Page 84 of Carved in Ruin

“Good,” I reply, glancing up from the monitor. “Still working through the data from this morning’s run, but I think we’re getting closer to what you want.”

“Keep at it,” he says, disappearing as quickly as he came.

He’s been a godsend. Truly. He didn’t just give me a place on his team—he helped me find my way around campus, trained me on all the lab equipment, introduced me to faculty members, and even put in a good word for me with the scholarship committee before I officially got started. I don’t need the scholarship anymore, but the gesture still meant something. Getting it wasn’t hard, my father made sure I had nothing in my name, not even a bank account, despite his riches

Rafael’s card burns a hole in my wallet, always on me like a tether. When he said he’d give me space, I should’ve known he didn’t mean it in the way most people would. Physical space, sure. He hasn’t shown up at my door, or stormed into my lab like I halfway expected. But every day, like clockwork, a bouquet of flowers arrives.

Roses. White lilies. Daisies. Each one prettier than the last, and each one accompanied by a note. I don’t plan to open them anymore. They’re dark, obsessive.

You’re the air I breathe, Mila. Do you think I’ll let you suffocate me?

I shiver at the memory of yesterday’s note and shove it out of my mind, turning my attention back to the work in front of me.

It’s strange, though—being here, in this lab, surrounded by other people who love what they do. It’s a kind of joy I’d almost forgotten. I wake up excited now. I wake up without that tight knot of dread in my chest. Just… peace.

Well, as much peace as someone like me can hope for. I always feel watched. Even when the streets seem empty, even when I’m alone, I can feel their presence, unseen but constant. I never catch a glimpse, but I know Rafael’s guards are there, lurking in shadows, blending into the background.

Mary walks into the lab with her usual huge SpongeBob tote bag slung over one shoulder. She settles onto the stool besideme, glancing over my shoulder at the instrument I’ve been fighting with for the better part of twenty minutes.

“Still not behaving?” she asks.

I groan, slumping dramatically. “Not even close. I think it’s mocking me.”

Mary chuckles, pulling her red hair back into a neat ponytail. She takes the calibration guide off the table, scans it for a few seconds, and starts adjusting the knobs. Mary has a background in physics, so she skipped the prep courses that have been eating up most of my free time. I swear, sometimes she makes everything look so damn effortless.

“I don’t know how you’re not losing your mind,” I whisper, leaning back on my stool to watch her work.

“Oh, I am,” she replies, still focused on the machine. “I’ve got this dynamics class that’s absolutely kicking my ass. Professor Dan can’t stop piling on the assignments. It’s like he’s trying to weed us all out before the semester even starts.”

“Sounds brutal.”

“You have no idea.” She glances at me, smiling. “I’ll save you my notes, though. If you’re stuck with him next term, you’ll need them.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

The door swings open and Sam strides in like he owns the place. “Hello, beautiful people! What’s for lunch today?”

I burst out laughing. Sam always manages to bring his own brand of chaotic energy into the room. He’s like a walking Yelp review, more obsessed with food than anyone I’ve ever met. But to be fair, he’s introduced us to some incredible restaurants, so I can’t complain too much.

“Let the expert decide that,” Mary teases, still fiddling with the equipment.

Sam strikes a pose like a food critic in a five-star restaurant. “I’ll have you know, my culinary expertise is highly sought after.”

“You’re literally just hungry all the time,” I shoot back, grinning.

He clutches his chest in mock offense. “Rude. But true.” Then he perks up. “Oh! There’s this new Greek place that just opened up downtown. Amazing reviews. Garlic fries. You’re coming.”

Mary snorts. “Garlic fries? Is that your selling point?”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Sam says, flashing a smile.

“Fine. You win,” I say, throwing my hands up in surrender. “But if it’s bad, you’re paying.”

“Deal.”

Sam coughs sharply. I scowl. “Are you okay, Sam?”

He waves me off, but there’s something tired in the movement. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just my apartment acting up again.”

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