Chapter 4
“D o you remember the rules?” Dad said over the phone.
I rushed out of the small private airport where a line of black cabs stood, each with a Pantheon University flag fluttering in the breeze. I’d been ready for this day my entire life.
“Yes. No alcohol. No drugs. No boys. Stay safe,” I repeated. Reading each sign held by the chauffeurs, I searched for my name.
I’d followed my father’s rules for eighteen years—complying with his six o’clock curfew, refraining from sleepovers at friends’ houses, and committing Sundays to our church choir. I’d spent my childhood confined inside our home and finally had a chance to be on my own.
“She’s still a virgin, Bruno. One day, she’ll have a taste of it, and you won’t be able to hold the girl back,” Grandma chimed in, not helping. “Have fun, my flower!”
“Mother, don’t put ideas like that into her innocent head,” Dad complained. They were arguing as if I wasn’t part of the conversation.
“I promise you have nothing to worry about.” I chuckled, waving at my assigned chauffeur before climbing into the cab. “Dad? Grandma?”
“Dalia? Text… Back… Arrive. It seems that … Dalia?”
“Yes, I’ll text you back, I promise,” I rushed to add right before the call ended, the reception breaking up.
The chauffeur adjusted his rearview mirror and fixed his gaze on me. “To enhance security, network access is restricted on the island. It’s under high surveillance,” he explained.
The island, no more than fifteen kilometers in length, was nestled between Normandy and England. The thunderous percussion of waves crashing against the cliffs was like a steady anthem. Inhabited by only a few locals, the whole island revolved around Pantheon University.
“We’re waiting for another student who should be here in—” He winced, then straightened his attire.
The back door opened, and a student with gold earrings and a rainbow-colored dress hurried into the back seat beside me. I quickly moved my violin case, fearing she might crush it, and scooted toward the window. She was very much the opposite of me: her wavy brown hair flowed freely, yet she still managed to look effortlessly gorgeous with thick eyelashes and a tan I could only dream of. She dragged her black cat along in a crate.
A rush of excitement formed in my stomach. This was my opportunity to make my first friend.
“It took me an hour to get through customs.” She gestured with her hands like a scarecrow. “I’m Yasmine. I hope you’re not allergic to cats?”
“No,” I replied, though I paused, realizing it was my turn to introduce myself. I loudly blurted, “I’m Dalia.”
Note to self: don’t scream when introducing yourself; people aren’t deaf like Grandma, and they might be frightened.
She took the black cat out of the crate, and it promptly landed on my lap, staring at me as if attempting to peer into my soul. I met its gaze without blinking.
“En route to Pantheon University,” the chauffeur announced, departing from the airport.
“Music student, huh? I’m studying the classics,” Yasmine said, and when I nodded affirmatively, she pointed at her cat. “His name is Baron, and he’s my mental support cat. My parents don’t believe I’ll survive the college experience alone.”
“I know all about having an overprotective parent.” I chuckled, petting her cat. “My dad wasn’t excited about the idea either, but Pantheon is so selective, it’s perfectly safe.”
The university selected its students from the world’s wealthiest and most influential families, including mine. Acceptance was granted only by reference; its elitism and opportunities were the reason it was every student’s dream to be accepted here.
“Safe?” She snorted. “It’s the den of sharks battling to be the leaders of tomorrow. But yeah, since the terrorist attack ten years ago—you know, the one that targeted the French president’s son—they’ve closed access to the public. No more tourists, except for the annual events hosted by Pantheon. Hello, they even have their own airport—it’s crazy. Plus, I’m a scholarship student. We’re like school weeds here. I bet you’re not here on scholarship, are you?”
My stomach twitched, but I ignored it. “No, but I don’t care if you’re a scholarship student.”
Yasmine’s cat scratched my bag with its paw and stuck its nose inside.
“Thanks.” She picked up her cat. “Baron, don’t be so impolite!”
“Oh, he probably smelled Grandma’s pastries.” I reached into my bag and showed Yasmine a full bag of cookies. “Would you like one? She told me to give one to all the kind people I meet.”
She selected a cookie from the bag and bit into it before grimacing. “You didn’t meet many kind people on your way here, did you?”
“Do you want one?” I offered the chauffeur while Yasmine rolled down the window to toss it out.
“I’ll have to decline, judging by your friend’s reaction.”
My eyes widened, feeling as though I had just poisoned my first friend.
“I think your grandma intended those cookies for people you dislike,” Yasmine said, still coughing. “They taste awful.”
That sounded more like Grandma. “I’m so sorry, Yasmine. I feel terrible.”
We burst into laughter while Baron lunged forward to devour the crumbs.
The chauffeur cleared his throat. “We’re arriving.”
We both leaned out of my window to see the university’s spikes rising into the sky, emerging from the fog. The vibrant green grass looked as if it had soaked up the rain for months. My heart raced with impatience. The last time I’d come here, it was with Mom. The stone buildings, covered in ivy, stretched out just as vast and imposing as I remembered. From where I stood, I could pick out the rusty blue of the opera house’s dome.
