She was zoning out again.
At first, I thought she was just bored. Staring a little too long at the wall, letting the conversation wash over her like she was half-listening. That wasn't unusual. I'd seen her do it during lunch, in class, walking the halls. Her thoughts drifted a lot.
But this time… it was different.
She wasn't just thinking. She was gone.
Her shoulders tensed. Her fingers curled into the sleeves of her sweater like she was hiding something—maybe a shake. Her expression didn't change much, but I saw it. The corners of her mouth were too tight. Her breathing had that quiet, uneven rhythm I recognized. Controlled panic.
Karina was pretending to be fine.
And she was very good at pretending.
I stayed a few feet behind her, leaning against the wall like I was just another student wasting time. It was easier that way. Most people ignored me. I made sure of it.
But I watched.
She wasn't acting normal.
I wasn't allowed to ask. The contract her father made me sign was very clear: no unnecessary interference, no emotional involvement. I wasn't supposed to comfort her or talk her down or even let her know I noticed.
"Protect her," he said. "From everything."
He hadn't mentioned what to do when she was the one breaking.
I looked on as she tried to rejoin the conversation. She forced a laugh. It came a second too late. Her timing was off. Her smile didn't reach her eyes.
Still pretending.
Still spiraling under the surface.
And I could see it all.
She started acting strange right after we saw the new students. Lev, Viktor, Nadya. Something about them had rattled her. She'd gone quiet the moment we stepped away.
I only caught a few words of what they said.
My Russian isn't strong. Just fragments. Enough to survive a hostile conversation, not enough to understand layered meanings.
But I caught one word.
Цель.
Target.
And the way Lev said it… that stuck.
I hate disadvantages.
I especially hate them when they involve her.
I glanced down the hallway, but they were gone.
Vanished into the crowd like they were never here.
But for now, I kept my eyes on Karina.
She stood there, still smiling, still acting like nothing was wrong. Her friends were chatting, laughing. She even joined in.
But I could tell.
Her whole body was still tense. Like she was ready to run or snap or collapse.
No one else noticed.
But I did.
And maybe she didn't want anyone to.
That was fine.
I wouldn't say anything.
Wouldn't ask.
Wouldn't comfort.
But I watched her.
Always.
Because whether she liked it or not, I wasn't here to make her feel better.
I was here to protect her.
From them.
From threats.
And, if I had to… from herself.
The bell rang. The low hum of students started to rise as everyone packed up their things, heading for the door. I stayed back, leaning against the wall by the exit, my eyes fixed on Karina as she grabbed her things from her locker. She had that same distant look on her face again, like the moment the last bell rang, she was already halfway out of this place—mentally, at least.
I couldn't help but watch her as she moved. Her back stiffened slightly every time someone bumped into her, but she said nothing. She didn't even seem to notice. It was almost like she was invisible in plain sight.
Her friends—Cassie, Freya, and Aline—were laughing, chatting with each other as they headed out, their voices blending into the usual school noise. I stayed on the edge of it, like I always did.
My eyes never left her.
She wasn't acting normal.
Not since the new students arrived.
I'd been trying to focus on everything—on her, on them—but the last part of the day felt like a blur. Every time Karina would try to rejoin the conversation, it felt forced. Too quick, too light, too wrong. Her friends didn't notice. They never did. They thought she was just being Karina.
But I knew.
I watched her grab her bag, throw it over her shoulder. She hesitated for a second, looking back toward the hallway like she was thinking of something—or maybe someone. But she turned away quickly. If she was thinking about the new students again, it didn't show.
The hallway started to clear, the rush of students flooding out into the courtyard, ready to head home. Karina moved, and I followed.
She didn't glance back at me, but I didn't expect her to. I stayed a few steps behind, a shadow in the crowd. My job was to keep my distance while staying close enough to react if something went wrong.
I watched as she left the building, her head down, moving toward the school gates. She was trying to keep up appearances, putting on that mask for everyone else. But I could tell she wasn't really here—not completely.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I didn't check it immediately. I knew who it was. It was her father's office, giving me the usual end-of-day instructions. I'd check it later, when she wasn't in sight.
For now, I had to focus.
I'd followed her outside, where the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the courtyard. Karina stopped near the school entrance, glancing up at the sky for a moment.
She was lost in thought again.
I kept my distance as she walked, making sure I didn't get too close. She'd never liked the feeling of being watched, even if it was necessary. I stayed close, though, alert. Her father had insisted on this, and I wasn't about to let him down.
But I couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something was off.
The Russian students, Lev, Viktor, Nadya—something about them felt wrong. It wasn't just what they said, it was how they moved, how they observed. The whole situation felt like a puzzle with pieces that didn't quite fit.
And Karina? She was the center of it all. Her father's protection, her father's control, her father's plans. I didn't know how deeply involved she was in this, or how much she understood. But I had to keep her safe, no matter what.
The wind picked up slightly, carrying the rustling of leaves through the air as Karina finally turned a corner, heading down the street. Her movements were quick, purposeful, but I could still see the tension in her posture. She wasn't free. She hadn't been free in a long time.
I followed her until she reached her building, then stopped a few yards behind as she went inside.
She was safe for now.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.
The apartment lights flickered faintly when I stepped inside. I locked the door behind me, letting silence settle into the room like an old habit. It was small, furnished just enough to function—bed, desk, phone, and a worn chair I'd never bothered to replace.
I dropped my bag by the door and sat down, stretching my legs out in front of me. My shoulder cracked, and I rolled it out with a tired exhale.
I pulled out my phone.
Two missed calls. One from the office. One from a number I didn't recognize.
Didn't matter. I called the number I knew I had to answer.
It rang twice before someone picked up.
"Xander," came the clipped voice on the other end. Male. Stern. Not her father, but close—his assistant, most likely. One of the handlers.
"I'm reporting in," I said, leaning back in the chair. "She's home. Unbothered. No immediate threats."
A pause.
"Did she interact with the new students?"
I hesitated. "Not directly. She saw them. Observed. They didn't approach her."
"They will," the voice said flatly.
I didn't like the certainty in his tone.
"She doesn't know anything yet," I said. "But she's suspicious. I can tell. She's overthinking everything. The new arrivals rattled her."
Another pause.
"That's not your concern. Your job is to observe and protect. Not engage. Do not interfere. You understand?"
"I signed the contract," I said simply.
That was all I needed to say.
"And the Russian?" the voice asked.
"I caught some. Not enough. I'm working on it."
"Work faster," he snapped. "We believe Lev, Viktor, and Nadya are here for a reason. They're not regular students, and they weren't assigned here randomly. You need to keep your eyes on them. Especially Lev."
Lev. The blond one. Platinum hair, eyes like frost. The one who said цель—target.
"Understood," I said.
"And Karina?" The tone shifted slightly, more calculating. "Any changes?"
"She's not acting like herself. She's pretending too much. Zoning out. Overthinking. Could be nothing, could be the beginning of something."
"Don't let her fall apart," he said, like she was a project, not a person. "She doesn't know why she needs protection, and she must not find out. That's not negotiable."
"I know," I said, jaw clenched.
"Then do your job."
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone for a moment before setting it down on the table.
I hated this part.
They expected me to be a wall. A weapon. Emotionless. Detached.
But I wasn't blind.
Karina was more than a contract, more than a name on a page. She was angry. Caged. Sharp in the way people who've never been free often are. And she was hurting—quietly, deliberately—like she didn't want anyone to know.
But I knew.
And I was going to protect her.
Even if it meant lying to her.
Even if it meant lying to myself.