for that but his presence felt like a shield.
"I think Isabelle is more than capable of deciding who is a distraction, Dmitri," Julien countered, his voice steady but laced with an edge I had never heard before. "And right now? It looks like you're the only one wasting her time."
Dmitri's reaction was a low, dark chuckle that didn't sound like a laugh at all. He stepped closer, invading our space, forcing me to take a half-step back.
"Is that so, Rousseau?" Dmitri's voice dropped an octave, turning into a dangerous purr. "You think being a 'friend' gives you a seat at this table? You're a footnote in her story. I'm the plot."
"You're a bully with a trust fund," Julien snapped, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "And the more you push, the more she'll realize how pathetic this obsession is. You can't force someone to look at you, Dmitri. No matter how much you break them."
I saw the "devil" flash in Dmitri's eyes, a spark of raw, unfiltered jealousy that was so physical I could almost feel it vibrating in the air. He looked at Julien not as a classmate, but as something he wanted to tear apart.
"If you're so confident in your standing, Julien, why don't we settle it where everyone can see?" Dmitri gestured broadly toward the open archway leading to the main quad, where the weekend social was already in full swing. The sound of music and laughter drifted in, oblivious to the storm brewing in the corridor. "Or are you only brave when the hallways are empty?"
Julien's jaw set. "I have nothing to prove to you, Dmitri."
Dmitri leaned in, his face inches from Julien's. I saw his lips move, a whisper intended only for his rival, though I caught the jagged edge of it. "But you have everything to lose to me."
The walk to the quad was the longest of my life.
I felt like I was being marched to a gallows. Dmitri led the way, his stride arrogant and effortless, his black hoodie casting a shadow over the sunlit stones. Julien walked beside me, his usual "Golden Boy" serenity replaced by a rigid, defensive posture. He didn't look at me, and that scared me more than Dmitri's threats. It was as if he were preparing for a blow he knew was coming.
As we emerged into the sunlight of the fountain square, the atmosphere changed instantly. St. Aurelia was a place where gossip traveled faster than light. Within seconds, the students lounging on the grass and leaning over the stone balconies went silent.
"Look," I heard a girl whisper from the balcony above. "The Prince and the Saint. They're actually going to do it.
Dmitri stopped in the very center of the plaza, the most public stage the Academy had to offer. He turned to face Julien, a triumphant, cruel light in his eyes. He didn't look like a student; he looked like a king about to execute a traitor.
"You've always talked about 'balance' and 'merit,' haven't you, Julien?" Dmitri said, his voice projecting across the square, ensuring every student, every lingering faculty member, and every whispering heir could hear him. "But let's be honest. You're only the 'perfect student' because your father pays for the silence of the board. You're a manufactured saint."
Julien's face went deathly pale. "That's enough, Dmitri. This has nothing to do with them."
"Is it?" Dmitri stepped forward, his voice rising, commanding the space. "Tell them about the Geneva masterclass, Julien. Tell them how much your family 'donated' to the conservatory to buy your way into that seat. The one you told everyone you 'earned' through practice."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. I looked at Julien, my heart sinking into my stomach. "Julien? What is he talking about?"
Julien's eyes darted to mine, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of shame in them. "Isabelle, it's… it's complicated. It's how things work here."
"Oh, it gets better," Dmitri sneered, looking directly at me, his eyes burning with a dark victory. "Tell Isabelle how you 'helped' her with her registration for the Winter Exhibition. Tell her how you used your father's influence to bypass the faculty board because you didn't trust her talent to win on its own. You played the same game I do, Julien. You're just better at lying to her about it."
The world felt like it was tilting on its axis. I looked at Julien, the boy who had been my only anchor in this sea of sharks. "You did that? You bought my way in?"
"I just wanted to make sure they couldn't sabotage you again!" Julien said, his voice desperate now. "I wanted to protect you!"
"By lying to me?" I whispered. "By making me a charity case for the Rousseau family instead of the Volkovs?"
Dmitri didn't let up. He was a shark who had smelled blood. He turned to the crowd, addressing the seniors who were watching with rapt, cruel attention. "And as for his 'perfect' record? Ask him about the incident in the lower school. The one that disappeared from the disciplinary files after a very large 'contribution' to the new library wing."
The humiliation was total. Julien stood in the center of the square, stripped of his "Golden Boy" armor, looking smaller and more broken than I had ever seen him. The whispers were no longer about me; they were a dull, roar of judgment aimed at the school's favorite son. The "Saint" had been exposed as just another product of privilege and shadow-deals.
Dmitri stepped toward me, his presence overwhelming. He leaned down, his voice a low, possessive murmur that only I could hear.
"See, Isabelle? Even the angels in this place have dirty hands. At least with a devil, you know what you're getting. I don't pretend to be your savior. I just want you."
I looked at Julien's devastated face, then back at Dmitri's triumphant, lethal smirk. I felt a surge of nausea. I wasn't a person to them; I was a trophy. I was a tool they used to hurt each other.
The crowd began to laugh…low, mocking chuckles directed at Julien. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand the sight of the boy I trusted being destroyed, or the sight of the boy I feared enjoying it so much.
Without a word, I turned and ran. I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the hands that tried to stop me and the voices calling my name. I ran until the sound of the fountain faded, until the laughter was a distant echo, and until the weight of St. Aurelia's secrets felt like it was going to crush the breath right out of my lungs.
I reached the music rooms and locked the door behind me, sinking to the floor. I didn't cry. I just sat in the dark, clutching my violin case, realizing that in this school, there were no heroes.
There were only different shades of monsters.
And Dmitri Volkov had just made sure I was left alone in the dark with him.
Dmitri's POV
I watched her run.
The way her red hair trailed behind her like a streak of fire against the grey stone of the Academy was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I felt the "devil" in my chest purr with satisfaction.
Julien was still standing there, his head bowed, the crowd beginning to disperse now that the "blood" had been drawn. He looked pathetic. He looked like the weakling I always knew he was beneath the tailored blazers and the polite smiles.
Adrien stepped up beside me, his face a mask of disappointment. "You went too far, Dmitri."
"I did what was necessary," I said, not taking my eyes off the direction Isabelle had fled.
"You didn't just hurt Julien," Adrien whispered. "You destroyed the only thing she had left to trust. You think she's going to run to you now? You think this makes her yours?"
I turned to Adrien, my expression cold and unyielding. "She doesn't have anyone else now. Julien is a liar. The school is a cage. I'm the only one left who is honest about what I am."
"You're a monster," Adrien said, his voice flat.
"Maybe," I admitted, a small, dangerous smile touching my lips as I started to walk toward the music rooms. "But I'm the monster she's going to have to deal with."
The obsession hadn't just begun. It had taken its first kill. And as I walked through the quiet hallways, I knew that the "Saint" would never stand in my way again.
Isabelle Duval was alone. And that was exactly where I wanted her.