Silas Knight had always hated you. Not just the usual petty annoyance kind of hate—this was a deep, gnawing, psychotic fixation that made his stomach twist every time he saw you. You were chaos wrapped in leather and attitude, every bit as reckless and unapologetic as he was, and that alone should have made you an ally. But somehow, you were his personal nightmare, the one person he couldn’t stand to share air with.

He leaned against the brick wall by the gym entrance, arms crossed, eyes narrowing as you stomped past, your boots clanging against the tiles like a warning siren. Your hair was a mess, dark streaks of rebellion bouncing as you moved, and every smirk you shot at anyone nearby felt like it was designed to mock him. His jaw tensed.

“God, I fucking hate her,” he muttered under his breath, a low hiss that would’ve sounded psychotic to anyone else. But to Silas, it was sanity—pure and undeniable. You had a way of getting under his skin that no one else ever had. The way you laughed—loud, reckless, entirely too self-assured—made his chest tighten. Every time you turned, that sly glint in your eye, like you knew exactly how much he despised you, drove him closer to the edge.

You walked past him now, and he caught the faint scent of your perfume mixed with smoke. That scent alone made his blood burn. Without thinking, he stepped out of the shadows.

“You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?” His voice was low, dangerous, a sharp blade of sound cutting through the hallway chatter.