Chapter 55 Asher and Damian's clash
They both turned.
Damian stood a few feet away, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his jacket. The sunlight caught in his hair, his expression relaxed but his eyes were sharp and assessing the people before him.
Lila’s heart jumped. Why does it always feel like the air changes when he’s here?
“Asher,” Damian said with a small nod. “Always around to save the day, huh?”
Asher’s jaw tightened. “Funny. I don’t remember you being there the last few times she needed saving.”
The words landed heavily. Lila’s stomach knotted. She stepped forward slightly, wanting to stop whatever was about to happen.
Damian’s easy smile didn’t fade, but his tone cooled. “That’s because I don’t make her feel like she’s in danger every time I talk to her.”
Asher’s voice was low, measured. “You don’t know anything about what she’s been through.”
“Neither do you,” Damian said, stepping closer. “You just hover.”
Lila’s pulse quickened. She could feel the tension radiating between them like static. Students nearby had started glancing over, sensing something brewing.
“Stop it,” she whispered, but neither man looked at her.
Asher crossed his arms. “You don’t even know her well enough to pretend you care.”
Damian’s calm cracked for the first time. “Care doesn’t need a time limit, man. Maybe she just needs someone who doesn’t treat her like she’s broken.”
The words hung there. Sharp, true, and painful.
Lila’s breath caught in her throat. She wanted to disappear.
Asher’s mouth opened, but she didn’t let him speak. “Please,” she said, voice trembling, “can we not do this here?”
For a heartbeat, neither moved. The air felt too thick, too full of everything they weren’t saying.
Finally, Damian looked away, running a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he muttered. “But I’m not sorry for what I said.”
Asher didn’t answer. He just stared at Lila, not angry, but wounded somehow. “You need to be careful who you trust.”
“I am,” she said softly.
He gave a short nod, almost to himself, and turned away. She watched him walk off, shoulders tense, his hands buried deep in his pockets.
Damian exhaled beside her, shaking his head. “He’s got it bad for you, you know.”
Lila frowned. “He’s just protective.”
“That’s not what I saw,” Damian said quietly, a hint of sadness in his smile. “You’re caught in the middle, aren’t you?”
She didn’t answer.
He looked like he wanted to say more but stopped himself. “I’ll see you later, okay? Try to get some rest.”
And then he left with an easy stride and quiet confidence, just like always.
Lila stood there, staring after him, her heart still racing. The sunlight had shifted, long shadows stretching across the courtyard.
Two people. Two kinds of care. One feels safe, the other feels like freedom. But which one’s real?
The thought scared her more than the whispers.
When she finally looked around, the courtyard was almost empty again. No one was watching. No one was calling her name.
She realized she’d been holding her breath.
Slowly, she turned and started walking toward the library with silent steps, head bowed, the echo of their voices chasing her down the path. She was going to skip her next class
The café was quieter than usual that evening. The hum of espresso machines mixed with the soft murmur of students typing, papers rustling, cups clinking. Outside, the sky had faded to a dusky blue, streetlights blinking on one by one.
Lila sat by the window, a small table tucked in the corner, her notebook open in front of her. The pages were mostly blank. Her pen hovered over a line she couldn’t seem to finish. Words refused to come.
She’d told Damian and Asher she was fine again. She’d smiled, waved, and pretended to mean it. Now, under the soft café light, that lie felt heavy.
Her coffee had gone cold. She didn’t even remember taking a sip.
Every few minutes, she glanced at the window. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was a habit now of the quiet paranoia that followed her everywhere like a second shadow.
The glass reflected her faintly, her red hair tucked behind her ear, tired eyes, and a notebook she couldn’t focus on.
She rubbed her palms together. You’re safe. You’re inside. You’re fine.
But she wasn’t sure she believed herself anymore.
A sudden chill ran down her neck. The kind that made the tiny hairs rise.
She looked up, this time past her reflection, across the street.
A man was sitting there.
He was too far to make out clearly, but the shape of him was sharp with broad shoulders, a dark coat, and unmoving. He sat alone on a bench across from the café, facing directly toward her window.
Lila’s heartbeat quickened.
She blinked once, trying to focus, to convince herself it was just her nerves. But when her eyes adjusted the bench was empty.
The man was gone.
Her stomach tightened. Did he move? Was he even there?
She forced herself to look back down at her notebook, to write something, anything, just to ground herself. The pen scratched out half a sentence before her phone buzzed against the table.
She froze.
The sound was too loud in the quiet café. A few students glanced her way, then went back to their work.
Lila’s fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the phone.
A new message. The number was blocked. But how his message was delivered was a surprise.
She ignored everything and read the text aloud. “I gave you my heart, yet you have refused to see me.”
For a moment, her vision blurred. The edges of the screen seemed to shake in her hands.
Her first thought wasn’t fear, it was disbelief. What heart? How could she know when the person kept sending her gifts without a name?
Her chest felt tight. She wanted to stand up, to leave, but her body wouldn’t move.
The café noise faded, every clink, every whisper. All she could hear was the low hum of her own pulse.
The phone slipped from her hand and hit the floor. The sound made her flinch.
She crouched to pick it up, trying to steady her breathing. Don’t panic. Not here. Not in front of people.
When she sat back up, she caught her reflection in the window again. Her own pale face stared back, lips parted, eyes wide but there was something else.
A hint of faint red, and it was out of place.
It wasn’t outside. It wasn’t on her.
It was behind her.
A shape in the reflection blurred by the glass, like a smudge of color resting on the seat.
Her chest rose and fell too fast.
Slowly, her head turned.
Her breath hitched.
There, on the seat behind her, was a single rose petal, a bright, velvety red, lying perfectly still on the dark fabric.
Lila’s fingers gripped the table. For a second, she couldn’t move, she couldn’t blink.
No one had been near her table. No one had passed close enough to drop anything.
Her pulse thudded so loud it drowned out every sound in the room.
They were here.
Whoever sent that message they weren’t watching from across the street anymore.
They’d been inside.
Her stomach twisted. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Her throat burned.
She reached for her phone again, but her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped it a second time.
The petal stayed there, still untouched, perfectly made like a signature.
Lila’s thoughts spiraled. Was it him? The man on the bench? Or someone else?
Her mind flickered through every face she knew, Damian, Asher, Roy, Beckett, Mercer until they all blurred into one impossible question.
Who keeps leaving these things? And what do they want from me?
The café light above her flickered once, then steadied again.
Lila’s heart pounded so hard it hurt.
She didn’t notice the barista calling her name for a refill. She didn’t hear the doorbell chime as someone walked out behind her.
Her eyes stayed on that petal.
Lila’s gaze trembled on the single rose petal resting on her chair still fresh, as if it had just been placed there seconds ago.