Dmitri's POV
The night had been a disaster. I couldn't sleep. My mind was a mess. I couldn't get her face out of it. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw those silver eyes filled with grief so quiet it was terrifying. I saw her back as she ran out of the halls, broken by the cruelty this place had inflicted on her. And I saw Julien Rousseau playing self-appointed savior to a girl he barely knew.
The next morning, the Boys' Hostel lobby was buzzing with the usual energy. The smell of expensive espresso and leather briefcases filled the air. I was standing near the mahogany doors, checking my watch, when I saw him.
Julien was moving fast, his blazer unbuttoned, his face set in a mask of grim determination. He was heading for the North Exit. Toward the girls' Dormitory.
I stepped into his path.
He stopped so abruptly his heels clicked on the marble. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, went flat and hard.
"Again, Dmitri?" he asked, his voice low. "I'm in a hurry. I don't have time for this."
"I can see that," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. I slipped my hands into my pockets. "Rushing off to play bodyguard? It's barely seven. Don't you think the 'Knight' act is getting a little old?"
Julien's jaw tightened. "I'm going to make sure she gets to class without another box waiting for her. Unlike you, I actually care what happens to people here."
"Care," I repeated. The word tasted like ash. "Coddling her isn't caring, Julien. It's making her a target. Arabella doesn't hate her because she's an orphan. She hates her because you chose her. Every time you hold her hand in the hallway, you're just painting a bigger bullseye on her back."
Julien stepped closer, his voice dropping to an angry whisper. "Stay away from her. 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 because...?" I asked. "If she's too weak for this place, she shouldn't be here."
"You saw her yesterday," Julien snapped, his eyes flashing. "You saw her falling apart in the lab and you just walked right past. You have more power in this school than the Director and you're just standing there watching her drown."
I stilled. That cold, sharp focus from the night before returned. I stepped down to his level, leaning in until I was looming over him. "I don't save people, Julien."
"No," Julien replied, his gaze not wavering. "But you're obsessed. And that's what actually 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 made me want to hit something.
"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. You even went as far as taking pictures of her and breaking into her room. After she rejected your little "gift", you haven't been the same. It's unravelling you, Dmitri. You're not mad that she's here, you're mad that she isn't afraid of you."
I let out a soft, cold laugh. "You think you know me? You don't know the first thing about what I want, Julien. Walk away."
He glared at me, then shoved past, his shoulder slamming into mine. I watched him storm out, heading toward the girl who had become the thorn in my side.
Unravel me? Ridiculous.
Who does she think she is to unravel me?
The Music Wing (Late Afternoon)
The rat incident had spread like wildfire. Her name was everywhere now, curse or prayer, depending on who said it. It was distracting. It was infuriating. Why wouldn't she just stop bleeding into my day?
I found myself in the Music Wing later that afternoon. I told myself I was looking for Adrien, some basketball kit, some lie to justify being there. But as I passed the main hall, the sound stopped me.
It was a violin. Her violin.
I moved to the glass panel in the door. Isabelle was alone. Her eyes were closed, her red hair falling over her shoulder in a messy braid. She was playing something that sounded like a prayer, soft, beautiful and utterly devastating.
My heartbeat changed. Just a fraction. I leaned against the wall, masking my face in indifference, but I was listening to every note. She played with a ferocity that didn't match the "broken girl" from yesterday.
"So the rumor was true," a voice whispered nearby.
Emmeline Schuyler.
"What rumor, Emmeline?"
"That the commoner has your attention," she said, stepping into my line of sight with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I've been watching you. Every time she enters a room, you change. Every time Julien mentions her, your jaw tenses. It's almost poetic."
"You're imagining things," I said, though the lie felt heavy in my mouth.
Emmeline leaned against the wall next to me. "She's a threat, Dmitri. To your control. To the mask you've spent eighteen years carving. You're starting to hesitate."
I didn't answer.
"If you don't eliminate her," she hissed, "she will unravel you. Girls like that 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 nail against her chin. "Of course. But remember, Dmitri, that music? It's not just a song. It's a challenge. And right now? She's winning."
She walked away, her heels clicking a mocking beat down the hall. I stayed there, frozen. Isabelle's music floated through the door again, soaring, sobbing, 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, or maybe didn't know what move to make.
For a Volkov, hesitation was the only sin that mattered.
And for the first time, I wondered if the girl I was supposed to break might be the one breaking me.