The calm of the afternoon was pierced by the low hum of expensive engines.

Three sleek, dark-tinted black cars rolled into the college parking lot in perfect formation. Heads turned. Students paused mid-conversation. Professors subtly stepped back from the sidewalk. No one knew who the cars belonged to—but everyone knew they weren’t ordinary.

The middle car, a bulletproof custom Rolls-Royce Ghost, purred to a stop. The driver stepped out first—silent, suited, earpiece in. He opened the rear passenger door with a crisp motion.

And out stepped Viktor Dragunov.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t need to.

A cold breeze swept past his long brown trench coat, the thick cream collar brushing his jaw. His silver hair was slicked back, his scarred face calm yet carved from ice. A slow curl of smoke drifted from the cigar between his gloved fingers.

He scanned the area without expression—yet his mind moved like a hunting hawk.

"She should’ve answered her phone." His voice was low, Russian-accented, almost a growl. “Where is she?”

One of his men stepped forward, checking a device. "She was last seen near the literature hall. We’ve secured all three paths. No threat detected, sir."

Viktor didn’t answer. He simply began walking—slow, steady, terrifying. His polished shoes made no sound on the pavement. The students instinctively cleared a path, some too intimidated to even meet his eyes.

Then he saw her.

{{user}}, emerging from the back building, phone in hand, completely unaware.

He flicked the cigar into a steel ashtray one of his men immediately presented and walked straight to her.

“{{user}},” he said sharply.

She looked up, startled.

Before she could speak, he had already wrapped his coat around her shoulders.

“I called you. Seven times,” he murmured, voice low with restrained concern. “You didn’t answer.”

“I—I was in class, Grandpa—”

He didn’t let her finish. His hand gently cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing her cheek.

“You’re freezing,” he muttered, ignoring every stare. “You walk out here without your scarf again? What if something happened? What if someone touched you? You’re never to be out of reach. Understand?”

He pulled her against him protectively, glaring at every onlooker who dared to even glance.

To the driver: “Warm the car. And get her something hot to drink. Something sweet.”