23

23
Mirella

The threats stopped after that night.

I didn’t know what Kaelen did, but it worked.

No more anonymous messages, no strange cars, no letters.

Just silence.

It should have made me feel safe again, but instead, it made me uneasy.

The kind of quiet that comes before something big happens.

When I thanked Kaelen, he brushed it off.

“It’s nothing,” he said casually, like he’d just held a door open for me instead of shutting down a dangerous family.

“Nothing?” I repeated, staring at him. “They were threatening my family, Kaelen. That’s not nothing.”

He shrugged, eyes distant. “I just made a few calls. You don’t need to worry about it.”

I wanted to push for details, to understand how he could make a family that powerful back off with just a few calls—but something in his tone told me not to.

So, I nodded. “Still… thank you.”

He smiled faintly. “You don’t owe me anything. We’re friends now, remember?”

Friends.

The word sounded strange coming from him. From a Legion. From someone who’d once watched while his friends made other students cry.

But now, sitting next to me, he didn’t feel like a Legion anymore. He just felt like Kaelen.

As the school year began to wind down, things started to shift. The halls that used to echo with whispered fear now carried laughter. Students walked taller.

People started speaking up when they saw unfair treatment. The school didn’t feel like the Legions’ playground anymore—it felt like ours.

Our group had grown too.

What started as six scared kids had become fifteen.

Fifteen voices that refused to stay silent.

When I looked around the cafeteria and saw them sitting together—Yuki joking with the stutterer, Iris smiling for the first time in weeks—I felt something I hadn’t felt since arriving at Saint Auriel. Pride.

We had started something real.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t over.

Two Legions were still in the school, and if Kaelen was right about power and connections, then they wouldn’t stay quiet for long.

One afternoon, I got called to the principal’s office. My stomach knotted immediately.

I thought maybe he’d found out about our group or the anonymous reports.

But when I entered, he stood up with a small smile.

“Miss Mirella,” he said, gesturing for me to sit. “I just wanted to thank you.”

I blinked, unsure I’d heard right. “Thank me?”

He nodded. “The school is… better now. Safer. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but I know you had something to do with it.”

I didn’t know what to say. No one had ever said something like that to me before

“I just… wanted things to be fair,” I managed to say.

“That’s exactly what this place needs more of,” he replied. “Students who care enough to make a difference.”

When I left his office, I couldn’t stop smiling. For once, all the fear, the sneaking around, the late-night messages—it felt worth it.

The last week of school came faster than I expected.

Everyone was counting down to summer, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.

Not to the group. And not to Kaelen.

He found me in the hallway after class and asked, “Can we meet at the court later?"

I didn’t even need to ask which court. The basketball one had somehow become ours. “Sure,” I said.

When I got there, the sun was setting behind the gym, painting the sky orange and pink. Kaelen stood there spinning a basketball in his hand.

“You play?” I asked.

He grinned. “Sometimes. Want me to teach you?”

I laughed. “I’ll probably embarrass myself.”

“That’s fine,” he said, tossing the ball gently toward me. “I’ll go easy on you.”

He didn’t.

I missed almost every shot, tripped twice, and once hit the rim so hard the ball bounced straight back into my face.

But Kaelen was laughing—really laughing—and soon, so was I. For a while, it didn’t feel like we were enemies or even classmates. Just two people trying to forget the chaos of the past months.

When it got dark, we sat on the cool pavement, catching our breath. The school lights glowed dimly in the distance.

“So,” he said quietly, “what are your plans for the summer?”

I shrugged. “Probably just staying home. Maybe help my mom at her store. You?”

“My family’s traveling,” he said. “Italy first, then somewhere in Asia. My dad loves showing off our ‘heritage.’” He air-quoted the word, rolling his eyes.

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t awkward. It was calm.

He turned to me suddenly, eyes softer than I’d ever seen them. “I’m glad I met you, Mirella."

My heart jumped. “I’m glad I met you too.”

He stood up and offered me his hand. When I took it, he pulled me up slowly, his fingers brushing mine longer than necessary. For a second, I thought he might kiss me. His gaze dropped to my lips, and my breath caught.

But then he smiled—a small, teasing curve—and said, “Goodnight.”
Before I could respond, he walked away, leaving me standing there, heart racing and confused.

On the last day of school, everyone was in high spirits. We handed in our final projects, took group photos, and made promises we probably wouldn’t all keep. My group gathered at our usual table one last time, laughing and reminiscing about everything we’d been through.

“You think next year will be this peaceful?” Dante asked.
I grinned. “With us around? Probably not.”
They laughed, and for the first time, it didn’t sound nervous. It sounded hopeful.

As I was leaving the school gates, I heard someone call my name. I turned and saw Kaelen walking toward me. He held a small box wrapped in silver paper.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Just a thank you gift,” he said.
I opened it carefully. Inside was a delicate bracelet with a tiny silver feather charm. It caught the sunlight and shimmered.
“It’s beautiful,” I said softly.
“Glad you like it.”
“I love it,” I admitted. “You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to,” he interrupted, his voice gentle. “Consider it a reminder that even in places like this, good things can happen.”

I smiled, feeling warmth spread through my chest. “Thank you, Kaelen.”
He nodded once. “See you next year.” Then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of students heading for the gates.

I stood there for a moment, watching him go, then looked down at the bracelet. Somehow, it felt heavy—not in a bad way, but in a way that meant something.

This year had tested me in every possible way. I’d lost friends, gained allies, and learned how to fight for myself. I wasn’t the same girl who’d arrived at Saint Auriel scared and unsure. I was stronger now. Braver.

As I stepped through the school gates, I took a deep breath. For the first time, the air didn’t feel suffocating. It felt full of possibility.

Next year would be different. I could feel it.

But as I walked away, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and froze.

One new message.

Unknown number.

“You think it’s over?” it read.
“It’s only just beginning.”

My heart skipped a beat.

The screen went dark.