L U K E

I know something’s wrong the second I walk into the dining hall.

The air hums differently, too loud, too fast. Forks clatter, benches scrape, and everyone talks at once. It’s the kind of buzz that means someone’s reputation just got fed to the wolves. I don’t even need to ask whose.

“Did you hear? She was out after curfew.”
“With him?”
“They said near the east wing..”

My hands clench around my tray. I don’t even need her name to know they mean Elle. The sound of it seems to hide behind every whisper, sharp and cruel.

Maribel Crane’s voice slices through the noise like a knife. Of course it’s her, the queen of spreading venom with a smile. She’s perched on the end of her table, all gloss and confidence, making sure everyone hears.

“I saw them,” she says, too sweet. “The new boy and Elle. Walking close, hand in hand. Kind of cute, right?” She lets the pause drag, then adds, “Or desperate.”

The words hit me in the chest. My tray slams onto the table. Cocoa spills across the wood. Heads turn. No one breathes.

Maribel’s smirk widens when she catches my glare. “Morning, Luke,” she sing-songs. “You should ask her how midnight tasted.”

Someone snorts. A few others laugh behind their hands. I stare at Maribel until she looks away, then grab my bag and turn on my heel.

The knot in my chest twists tighter with every step.

I hear fragments as I move past the tables..
“She must like danger.”
“I thought she was with Luke.”
“Guess not anymore.”

They sting more than I want to admit.

The new boy. The quiet one who always watches from the back. The one no one really knows. He’s got that strange, too-still energy that makes your instincts go tense, but Elle doesn’t see it, or maybe she does and doesn’t care.

He shouldn’t be near her. He shouldn’t even know her name.

Juniper Vale steps into my path, hugging her notebook like a shield. “Luke! Is it true? They say Elle..”

“Don’t,” I bite out. “Just don’t.”

Her mouth opens again, but I’m already walking. The hall’s too bright after the dining room, the light bouncing off frost on the windows. The radiators hiss, but the air still feels cold. Ravenshade always does lately, like winter keeps creeping in, no matter the season.

The gossip echoes behind me as the doors shut. I try to shove the words away, but they keep repeating:
With him. After curfew.

It doesn’t sound like her, but what if..?

I push faster, boots hitting the old stone floor harder than they should.

She’ll be near the east corridor before the first period; she always is. The one that leads toward the abandoned wing, the same place the rumor said she went.

My pulse thuds in my ears. I picture her sneaking through the dark with that stranger, his shadow brushing hers. I hate that my brain can even imagine it.

“Luke’s going to lose it,” someone murmurs as I pass. Maybe they’re right.

I turn the corner sharply. The corridor ahead stretches quiet and cold, the kind of silence that makes you think the building’s holding its breath.

Somewhere down that hall, I know she’s there, probably waiting, probably acting like nothing happened.

The knot in my chest hardens into something meaner. Not at her, not really. At him. At all the whispers wrapping around her name like smoke.

I drag a hand down my face, trying to pull myself together. The bell’s going to ring soon. If I see her now, before class, before the crowd, maybe I can make sense of it. Maybe I can stop whatever’s starting before it gets worse.

The frost on the window spreads in thin spider lines as I walk past, like the glass itself reacts to my mood.

I didn’t notice. I just keep moving, jaw locked, heart pounding.

Whatever happened last night, I’m going to hear it from her.
Not from Maribel.
Not from whispers.
From Elle.

Elle’s exactly where I thought she’d be.

She stands at the edge of the east corridor, half in light, half in shadow. Her scarf’s pulled high, hair still messy from sleep. For one stupid second, relief punches through my anger. She’s fine. She’s here.

Then she looks up, and the relief burns out.

“Luke,” she says softly. “Hey.”

I mean to smile. What comes out sounds rough. “We need to talk.”

She blinks at my tone but nods. “Okay.”

The silence stretches. Frost curls along the bottom of the window behind her, creeping slow, like it’s listening too. I shove my hands into my pockets so I don’t reach for her right away.

“Did you go out last night?” My voice is steady, almost calm. Too calm.

Her lips part, then press together. “Who told you that?”

