Chapter 4
The morning sun cut through the tall Gothic windows of the east wing, painting long golden stripes across the polished oak floorboards. Elena walked alone, her white cane tapping a steady, rhythmic cadence against the wood. Tap. Pause. Tap. Pause. The sound was crisp, deliberate, and entirely unhurried. Students parting the hallway gave her a wide berth, their whispers dying out the moment she approached. The fallout from the previous day had spread through the student body like wildfire.
She stopped at locker 412, her fingers sliding effortlessly along the metal vents until they found the combination lock. She spun the dial with practiced precision.
“You think you’re untouchable now, don’t you?”
Julian stepped out from behind the intersecting pillar, his school blazer missing its tie, his shirt collar unbuttoned. He looked tired, dark circles shadowing his eyes, his posture radiating a volatile mixture of humiliation and desperate anger.
Elena didn’t turn around. She opened her locker door, the hinges emitting a faint, metallic creak. “You’re standing in my light, Julian.”
“My father screamed at me for two hours last night,” Julian hissed, stepping closer until she could smell the peppermint scent of his breath masking a bitter edge. “He said if the Vance family pulls their endowment, we lose the house, the cars, everything. All because you couldn’t walk ten feet without dropping your stupid stick.”
Elena pulled her chemistry textbook from the shelf, her movements agonizingly slow and deliberate. She closed the locker door with a soft click. Only then did she turn to face him, tilting her chin up just enough to meet his angry gaze with her single, unblinking eye.
“My father doesn’t care about your house,” Elena said, her voice entirely devoid of emotion. “He cares about patterns. And you have established a very predictable one.”
Julian’s hand twitched at his side, his fingers curling into a fist. “I could break you right here, blind spot and all, and nobody would say a word.”
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“Try it,” a third voice echoed down the hallway.
Both turned to see two senior prefects standing at the end of the corridor, their arms crossed over their chests, watching Julian with cold, assessing eyes.
