Cora sat on the edge of her bed, her mind heavy with worry. Her mother's words echoed relentlessly in her ears, gnawing at every rational thought she tried to summon. She hadn't even noticed her phone buzzing until it vibrated insistently against the nightstand.
When she glanced at the screen, her heart skipped—Damien.
She turned to look at the bathroom door where Amelia had locked herself away, unable to stomach the bloody scene from this morning. Across the room, Sienna cowered beneath her thick duvet, pale and trembling like a leaf caught in a storm.
With a breath she didn't realize she was holding, Cora stood and padded across the room. She opened the door to find Damien waiting, leaning casually against the frame with an infuriatingly smug tilt to his lips. His midnight hair was tousled artfully—as if he'd spent an hour perfecting the mess—and his arms crossed lazily over his broad chest.
Without a word, he ruffled her messy hair like she was some disobedient pet, then caught her hand firmly in his.
"Come with me," he muttered, his voice low and confident, as if he owned her fate—and maybe he did.
He didn't bother looking back to see if she would follow. He already knew she would.
He led her down a hidden hallway tucked behind the grand staircase, and into his private study nestled deep within the old library. The scent of leather-bound books and cedar wrapped around her as they stepped inside.
The door clicked shut. The moment it did, Damien pulled her against him from behind, his arms sliding around her waist. His fingers splayed possessively across her stomach, his touch branding her through the fabric.
For a moment, she forgot why she was worried at all.
"Whatever happened this morning," Cora started hesitantly, her hands loosening his grip so she could turn and face him. Her mask stayed firmly in place, but her wide eyes gave her away. "It wasn't a night creature, was it?"
Damien's mouth curved into a slow, smirk, his dark eyes gleaming.
"No," he said smoothly. "It's something else. Something that only appears at night."
Cora exhaled shakily her heart skipping a beat. As if living among vampires wasn't complicated enough—now there was another monster stalking the shadows.
Damien brushed his hand through her hair . He brushed a knuckle down her cheek, a motion both infuriatingly tender and arrogantly sure.
"It's from the sea," he added, as if dropping a casual bombshell.
Cora stiffened, her heart lurching. "The sea?" she echoed, eyes wide behind the mask.
"Mm-hm," Damien hummed, ushering her toward a couch with the kind of lazy grace that made it seem like he had all the time—and all the power—in the world. He sat down first, sprawling like a king on his throne, and tugged her down next to him with an indulgent look.
"This isn't the first time it's happened," he continued, idly twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. His tone was maddeningly casual, as though discussing a minor inconvenience rather than a deadly threat. "It happened yesterday too. The investigation found traces—scales. Scales only creatures of the sea could possess."
Goosebumps prickled along Cora's arms.
"Are you saying…" she swallowed hard, "it's a mermaid?"
Damien chuckled, the sound deep and sinful, his gaze never leaving her eyes.
"Little bird, not every creature from the sea is some pretty thing singing on rocks." He leaned in close, his breath brushing against her temple. "There are far worse monsters down there. Beasts that answer to mermaids—controlled, not free-willed."
Cora shivered. "So... there's a mermaid on the island?"
"Possibly," he said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear with exaggerated care. He leaned closer, and Cora instinctively leaned back, bumping into the armrest.
"W-What are you doing?" she stammered, heart thudding.
He smiled like a cat cornering its mouse. "Waiting for the day you let me kiss you properly," he murmured, his fingers tracing her masked lips lightly before replacing them with a mock kiss, his own lips pressing against the barrier.
Cora froze, her hand splayed against his chest, feeling the steady, unbothered rhythm of his heart beneath her palm.
No one had ever tried to kiss her before—not in this way. Not tenderly. Not with patience. Tears welled up in her eyes, sliding down silently, soaking into the cushion beneath her.
Damien pulled back immediately, his brows drawing together.
"Hey," he murmured, brushing the wetness from beneath her mask with a touch surprisingly soft for someone who otherwise radiated arrogant authority.
"Thank you," she whispered brokenly. "Thank you for choosing me—even though I look like a freak."
A low, almost amused laugh rumbled from his chest. "Freak?" he repeated, as if the word offended him personally. He kissed the corner of her mask where her tear had fallen. "You're the most beautiful little bird I've ever seen."
Her heart broke at the sincerity she glimpsed, tucked beneath all the smugness.
"I love you," Cora said before she could lose her courage.
Damien stilled. Then a slow, devastating smile unfurled across his face—the kind of smile that could ruin kingdoms and hearts alike.
"And I love you too, my masked little bird," he said, voice low and dangerous, as if the confession was a blood oath. He brushed his nose lightly against hers before pulling away, leaving her dizzy and breathless.
"There's something I need to tell you" he muttered his demeanor shifting.
Cora blinked at the sudden shift.
"The Dean's about to gather all the students in the Great Hall," Damien said, standing up and stretching lazily. "They're going to hypnotize everyone—to make them forget everything they saw this morning."
Cora's jaw dropped. "Is that even ethical?!"
Damien smirked, plucking an invisible piece of lint off his sleeve. "Ethics are for people who lose, sweetheart. The world is built on secrets and dirty hands. Always has been."
He tilted her chin up, smugness rolling off him like perfume. "Now, you'll need to pretend you're hypnotized. Think you can manage that, little bird?"
Cora nodded, heart hammering.
Minutes later, they entered the Great Hall.
The massive space buzzed with fear and confusion. First-year to fourth-year students were crammed shoulder to shoulder, whispering anxiously. Some clutched each other; others looked like they were on the verge of bolting.
Professors and administrators flanked the stage at the front, wearing tight, unreadable expressions.
The Dean stepped forward, her voice smoothing over the crowd like velvet. "Good afternoon, students. I know you're frightened. I assure you... everything is under control."
At her subtle hand signal, the night creatures moved.
Cora stiffened. Around her, professors and certain older students began whispering low, rhythmic chants. Waves of unnatural energy radiated out, thick and cloying. Within seconds, most of the students' eyes glazed over, their bodies relaxing into slack-jawed compliance.
Only Cora, hidden among them, remained aware—watching, memorizing.
Beside her, Amelia whispered frantically, "Is it just me, or is something really, really wrong?"
Cora barely had time to widen her eyes in silent shock before someone stepped in front of her.
Professor Graves.
His smile was crooked and predatory.
"You saw nothing this morning," he whispered silkily, trying to plant the command deep into her mind. "Today, you attended class as usual. Later, you'll leave campus early for a well-deserved break."
Cora clenched her fists, forcing herself to keep her face blank. The hypnotic suggestion slid off her mind like water on glass. It wasn't working.
Graves eyes narrowed on her mask .
Instead of moving on, he leaned closer.
Too close.
His irises shifted—blood-red, glowing with malevolent power.
"Take off your mask," he commanded, voice curling into a dangerous snarl.
Cora's blood ran cold.
Oh no!.