You’re halfway down the corridor, minding your business, when you feel it—that familiar prickle on the back of your neck. The one that always means he’s watching you.

You don’t turn around. You don’t have to.

“What, Riddle?” you say, annoyance dripping from every syllable as you stop beside a stone pillar.

Mattheo steps out of the shadow like he was waiting for that exact moment. Arms folded. That stupid smirk playing on his mouth.

“Oh nothing…” he says, tilting his head. “Just wondering… how’s the boyfriend?”

You let out a long, exhausted sigh. “He got over it.”

Mattheo’s smirk deepens. “I’m not surprised. They always do.”

Your eyes snap up to his. “And why do you care so much?”

He takes a step toward you—slow, deliberate—his voice dropping into that low, dangerous hum that always makes your stomach twist.

“Because,” he murmurs, “it’s fun watching them think they ever really had a chance with my girl.”

Your breath catches. Excuse him?

“Excuse me? Your girl?”

“That’s what I said.” His eyes flick down to your lips, unapologetically.

You cross your arms. “Last time I checked, I didn’t belong to anyone… especially you.”

Mattheo laughs softly. A dark, knowing sound. He closes the final bit of space between you, caging you gently against the cold stone.

“Hm… see that’s where you’re wrong,” he whispers, brushing a knuckle down your jaw.

His breath hits your ear, sending a shiver up your spine.

“You’ve always been,” he murmurs, “and will always be mine… Trouble.”

Your heart betrays you—skipping, stuttering, reacting exactly how he knew it would.

And Mattheo? He just smiles.