Six

Mirella’s POV

Kaelen Durov.

The name wouldn’t leave my head.

Even as I pushed food around my plate, I kept glancing toward the middle table where he sat.

He didn’t look like he belonged in a school cafeteria. He looked too sure of himself, too composed, as if everything here existed only to please him.

The other students at his table laughed easily, like they were in on a secret the rest of us weren’t worthy of.

I didn’t mean to stare, but my eyes found him again and again. Maybe it was curiosity.

Maybe it was because Iris had spoken his name like it meant something dangerous.

He was talking to one of the Legions — that’s what they called themselves — and even from here, I could see the faint curve of a smirk on his face.

His sleeves were rolled up, tie loose, posture lazy but somehow commanding.

He had that kind of arrogance that didn’t need to be loud. It was in the way people leaned toward him without him asking them to.

Then his eyes moved — straight to me.

It was like getting caught in a spotlight. My stomach tightened. For one second, I forgot how to breathe. I looked away so fast my fork clattered against my plate.

Iris noticed. “Don’t look at him,” she murmured without raising her head. “If he catches you staring, he’ll think you want something from him. And around here, that never ends well.”

I forced a small nod, even though my heart was still racing. “He looked at me first,” I said quietly.

“That’s worse,” she said, her voice dry. “You’re lucky he didn’t say anything.”

Lucky. I wasn’t sure I believed in luck anymore.

I tried to focus on eating, but my appetite was gone. The room felt louder now — laughter, clinking trays, the hum of whispers that always seemed to hide something sharp. I glanced around the cafeteria, studying people the way I used to study my mother’s guests, looking for cracks in their smiles.

Some students sat alone, eyes down, chewing quickly like they wanted to disappear. Others gathered in groups, laughing too loudly, showing off like they were auditioning for something. The hierarchy was clear — the center tables ruled, and everyone else followed.

I could already tell which group I belonged to.

The bell rang through the speakers, loud enough to make me flinch. It was the kind of sound that usually meant movement, but no one stood up. Not one chair scraped against the floor. Everyone stayed seated — except me.

I froze halfway to my feet, tray in hand, confused. Then I heard it — the whispers.

“Does she not know?”

“She’s new.”

“She’s dead.”

Iris’s eyes widened when she saw me standing. She reached up fast, grabbing my wrist and tugging me back down. “Sit,” she hissed under her breath.

“What?” I whispered back.

Her lips barely moved. “The Legions leave first.”

I blinked, trying to process that. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. Sit still.”

I sat, heat crawling up my neck as the whispers turned into quiet giggles. My pulse thudded in my ears. Around us, the Legions were still eating — slowly, deliberately, like they knew the entire room was waiting on them.

It was disgusting. Watching everyone bow in silence to a group of spoiled egos made my stomach twist. But Iris was right — this wasn’t the place to talk back. I clenched my fists under the table and stared at my tray until the scraping of chairs finally began.

The Legions were done.

They stood as one, almost like a performance. People moved out of the way without being asked. The girls fixed their hair. The boys straightened their collars. Everyone pretended not to watch them, but I could feel the tension ripple through the hall.

Then one of them — a tall blonde girl with a smirk that could cut glass — stopped right beside our table. She looked at Iris, then at me, like she was deciding whether I was worth acknowledging.

“Iris,” she said in a sweet, poisonous tone. “Keep your dog on a leash next time.”

My body went cold.

I didn’t even realize she was talking about me until I saw Iris stiffen. For a second, I expected her to say something — anything — but she just looked down, lips pressed tight.

The girl laughed softly. “Good talk,” she said, turning away.

Every muscle in me tensed. My throat burned with words I couldn’t say. I wanted to stand up, to ask her what her problem was, to tell her she didn’t scare me — but Iris’s hand brushed mine under the table, a quiet warning.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

I bit down the anger, forcing myself to stay seated. The Legion girl walked off, joining the others as if she hadn’t just called me a dog in front of everyone. My heart pounded, but no one said a word. Not even the teachers who stood by the doors, pretending they didn’t hear.

When the group reached the cafeteria exit, I finally spoke, my voice low. “You didn’t have to let her talk to you like that.”

Iris sighed. “You don’t get it yet.”

“Then explain.”

“She’s part of the first circle. The Legions control everything here — the classes, the events, even the teachers. If you want to survive, you don’t start fights you can’t win.”

“Then what? We just let them walk all over everyone?”

She looked at me then, really looked — like she wanted to say something but couldn’t. “You don’t know what they can do, Mirella. And trust me, it’s not worth finding out.”

I hated that answer. I hated how calm she sounded when she said it, like this was just how things worked and I’d better get used to it. Maybe she was right, but part of me couldn’t accept that. I’d spent years being told to stay quiet, to shrink, to not embarrass anyone. I promised myself I wouldn’t go back to that. Not here.

The Legions began walking past our table, one by one. The blonde girl didn’t look at me again, but her smirk lingered in my mind. Then I saw him — Kaelen Durov.

He wasn’t in a rush like the others. He moved at his own pace, head tilted slightly, as if he was half-listening to something no one else could hear. He was taller than I thought, his uniform sleeves still rolled up, a faint scar cutting through the side of his wrist. He passed so close I could smell his perfume — sharp, expensive, familiar.

I knew that scent. My mother used to buy it for my father every year. I hated it.

My jaw tightened. He didn’t even look at me this time. Just walked past, quiet and unreadable, like a shadow that everyone else was too afraid to touch. But somehow, even without looking, he left a mark — like he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on people.

I didn’t move until the cafeteria emptied out. Iris stood, stretching her arms like nothing had happened.

“Ready for class?” she asked casually.

I looked toward the door where the Legions had disappeared. My chest felt heavy, but underneath the weight, something else started to stir.

Not fear.

Something sharper.

“I will be,” I said.

Iris gave me a strange look but didn’t press further. She slung her bag over her shoulder and started walking.

As I followed her out, the whispers began again — faint, cautious.

“That’s the new girl.”

“She stood before the Leg

ions.”

“She doesn’t know what she’s done.”

I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to. I already knew who they were talking about.