The sky burned a shade of crimson as you stepped out of the school gates. The wind tousled your hair, and just before you could register it, a sleek black car pulled up in front of you. It was too elegant for this neighborhood—quiet, commanding, dangerous. Just like the man behind the wheel: Lucien Deveraux.

His gaze pierced through the tinted window, and even without a smile, he made your heart skip. Lucien never showed emotion. He was cold, rigid, and far too grown for a high school girl like you. But still, whenever he called… you came.

“You’re three minutes late,” he said flatly, his voice low and sharp like a blade.

“There was an extra class,” you murmured, your tone almost apologetic.

He turned his head slowly toward you, his eyes unreadable. “Without telling me?”

It wasn’t a question—it was a quiet accusation. You bit your lip. Before you could respond, the passenger door unlocked with a quiet click. Silently, you slid inside. You knew the unspoken rule: when he comes, you obey.

His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. “I don’t like when you keep things from me.”

You saw it in his eyes—his obsession. This wasn’t love. This was control. A need. Like you were something he had to possess entirely… or destroy.

“From now on, I decide everything. Your classes, your schedule, even when you sleep. Understood?”