Page 4 of Secrets Of Blackwood
Whispering in my mind, his words echo, “Anytime, Lily.”
* * *
DAMIEN
Its shrill tone slices through the cacophony of student chatter, dismissing academic duties and heralding the social battleground that awaits in after-school life. I’m a silent sentinel amidst the chaos, my mind a fortress against the meaningless banter of hormonal teens. I can feel their eyes on me, sense their whispered speculations as I weave through the crowd with purpose, each step assert of my presence.
“Damien Blackwood,” they murmur, “untouchable.”
They are right in ways that are beyond their comprehension. They see the facade—the power, the allure—but not the jagged scars that decorate my soul like grotesque tattoos. No one does. No one but—
* * *
LILY
Everyone shares a secret, his name, an unspoken promise on their lips. Damien. The air shifts when he moves, the crowd parting for him, the king of this concrete jungle. My skin prickles with awareness every time his gaze sweeps the room, never lingering, always searching—until now.
With a low and commanding voice that makes my heart trip over itself, he says, “Wait.” Just one word, and I’m rooted to the spot, caught in the gravitational pull of those piercing gray eyes.
I wonder where you think you’re going.” he asks, and I wonder how someone so enigmatic could bother with someone like me.
“Home,” I reply, surprised at my steadiness. There’s a tremor in my voice, but it’s cloaked well enough.
“Without saying goodbye?” He smirks, and it’s like watching nightfall—beautiful and terrifying.
“Goodbye, then,” I retort, summoning a courage I didn’t know I had.
“See you tomorrow, Lily.” His certainty unnerves me; it’s like he knows something I don’t.
DAMIEN
“See you tomorrow,” I echo her words, but they taste like a lie on my tongue. Tomorrow is a luxury I can’t afford, not with the shadows that cling to my every move.
As I watch her leave, I feel a tightness in my chest, a worry similar to that of a parent. She’s too delicate for the world she’s stumbled into, too pure for the filth that lines these halls—and my past.
While my attention is snagged by a sudden shift in the atmosphere, I scan the periphery with my eyes. There, Alexander Sinclair leans against a locker with an ease that screams privilege, his green eyes fixed on Lily’s retreating figure, an unmistakable interest etched into his chiseled features.
There is something dark coiling within me, a combination of anger and something more primal. The sight of him, the way his gaze lingers on what is not—cannot—be his, ignites a fire inside me that’s been dormant for far too long.
“Enjoying the view, Blackwood?” he calls out, his voice dripping with a challenge I’m all too familiar with.
“Nothing worth seeing,” I shoot back, my words a blade aimed straight at his arrogance.
“Keep telling yourself that,” he taunts, pushing off from the locker and sauntering away, leaving me with the imprint of his smirk and the unsettling knowledge that the game has changed.
Lily is no longer just the new girl. She’s become the prize in a dangerous game played by two men who have mastered the art of concealing their true intentions behind masks of charm and indifference. But beneath it all lies a truth neither of us can escape.
And as I stand there, watching Alexander’s retreating form, I can’t shake the feeling that the very ground we walk on is about to fracture beneath us, threatening to swallow us whole into the dark abyss that lurks just beneath the surface.
2
Chapter Two
DAMIEN
Ilean against the cool stone of the academy’s ancient wall, the clamor of chattering students fading into a dull roar against my senses. My eyes, a stark shade of gray that often unnerves those who dare to meet them, sweep over the courtyard with practiced vigilance. I’m always watchful, always ready. Chaos has a way of brewing before it erupts, and here, in this den of young wolves jockeying for position, the scent of impending trouble is as common as the perfume of blooming cherry blossoms that line the walkways.
The sun casts its golden glow across the cobbled stones, creating a mosaic of light and shadow that dances across the faces of oblivious students. They’re caught up in their own dramas, ignorant of the predators hiding among them. A prickle of tension runs down my spine—a feeling I’ve come to trust. It’s the silent alarm that something is amiss.