Page 10 of Into the Light

“Oh, and Rain?”

I turned back around. “Yeah?”

“You’ll need to stop by the camera store down on Main Street and grab a film camera before class,” she added. I rolled my eyes, regretting my decision to pick this class because it was becoming expensive as shit.

In the end, I realized enrolling in this class was essential for my graduation. It also carried the bonus of irking Mr. Ortiz, which, I must admit, brought a selfish sense of satisfaction. That man needed a place where he wasn’t constantly barking out orders. In any case, I was determined to make it through this semester, no matter what it took, and finally graduate.

After grabbing my camera and the rest of the gear I needed from the shop off Main, I revved up my motorcycle and headed toward the English building. When I gave Ember my car, I never bought another one. A few guys rigged the engine of Ash’s Jeep since we never found the keys and drove it back to the Den, but I couldn’t bring myself to drive it, so it sat in the back of the long driveway under a car cover.

Knowing Ember was an English major and that there was a high possibility she could be in this building, put me on edge. Add to the fact that for some stupid reason the university decided to have the first day of classes this semester on a Friday, which meant I needed to prep for the first party tomorrow.

Thankfully, there were no initiations this weekend because, as the leader, I was expected to participate. I thought it was the worst and dumbest part of the Den. Eh, I thought most aspects of the Den and the Cartel were absurd, siding with Ember’s complaints about how we were just grown-ass men acting like toddlers with guns.

I loved when she would come in and sit cross-legged on the couch while bitching about Ash being late because he was at another meeting with his dad. I loved the way she smelled delicate and feminine. When she spoke was what I truly admired about her because her words were so thoughtful and strung together better than any song I could ever have imagined.

But Ember was always Ash’s. Even when she sat on my lap that first night at the frat with this exuberant confidence and shoved her tongue into my mouth.

“Fuck,” I said as I realized I was now standing in front of the older stone building.

She’s not yours.

It was a reminder I’d often had to tell myself because the way she talked, the way her body moved, and damn it, even the way she fucked my brother was the most erotically beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on in my entire life.

She is not yours.I repeated, over and over.

I walked into the building, following the signs for the basement. The descent seemed to stretch on forever, and the farther I went, the eerier it became. Unlike the rest of the campus, where the sunlight filtered through the dense trees, down here, it was an abyss of perpetual gloom. The only illumination came from the flickering fluorescent lights above, casting a stark, cold light on the narrow corridor. It was the kind of place you half expected to stumble upon a hidden passage leading to a mystery novel’s clandestine lair.

Despite the surroundings, I found a strange comfort in the atmosphere. The basement’s grim ambience resonated with my love for crime novels. The darkness down here, the relentless hum of the ventilation system, and the distant echoes of footsteps in the corridor all contributed to an otherworldly setting reminiscent of the gritty narratives I cherished.

I arrived at the small classroom attached to the darkroom, and when I glanced at my phone, I realized I was late.

“Story of my damn life,” I grumbled. I used to be a top-notch student. Eight months ago, I was a contender for valedictorian of my class. I was well-liked by my classmates and generally kept to myself within the Den. Now, I was bitter, furious, and a shadow of my former self.

Chapter five

I was always early for class. If you told me a certain time to be somewhere, I would always be at least thirty minutes early. Especially for the first day of class, I thought it was imperative to arrive early because it gave me the opportunity to pick the best seat.

There was a science to this. Not sitting too close to the professor but not sitting so far back. I paused as that thought crossed my mind and felt the subtle sting behind my ear. This same thought crossed my mind when Ash first appeared in Dr. Connolly’s class. A small laugh escaped me as I recalled how he fell asleep on me, his behavior catching me off guard. Remembering those seemingly inconsequential moments between us, now deeply ingrained in my daily life, brought me joy.

I blinked back to reality and looked around the classroom, selecting a seat in the second row. The room was tiny with only a handful of desks and a large door connecting it to the adjacent darkroom. Santiago had been texting me, plagued by worries, but I had insisted on handling my classes independently. I reminded him about the tracker, our shared location, and all the details at his disposal. Attracting more attention by having a bodyguard accompany me was a no-go. As a few other students filed in, their disdainful glances directed at me didn’t go unnoticed.

I’d gotten here without being recognized, meticulously preparing all my meals at home and persuading Santiago to do my grocery shopping to avoid contact with anyone in town. I simply wasn’t prepared for that yet. Being in a small class, where it was impossible to blend into the background, felt daunting, but at least no one had said anything thus far.

Our professor, a woman in her forties with brown curls fashioned into a high bun, dressed in black with oversized hoop earrings, entered through the connecting door. “Greetings, students,” she began. “You’ll find me listed as Ms. Broadbent on your syllabus, but I’d prefer you all call me Evie.”

A chorus of “Hey Evie” resounded through the room just as the bell signaled the start of class.

“This class is quite straightforward. I won’t burden you with numerous rules, and we have only one assignment throughout the semester.”

Whoa. I wasn’t sure if I liked that or if I needed the work to occupy my time and hands. A ripple of excitement flowed through the classroom as the door swung open. My gaze flicked to the empty seat beside me, the last vacant spot, and silently prayed the person would be the one student on campus with no inkling of who I was.

My attention snapped to the door, where a figure clad in dark jeans and a drenched black hoodie stood.

“Damn,” I muttered, the realization that I’d walked to class sinking in.

The door creaked as it swung shut, and the shadowed figure stepped into the classroom. As he moved farther into the room, my heart thudded in my chest. The room’s lights revealed him slowly, unveiling a silhouette that felt both foreign and achingly familiar.

His eyes, those penetrating orbs, were a shade of blue I could never forget. They were like a stormy sea, captivating and tumultuous. His every movement held a grace I had once known so intimately, and in that moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl.

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