“It’s like living in an Emily Bront? book,” Yasmine commented.
“Or hearing the ‘Toccata and Fugue in D minor,’” I whispered.
We crossed the ironwork arch, embracing the institution’s name and motto: Prestige. Mastery. Valor.
“Come, Baron.” Yasmine put her cat back in his crate, then turned to me. “You know, I have a feeling we’re going to end up in the same house. We were already assigned a cab together, and Pantheon never does things without a plan.”
The car halted, and the driver opened the back door. I retrieved my backpack and carefully stowed my violin inside.
“Well, I wish you a successful academic year,” the chauffeur said to both of us with a thin smile. “I’ll take one of those atrocious treats, actually. I have a colleague I dislike.”
“Oh.” I offered him the bag. “Please take everything.”
He took it reluctantly, and I adjusted the strap of my leather satchel.
“We should go inside,” Yasmine urged, already slipping into the crowd of formally dressed students. “The ceremony is about to start!”
I didn’t have time to question my outfit—a top adorned with lace and white hearts, a pink skirt, and knee-high socks—as I trailed her into the main quad.
The high vaulted ceilings of the foyer soared overhead, and a shiver ran down my spine. The air within the dark corridors carried a chilly touch even in summer. Portraits of successful alumni lined the walls, with emblems proudly representing the four university houses. Today’s opening ceremony would reveal the results of the admission test—known to be one of the most efficient psychological tests out there—and assign us to our respective houses.
Paths connected the many colleges—some more modern and some from the medieval Gothic period with gargoyles leering from their perches. It felt like the bustling center of a dark fairy-tale town.
My heart quickened, pulsating at an allegro vivace tempo as we neared the opera house. It had been under construction for the past nine years since the attack Yasmine spoke of. When I’d heard the opera house might be fully renovated this year and that the Winter Orchestra could happen again, I’d gone ahead and secretly applied to Pantheon. I’d clung to every bit of hope I could find.
The opera house looked like a Pantheon of gods with its Grecian columns. Next to them was a sculpture of a plaque in the form of an open book with the victims’ names. My gaze swept over all twenty-seven of them, my stomach churning. I had to text Dad.
I stopped in my tracks. I still didn’t have a signal, but I spotted a network named Pantheon_Wifi without a password. Seems promising.
Yasmine halted abruptly, noticing I wasn’t behind her. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to connect to the Wi-Fi. I need to text my dad back before he sends the research troupes on me.”
“If you value your privacy even slightly, do not connect to that Wi-Fi,” she warned in a matter-of-fact tone. “For an okay 5G signal, you should head by the dorms or library.”
“Why?” I chuckled. We weren’t in high school anymore. Surely, we were allowed to use our phones?
Leaning in, Yasmine glanced around cautiously. “Look, my sister warned me about this guy who’s a third-year student and some kind of genius. Word is that he’s hacked the Wi-Fi since his first day here, and if you connect yourself to the Wi-Fi, he’ll have all your information.”
I gulped, parting my lips. “How can he get away with that?”
“Don’t know, but the prospect of having your darkest secrets blackmailed doesn’t sound like a good way to start the year even though it’s unlikely he’ll focus on you.”
“So you expect me to believe there’s some cyborg maniac lurking around here?”
“And you just fell right under his radar,” a gravelly voice interjected from behind. I felt his shadow closing in on me on the grass.
Yasmine’s eyes were wide open, the colors draining from her face.
“Cat lost your tongue, little thief?” the voice taunted once more.
Little thief.
My muscles tensed. My heart pounded in erratic rhythms. The world seemed to shrink; even the air seemed hard to breathe. It took superhuman strength to reel around to face the ghost of my past.
Levi Delombre.
He was all grown up now, and he was here.
“Remember me?” His crooked, self-satisfied grin was threatening enough not to remember. “I sure do.”
His unwavering silver gaze met mine, void of vulnerability, exuding a coldness that seemed to drain them of soul. Strands of his raven-black hair cascaded onto his forehead, and it felt like my heart had crashed to the ground. His cheekbones were as sharp as a knife. He was even taller than he used to be, and his hollow cheeks looked even more visible. Yet he was still so similar to Lucie—the same fine traits and graceful beauty, except, in Levi’s case, that beauty was infused with darkness.
“You’re here,” I muttered.
He loomed above me unblinking, his scent wafting over me—notes of leather and smoky woods.
“Looks like your daddy isn’t here to protect you anymore.”
His gaze slid down to my lips, and my chest fluttered. He seemed so different. Like a stranger. He let out a small laugh and snatched my phone from my hands without hesitation. I tried to get it back from him, but I was smaller, and I wasn’t going to throw myself at him either.
“Hey! You can’t do that!”
“It’s always the same sentence: you can’t do that, please stop, I’ll tell no one,” he dramatized, a sinister glint in his eyes. “Empty words and threats.”