“Doesn’t matter.” It matters too much. “Just answer me.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she says after a moment. “So I walked. That’s all.”

“With him?”

She flinches, not from guilt but from the word. Him. The boy without a name. The one who showed up out of nowhere and somehow has a place at our table now.

“He found me,” she admits. “He didn’t do anything. He just..talked.”

My pulse kicks up. “Talked,” I repeat, tasting it like something sour. “At midnight. In the east wing.”

Her eyes flash. “You think I wanted that? You think I’m stupid?”

“I think you don’t know what he is.” The words come out low. “No one does.”

Her arms cross. “And you do?”

“No,” I snapped. “But I know enough to stay away.”

She looks down at the floor. “He helped me when..” She stops herself, shaking her head. “Forget it.”

“When what?” I press, stepping closer.

“Luke, please.” Her voice cracks a little. “Not here.”

I stop just short of her, the distance between us thin as a breath. “You should’ve told me. You always tell me.”

“I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

“Too late.”

The words come out harsher than I mean. I lower my voice. “You’re not alone in this, Elle. Whatever he’s doing.. whatever’s happening.. I’m not going to let him near you again.”

She exhales, tired and soft. “You can’t control who I talk to.”

“I’m not trying to control you,” I say, even though maybe I am. “I’m trying to protect you.”

She meets my eyes then, and it’s like being hit straight in the chest. “From what? From rumors? From something you think he might be?”

Her question hits deeper than she knows. Because I don’t know what he is. I just know that every time he looks at her, something inside me freezes and burns at the same time.

For a second neither of us speaks. The quiet hum of the radiators fills the hall. Somewhere behind us, a door shuts. The sound echoes too long, like the corridor doesn’t want to let it go.

“Why are you defending him?” I whisper.

“I’m not. I just…” Her voice fades. “He’s different.”

“Exactly.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She sighs. “He said he knew things about the lockers, about what’s happening around the school. I wanted to hear..”

My laugh is short and cold. “So now you believe him?”

“No. I just..he seemed like he understood.”

“Understood what?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer. Her eyes dart toward the shadows down the hall.

A pulse of cold air slides past us, sharp enough to sting. The lights flicker once, twice. Then settle.

She shivers. “Did you feel that?”

“Yeah.” I glance down the hall. It’s empty, but the air feels wrong, like something’s waiting. “Let’s get out of here.”

Before she can move, something whispers.

It’s faint, soft enough to doubt I heard it right, but it slithers between us anyway.

“You are mine.”

It’s his voice. The same tone I heard that night in the courtyard, the one that slid under my skin.

Elle’s hand flies to her mouth. Her eyes go wide. “Luke, that..”

“I heard it,” I cut in. My stomach twists, the jealousy burning into something darker. “He followed you?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t..” She looks around, panic starting to show. “He’s not here.”

But the whisper comes again, closer this time, brushing the edge of my ear like breath.

“Mine.”

I spin, searching the hallway. Nothing. Just the lockers, silent and shining with thin frost. The sound of my pulse is louder than my thoughts.

Elle’s shaking now. “Luke…”

I grab her shoulders before I think. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

But even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. Because whatever that voice was, it wasn’t inside the hall, it was inside the Locker.

And it used his voice.

I pull my hands from her shoulders before I hurt something. Hers. Mine. The air between us is brittle, ready to crack.

“I’m done talking about him,” I say, voice shaking. “If he shows up again, you run. Don’t wait. Don’t listen.”

“Luke, he didn’t..”

“Don’t defend him.” The words come out too sharp. “He’s not normal, Elle. None of this is.”

She opens her mouth, but I can’t stand the look in her eyes, like she’s torn between defending him and being scared of me. So I turn away before I see which she chooses.

The hall feels colder with every step I take. My breath fogs white. Somewhere behind me, she whispers my name, but I keep walking.

The lockers hum as I pass. The frost spreads.

Then, soft as a sigh, the voice comes again.. low, deliberate, wrapping around my anger.

“You are mine.”

I freeze. The whisper lingers, echoing down the corridor long after I’ve already started to run.