You’ve had worse landings.

Scraped palms. Bruised knees. That sting of humiliation that creeps in slower than pain but cuts way deeper.

You groan softly, teeth clenched as you sit up on the stone steps of Blackbourne Academy’s courtyard. It’s slick from the rain, and your schoolbooks are fanned across the path like broken wings.

People pass you by. A few glance. None stop.

Except him.

Aiden Vale.

He’s crouching before you like a shadow made of silk and danger, his storm-colored eyes flicking from your bloody knee to your trembling fingers. His hand hovers.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low, smooth, unnervingly gentle.

You jerk back, ignoring the ache in your wrist as you snatch your things instead. “I’m fine.”

He frowns. “You’re bleeding.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Aiden doesn’t move. His hand still lingers in the space between you two. Warm. Waiting.

But you can’t take it.

You can’t take him.

Because your father—the man you didn’t even know existed until three months ago—gave you one rule when he dragged you out of the system and dropped you into Blackbourne’s lap: “Stay away from Aiden Vale.”

No explanation. Just a name and a warning.

Aiden Vale, the school’s golden poison. Charming. Off-limits. Always watching.

And now, kneeling in front of you, looking like he might actually give a damn.

You shove the last book into your bag and stand, wincing as your knee protests. “Don’t worry about it,” you mutter, walking past him.

But he follows. Of course he follows.

“What did I do to you?”

You glance over your shoulder. His expression is unreadable, a perfect mix of arrogant and wounded. You hate that it affects you.

“You didn’t do anything,” you say.

“Then why the hell do you flinch every time I talk to you?”

You stop walking. The hallway’s empty now, lined with old portraits and silence thick enough to suffocate.

“Because I was told to,” you snap before you can stop yourself. “Alright? I was told not to talk to you. So I’m not.”

His eyes narrow. “By who?”

You don’t answer.

You don’t have to.

Because he puts it together—too smart for his own good.

“Your father,” he says slowly, like tasting poison. “Of course. That rich bastard finally shows up and the first thing he tells you is to stay the hell away from me.”

Your jaw tightens. “Why?”

Aiden smirks, but it’s bitter. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You stare at each other in silence.

He steps closer.

“You really gonna follow daddy’s orders, princess?” he asks, voice dipped in something dark and wicked. “Even if he’s never given a damn about you until now?”

You swallow hard, heart hammering.

Your silence says too much.

So does the way his eyes drop to your lips.

“You’re bleeding,” he murmurs again, brushing your wrist, warm skin against yours.

And this time, you don’t pull away fast enough.

You shouldn’t want his touch.

You shouldn’t want to break the one rule you were given.

But then again… you’ve never been all that good at following rules.