Chapter 19 - He Knows
Sam's POV
When I woke up, my chest still ached like I’d been running in my sleep. My head throbbed, too, but it wasn’t from lack of rest. It was from the words I couldn’t forget.
I know you’re not who you say you are.
Elias had whispered it in the dark, so quiet I could have convinced myself I dreamed it. Except I knew I didn’t. Every syllable had branded itself into my brain, looping endlessly until I wanted to claw my ears shut.
He knew. Or at least, he suspected.
I kept my eyes closed as long as I could, hoping if I stayed still enough, I’d hear him stirring, maybe catch him moving around and prove he was awake when he’d said it. But all I heard was the soft rhythm of his breathing, steady and calm, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
When I finally opened my eyes, sunlight bled weakly through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the room. Elias was still in bed, turned toward the window, one arm folded under his head. His hair was a mess, dark strands sticking up in every direction, but of course he still looked annoyingly good.
I tried not to think about the fact that this was the first time I’d seen him asleep. Vulnerable. Human.
Because what mattered more was the knot twisting tighter in my gut: Elias might know my secret.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, replaying every second of last night. The way he’d looked at me, the way he’d touched my wrist, the way his voice had dipped just before I crawled back under the blanket. He hadn’t been taunting me. He’d been warning me. Testing me.
And if he figured it out…
I bit my lip hard enough to taste copper. No. He couldn’t. If Elias really knew, he’d already told someone. Right? That’s what people did when they discovered a fraud in their midst. Especially in a place like this, where secrets were currency and betrayal was practically sport.
Still, the doubt gnawed at me.
I threw off the blanket, the sudden chill biting at my skin, and sat up fast. My movements jolted Elias awake. His eyes cracked open, hazy with sleep before sharpening in seconds, locking onto me like he’d been expecting me to move first.
“Morning,” he said, his voice rougher than usual.
I nodded stiffly. “Morning.”
His gaze lingered longer than it should have, tracing my face, my posture, the nervous way I fidgeted with the hem of my hoodie. It felt like he was cataloging every tell, every slip.
I couldn’t take it. I grabbed my bag and pretended to rummage for something, anything, just to keep busy.
“You look like hell,” Elias remarked, stretching lazily. His shirt rode up an inch, revealing a line of muscle that I immediately forced myself not to notice. “Bad dreams?”
I froze. Bad dreams. Or bad memories. The kind that replayed with such detail they bled into waking life.
“I guess,” I muttered.
His lips quirked in a way that didn’t match his eyes. His eyes were sharp, searching. “Funny. You don’t strike me as the type who dreams.”
“Everyone dreams,” I shot back before I could stop myself.
He smirked, sitting up now, elbows resting on his knees. “Not like you.”
I zipped my bag shut too loudly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He tilted his head, studying me. The silence stretched so long I thought he might not answer, but then he said, “It means you walk around like your whole life depends on keeping a straight face. Like one wrong word will give you away.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t.
I forced out a laugh, brittle and sharp. “You really love reading into people, don’t you?”
“Only the ones worth reading.”
The room suddenly felt too small, the walls pressing in, the air too heavy to breathe. I slung my bag over my shoulder and moved for the door.
“I’m going to breakfast,” I said quickly.
“Without me?” His voice was teasing, but there was something underneath it. Something that didn’t sound like a joke at all.
I didn’t look back. If I did, I was sure he’d see the panic written all over me.
The cafeteria buzzed with the usual chaos—boys shouting across tables, the clatter of trays, the smell of burnt coffee and too much syrup. Normally, the noise helped drown out my thoughts, but not today. Not when every word Elias had spoken replayed in my head.
I slid into a corner seat with my plate of toast, hoping to disappear, but of course luck wasn’t on my side.
Declan and his pack strolled in like they owned the place. Declan’s laugh rang louder than the rest, his arm slung casually around one of his cronies. He scanned the room with that predator’s gaze of his, and I ducked my head, praying he wouldn’t notice me.
He didn’t. Not this time. But the way his eyes swept over the cafeteria made my stomach churn. He was always hunting, even if no one else realized it.
And if Elias started talking, if Elias told him there was something off about me—
I shoved the toast into my mouth even though it tasted like cardboard. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let Elias ruin everything I’d worked for.
Back in the dorm later, I found him leaning against his bed, headphones around his neck, tapping idly at his phone. He looked up when I walked in, eyes narrowing just slightly, like he’d been waiting for me.
“You didn’t wait for me,” he said.
“You were still asleep.”
“Was I?” His tone was casual, but there was a glint in his eyes that told me he knew exactly what he was doing—keeping me on edge, pushing me into corners I couldn’t wriggle out of.
I dropped my bag on my bed, forcing calm into my voice. “What do you want from me, Elias?”
His brows lifted, slow, deliberate. “Interesting question. What makes you think I want something?”
“Because you keep… watching me. Asking questions. Making comments like you know something I don’t. It’s exhausting.”
He leaned back, resting his hands behind his head, utterly at ease while my insides were on fire. “Maybe I do know something.”
The air left my lungs. “Like what?”
His gaze locked onto mine, steady and unblinking. “Like the fact that you’re hiding. You pretend you’re just another guy trying to survive this place, but your eyes say different. Your silence says different. Every time you open your mouth, I hear the truth you’re not saying.”
The room spun. My nails dug into my palms, leaving crescent-shaped dents. “You don’t know me,” I whispered.
He smiled faintly, but it wasn’t cruel. It was curious. Dangerous. “Not yet.”
I turned away, desperate to break his hold on me, but his voice followed. Soft. Cutting.
“One day, Hale, I’m going to find out who you really are.”
My chest squeezed so tight it hurt to breathe. I wanted to scream at him, deny it, laugh it off. But I couldn’t. Not when he was staring at me like that—like he already knew.
I yanked the blanket off my bed and shoved it under my arm. “I’m taking a nap in the common room,” I muttered, though my voice cracked halfway through.
He didn’t stop me. He didn’t have to. Because as I slammed the door behind me, his words echoed louder than ever.
I know you’re not who you say you are.
And this time, I couldn’t convince myself I imagined it.
Hours later, when I finally returned to the dorm, Elias was gone. His bed was empty, the lamp off, the air still holding the faint trace of his cologne. For a brief, dizzy moment, relief washed over me. Maybe I had time to figure out what to do.
Then I saw it.
My notebook. The one I kept hidden under the mattress. It wasn’t where I left it. It was on my desk, slightly askew, as if someone had been flipping through it and set it down in a hurry.
My blood went cold.
And in that instant, I knew: Elias wasn’t just suspicious anymore. He was looking.