I followed her gaze, and sure enough, there they were—the trio of impossibly handsome men I had noticed earlier, lounging against the stone wall with an air of effortless cool. Heat crept up my neck, and I quickly turned back to El, lowering my voice. “Why do they keep staring like they want to murder me? It's terrifying.”
El laughed, shaking her head. “They’re the Shadow Brothers—Nox, Zarek, and Damon. The most powerful guys at the academy, maybe even all of Nexara. And by the looks of it, they’re intrigued by you. I’m not surprised. Word about the mysterious new girl is already flying around campus.” She smirked. “And before you ask, no, they’re not actual brothers. They’re closer than most real siblings, though. No one really knows what their deal is. They’re powerful and secretive, and frankly, a little intimidating. Although,” she added with a thoughtful hum, “Zarek does have a certain charm.”
“Charm isn’t enough to offset the whole ‘murderous vibe’ they’ve got going on,” I muttered, groaning inwardly. “Great. Just what I needed—attention from the three most powerful Gifted here. I'd rather face a horde of snarling dogs.” I cast another glance over my shoulder at them, only to see them still watching me, their gazes intense and unwavering.
El patted my shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry, they’ll get bored eventually. Hopefully.” But the playful glint in her eyes told me she didn’t believe it for a second.
Professor Lorian strode into the field with the confidence of someone who had seen more battles than he cared to admit. His presence was commanding, and as soon as he stepped into view, the murmurs among students stopped. He walked to the center of the field, taking in the class with a steely gaze.
"Today, we’ll be focusing on sparring," his deep voice carried across the expansive field. "Find a partner. The rules are simple: no drawing blood, no magic, no abilities. First one to tap, loses."
I glanced around, noticing the students started to pair up. Turning my attention back to Professor Lorian, I realized his eyes had locked onto me. They lingered for a moment—too long. Then he smiled, clapping his hands together with finality.
"Let’s begin."
El flashed me a playful grin, her red-tinted eyes gleaming with excitement as she sized me up. "I’ll take it easy on you," she teased, winking before getting into position. She looked confident—like this wasn’t her first time sparring. Meanwhile, I awkwardly mimicked her stance, feeling the unfamiliar tension in my muscles as I got ready to defend myself.
"I’m not sure I’m cut out for this," I muttered, trying to loosen the nerves tightening in my chest.
El laughed softly. "You’ll be fine. It’s just for practice."
But as I stood there, preparing for whatever El was about to throw at me, my mind wandered to darker memories. I’d never had any real training in fighting—only the kind of experience that came from desperation. I hadn’t thought about that night in a long time—the night after I got kicked out of the orphanage for being "too old." I had been walking home from a late shift at the diner, my feet aching and my body exhausted, when a man approached me.
I still remembered the stench of alcohol rolling off of him in waves and the way his eyes tracked me like prey as I tried to slip past him. My heart felt like it was going to explode from the frantic beating, but I kept walking. His wicked smile still haunts me. Before I knew it, his hand had clamped down on my arm with a bruising force, yanking me into a dark alley.
Terror choked my scream, a silent cry trapped in my throat. Even if I could have screamed, it wouldn't have mattered in that part of town—nobody was coming to save me. I fought, kicking and scratching like a wild animal, my movements frantic and uncoordinated. My nails raked across his face, my feet connected with whatever flesh they could find, but he only laughed. That guttural sound—a chilling symphony of amusement and cruelty—still echoed in the darkest parts of my mind. My body shuddered involuntarily at the resurfaced memory. I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms, the sharp pain a lifeline dragging me back to the present.
"Thalia?" El's voice was soft, laced with concern, her head tilted as she studied my face. "You okay?"
I shoved the memory back into the shadows, forcing a casual tone. "Yeah," I lied, my voice catching slightly, "just... let's do this."
El didn't push, sensing my unease. She offered a small, reassuring smile and stood up straight. "Okay. Let's start slow."
I nodded, grateful she didn’t question me further. My past wasn’t something I wanted to dwell on, but it had a way of creeping up when I least expected it.
After a few rounds of El taking me down effortlessly, I started to find a rhythm. My body—still a little hesitant—slowly caught on to her moves. Each time she lunged at me, I learned to anticipate her, blocking her strikes more and more successfully. Though I still couldn’t quite manage to take her down, I was at least able to defend myself, and that felt like a victory in itself.
We laughed as we went back and forth, testing each other’s reflexes. El was quick—quicker than I’d ever be—but after a while, the fear of failure melted away, replaced by the thrill of the sparring. Time flew as we traded jabs and dodges.
The sharp sound of the whistle rang out across the field, cutting through the noise of our laughter. I glanced around, seeing other students gasping for breath, their faces red and sweaty as they stood with ease. Professor Lorian’s booming voice echoed from the center of the field, instructing everyone to head to the showers.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, still catching my breath as I turned towards the locker rooms. Across the field, those mesmerizing amber eyes locked onto mine, the same curious expression dancing in their depths—making my heart skip a beat.
He had draped his shirt carelessly over his shoulders, giving me an unobstructed view of his sculpted chest. Sweat glistened against his sun-kissed skin, catching the light and emphasizing every chiseled muscle—from the curve of his shoulders to the sharp definition of his abs.
Black, mesmerizing tattoos sprawled across his chest and down his arms. They were like living art—vines entwined with symbols so ancient they seemed alive, shifting subtly as his muscles flexed. My eyes, betraying me completely, trailed downward, lingering far too long on his torso, down to where his sweatpants hung low on his hips—the sharp lines of his V-cut disappearing beneath the waistband.
Heat crept up my neck as I forced my gaze back to his face, catching him watching me with an amused smirk playing on his lips. He clearly enjoyed the blatant appreciation in my eyes. With a teasing wink that sent my pulse racing, he turned and disappeared into the men's locker room
"Which one was that?" I asked, still watching the door he had just gone through, my curiosity getting the better of me.
El glanced in the direction I was staring, her lips curling into a smile. "That," she said, drawing out the word, "was Zarek. Dangerous, powerful, and way too good-looking for his own good." She sighed, shaking her head. "He’s beautiful, but pure trouble."
El laughed as she continued, shaking her head. "Those brothers are dangerous in their own way. Most of the guys around here fear them, and the girls? They’re all fighting for their attention."
As we walked toward the women's locker rooms, I couldn’t help but wonder what it meant to catch the attention of someone like Zarek—someone who, by El’s account, was far more dangerous than he appeared. His amber eyes, the way they seemed to pierce through me, the subtle smirk that played on his lips—it was all so intoxicating, yet troubling. Was it genuine interest, or was I just another conquest for him?
Chapter3