I swallowed hard, guilt burning the back of my throat. After the devastating consequences of our kiss, his stepfather was fired from Dad’s company and humiliated in front of the whole board a week later. Dad wanted to make an example out of him, so he’d asked me to watch. Each action has consequences, Dalia. I had never known what had happened to Levi since that day. It was as if he had never existed, and Lucie’s house was sold a month later.
And it was all because of me.
The sounds of notifications poured into my phone, a small blue tick next to the Wi-Fi network as he handed it back to me.
“Your old man seems worried.” He read my texts. “And here I thought you were a good, obedient girl.”
“I’m sorry.” My voice quivered. “I’m sorry for what happened to—”
He trapped me with one arm on the wall and twirled a lock of my hair around his finger. “You’re at my mercy now.”
“Levi—”
“Thief,” he sneered, tilting my head to the side, his breath chilling against my ear. “I hope you don’t have anything to hide.” With unaffected poise, he retreated, his expression unreadable. “Oh, and tell your grandmother she’s a wise woman.”
With that, he strode inside the opera house, treading with the demeanor of a guy used to strolling on his victims’ tombstones with a mocking laugh.
“My grandmother? What—” I began, but then I checked my phone.
Dad: I’ll be back at the office in half an hour. Let me know when you have arrived safely.
And the last message was the cherry on top—Grandma had truly outdone herself. I regretted teaching her how to use a phone.
Grandma: Don’t tell your father, but I put three packs of condoms in your luggage as protection just in case. Don’t forget women’s pleasure is as important as men’s. If he orgasms, so should you!
She paired that with the eggplant and pepper emoji.
“Congratulations, you’ve just made yourself your first and possibly worst enemy at Pantheon,” Yasmine said. “How do you know each other anyway?”
“I don’t know him anymore,” I said, quickly texting back to my family that I was alive—making sure not to mention Levi Delombre.
Over the years, I’d daydreamed about meeting him again, but it had never crossed my mind that he’d heartlessly trample over my already battered heart, draining himself of any remaining shreds of humanity.
“Well, I don’t know how he was back then, but my sister warned me to stay away from the Tacticians. And you’ll never guess what he is…that’s right, a Tactician.” She shrugged, leading the way inside the opera house. “I heard he’s a bully with the right allies, and yes, I eavesdrop a lot. My life is boring, so I live vicariously through others—and books. How do you know him?”
“He was the son of my old music teacher.”
This story didn’t have a happy ending. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that I was part of his villain origin story.
“Small world.”
I swallowed. “It is.”
Levi seemed to have it all now—apparently ruling over Pantheon after leaving our hometown. But I knew appearances were deceiving. There had to be a vulnerability, a weakness beneath his facade. I couldn’t bring back the Cigno Nero, but I would find a way to redeem myself. And that meant facing him sooner rather than later.
I clenched my fists. No, Levi wasn’t a monster. I wouldn’t let him convince me otherwise. There had to be remnants of the boy I once knew buried within him.
We ascended the stairwell filled with students heading toward the ceremony, but when we reached the top, I diverged from the crowd. I walked to one of the doors leading to the defunct opera house that was still closed for renovation. A frigid draft seeped from beneath the door’s crack. I pressed my palm against the door’s small window. Peering inside, I found darkness, broken only by the skeletal steel frame of construction and scattered tarpaulins. The velvet curtain lay halfway fallen on the floor. One towering arch remained shattered above, its golden frame stretching out like the arms of a conductor commanding the emptiness.
My heart contracted, my thumb scratching the side of my nail. I close my eyes, resurrecting the magic of this place in my memories. This stage had graced the greatest musicians of many generations, including Pantheon’s best students. Every year, I would beg Mom to attend the Pantheon’s Winter Orchestra for Christmas, and she never failed to take me.
Until they took her away from me.
“Dalia?” Yas’s voice brought me back to reality. “Are you okay?”
“Sorry, I’m here.” I stepped away, pushing aside the heaviness in my heart, and followed her into the makeshift amphitheater for the ceremony. We found empty seats in the burgundy sofas in the first row. I focused on the noise around us, trying to shut down the voices inside my head when my gaze was abruptly arrested by the balcony above.
Levi stood there, staring at me, his gaze hostile and intense. He wasn’t alone, though. His fingers traced the arm of a woman with curly black hair, and an uncomfortable tightness gripped my chest. I watched him lean in, about to whisper something in her ear. I knew I should look away. It wasn’t my business, but his eyes held me captive as if he sought to obliterate me with just the intensity of his gaze.
I involuntarily tightened my knees together and tore my eyes away, forcing a semblance of composure. I received a flow of notifications from my Instagram account.
You have one new follower.
My profile was set to private. I’d never received a follow request, but somehow, I’d already accepted him.
Sixty-one likes.
All of my pictures were liked.
One comment.
All of those notifications from @LeviD_ .
“Enjoyed the show, little thief?”