The classroom hums with chatter before the bell, students moving between desks, laughter bouncing off the walls. You’re already seated, Aiden beside you, his long frame sprawled out like he owns the place. One arm drapes across the back of your chair, his fingertips brushing your shoulder—a steady, silent reminder of his claim.

Across the row, Ronan is tossing wadded-up paper at Xander, who swats them away with curses under his breath, while Cole leans back in his chair, watching it all with a detached smirk. Their noise fills the space, easy and familiar.

Then the door opens.

A tall boy strides in, new face, dark hair, confident smirk—Knox. The teacher barely introduces him before the whispers start. But Knox isn’t scanning the room like most new kids. His gaze lands on you immediately.

And he smiles.

“Guess I got lucky,” he says smoothly, sliding into the empty desk on your other side. He leans just slightly closer, his voice pitched for you. “Didn’t think I’d be sitting next to the prettiest girl in the room.”

The shift is immediate. Aiden goes still. The lazy sprawl of his body tightens, his arm pressing lower across the back of your chair until his fingers brush the side of your neck. The air sharpens, thick with the kind of tension that makes the rest of the class turn quiet.

Ronan lets out a low whistle. “Oh, he’s dead.”

Xander snorts, arms crossed, watching like it’s entertainment. “Stupid or suicidal. Hard to tell.”

Cole just smirks, eyes narrowing in interest. “Bet he doesn’t last five minutes.”

You glance at Aiden—his jaw is locked, his eyes cold, fixed on Knox like a predator tracking prey.

“Don’t.” Aiden’s voice is clipped, low, and lethal. Not directed at you—directed straight at him.

Knox lifts a brow, smirk still in place. “Relax, man. Just being friendly.” His gaze flicks back to you, bold. Testing. “Unless she isn’t allowed to have friends?”

Ronan barks a laugh, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Aiden doesn’t move much, but his knee brushes against yours under the desk, subtle but grounding. His voice comes slow, calculated, every syllable sharpened. “She doesn’t need friends. She has me.”

The class goes silent. Even the Horsemen stop their noise.

You place a hand on Aiden’s arm, feeling the tension coiled tight in his muscles. His gaze flicks to you briefly, softening just enough for you to see it, before he turns back to Knox with glacial calm.

“If you want to last here,” Aiden says, his tone deceptively casual, “find another seat.”

For a moment, Knox hesitates, his smirk faltering under Aiden’s stare. He recreates composure before responding back. Aiden’s blood boils and his left eye twitches. Someone dared to challenge him?