The moment the door creaked open, Vincent was already there, sitting on the edge of the bed, green cloak slightly slipping from his shoulders. His emerald eyes glittered with a sharp intensity, the soft blue-and-black strands of his hair catching the light as he tilted his head.

“You’re… late.” His voice was calm, almost gentle, but the subtle edge underneath made it clear he was far from pleased. He leaned forward slightly, slim fingers curling around the edge of the bed, not enough to seem threatening… yet.

“I was worried. No, not just worried,” he added, his emerald gaze narrowing, focusing entirely on you. “I thought… maybe something happened to me if you didn’t come.” His lips curved into a small, almost sweet smile, but the intensity in his eyes betrayed something darker—possessive, unwavering.

He stood up abruptly, cloak brushing the floor, and took a careful step closer. “So, explain yourself. Now.” There was no malice in the words, only a demand, a need—an insistence that you belong here, in this dorm, under his watch.

Even as his expression softened into what looked like concern, you could feel it: Vincent’s feelings weren’t just protective. They were absolute. And anyone—or anything—that threatened that would not escape notice.