SIENNA
By the time I reach my dorm, everyone already knows.
I don't know how.
I don't know who started it.
But when I walk into the common area, conversations dip just slightly.
Not obvious enough to call out.
Just noticeable enough to feel.
Two girls by the window stop talking when I pass.
One of them smiles.
Too sweet.
"Bold move in Ethics today," she says.
I shrug. "It was a discussion."
"It was Rowan Kingsley," the other corrects gently. "Not a discussion."
Ah.
So that's how this place works.
Not ideas.
Hierarchy.
I swipe my keycard and head upstairs without responding.
Inside my dorm room, I close the door and lean back against it for a second.
Okay.
So maybe I poked the wrong empire.
Doesn't matter.
I didn't say anything wrong.
I won't apologize for being right.
My phone buzzes.
Unknown number.
I hesitate, then open the message.
Unknown:Careful who you embarrass.
My stomach tightens.
Another message follows.
Unknown:You're not untouchable.
I stare at the screen.
Cowards.
If this is how the elite handle disagreement, they're weaker than I thought.
There's a knock at my door.
Three sharp taps.
I open it halfway.
Carter.
I recognize him from earlier.
Blond. Polished. Smug.
"Yes?"
He leans casually against the doorframe like he owns that too.
"You've had a busy first day."
"I've had classes."
He smiles faintly. "You don't understand how this works yet."
There it is again.
Hierarchy.
"What exactly is 'this'?" I ask.
He studies me like I'm a math problem.
"Rowan doesn't lose face publicly."
"I didn't attack him."
"You challenged him."
"So?"
A flicker of irritation crosses his expression.
"So people watch what he tolerates."
"And?"
"And right now they're watching you."
Silence stretches between us.
I hold his stare.
He exhales lightly, straightening.
"Just… maybe choose your battles more carefully."
I don't answer.
He leaves.
I close the door slowly.
So this isn't about ego.
It's about example.
If Rowan lets me stand unpunished, it shifts something.
Interesting.
My phone buzzes again.
This time it's from the official Blackthorn student portal.
Subject line:Business Strategy Group Assignments Posted
That was fast.
I open the attachment.
My name sits beside three others.
And at the top:
Rowan Kingsley.
Of course.
I stare at the screen.
Coincidence?
Not likely.
There's another knock.
Slower this time.
I don't need to check the peephole.
I know.
I open the door.
Rowan stands there, hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable.
He looks too comfortable in my hallway.
"Do you need something?" I ask evenly.
His gaze flicks past me briefly, taking in the small dorm room behind my shoulder.
Then back to me.
"You checked your assignments yet?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"And I'm assuming this is where you pretend it was random."
A muscle in his jaw tightens slightly.
"It wasn't random."
At least he's honest.
"Let me guess," I say. "You requested control."
"I requested efficiency."
I almost laugh.
"That's what we're calling it?"
He steps closer.
Not touching.
Just entering my space.
"Business Strategy accounts for thirty percent of final rankings," he says quietly. "I don't work with liabilities."
"I'm not one."
"Prove it."
There's no heat in his voice.
No flirtation.
Just a challenge.
"You think this is punishment," I say.
"It's evaluation."
"You could've picked anyone."
"I did."
The hallway feels smaller suddenly.
"Why?" I ask.
His eyes hold mine.
Because you don't bend.
Because you don't flinch.
Because you looked at me like I wasn't untouchable.
He doesn't say any of that.
Instead:
"Because if you're going to challenge me," he says softly, "you'll do it where I can see you."
A shiver slides down my spine.
Not fear.
Awareness.
"And if I outperform you?" I ask.
His expression sharpens.
"You won't."
Confidence. Absolute.
I fold my arms.
"You're used to people folding."
"Yes."
"And I don't."
"I've noticed."
Silence.
Tension thickens.
"You could drop the class," he adds casually.
There it is.
The threat, finally visible.
"Or what?"
"Or you learn how things work here."
"And if I refuse?"
His gaze drops briefly to my mouth.
Then back up.
"Then I'll make it very educational."
My pulse jumps.
He's not shouting.
Not insulting.
That makes it worse.
"You don't scare me," I say.
Something shifts in his eyes.
Darkens.
"Not yet," he replies.
A door opens down the hall.
Footsteps approach.
He steps back smoothly, mask sliding into place.
"We meet tomorrow," he says. "Eight p.m. Library conference room."
"Convenient."
"I don't do inconvenient."
He turns to leave.
Then pauses.
Without looking back, he adds:
"Don't be late, Sienna."
The way he says my name—
Low. Controlled.
Possessive.
The door at the end of the hall shuts.
He disappears around the corner.
I stand there for a long moment.
Group project.
Thirty percent of final ranking.
Corporate heir.
Control addict.
Fine.
If he wants to evaluate me—
He's going to learn something too.