3. echo
echo
The library sat past the main hall, tucked between two older stone buildings and a courtyard full of students pretending they weren’t watching everyone else.
I headed that way with the campus packet still tucked under one arm and my bag still cutting into my shoulder.
Graduate housing could wait. Orientation could wait.
Whatever cheerful first-day nonsense Aldrich had planned could absolutely die alone in a corner.
Nichlas’ class was supposed to let out soon, unless he’d changed the schedule, changed the entrance, changed his entire face, or finally developed survival instincts.
I didn’t give him that much credit. He’d always been good at hiding behind people smarter than him, but on his own, Nicky boy was just a nervous little rat with pretty handwriting and a talent for betrayal.
I spotted him near the library steps before I reached the path.
For half a second, my body didn’t do anything useful. My feet kept moving, my fingers tightened around the campus packet, and my brain emptied down to one bright, vicious point.
Him. Blond hair tied back. Glasses. Uniform neat. Bag slung over one shoulder like he’d earned a normal day. Like he got to walk across this campus with coffee in one hand and friends around him while the scar down my side still remembered the shape of what he’d done.
I slowed beside a stone planter and looked past him.
There were plenty of those around. Heavy planters.
Metal signposts. A maintenance cart near the side entrance with pruning shears clipped to the rail.
The library doors were glass, thick enough to reflect movement but not thick enough to stop someone’s head if I got a running start and enough motivation.
My hand drifted toward my thigh. I caught myself before I dug in too hard and pressed the campus packet against my ribs instead.
He laughed at something one of the guys beside him said, and the sound hit worse than seeing him had.
I wanted to take his tongue first. No, fingers.
Fingers were better. He had used those to hold my ledger, to turn pages, to pretend he was helping me build something that belonged to us while he figured out exactly what pieces someone else would pay for.
Our last campus, I had been the queen, the one in charge of favors dealt to people who would pay anything for their problems to go away. And I was fucking good at it before Nichlas stole that book and pointed the finger at me.
He shifted his weight, looking relaxed in a way that made my vision sharpen around the edges.
I pictured my hand in his hair, yanking his head back until his throat stretched.
I pictured the first cut along his flesh shallow enough to scare him, then deeper when he started crying.
I pictured him trying to explain, trying to bargain, trying to say my name like he had any right to put it in his mouth.
I’d let him talk for a minute. Maybe two, if he was funny about it.
Then I’d break his nose, take his glasses, and make him crawl around blind until he understood what helpless actually felt like.
One of his friends touched his shoulder, and Nichlas leaned closer to listen. That almost did it.
My teeth locked together so hard my jaw hurt.
I could cross the courtyard in under ten seconds.
The students between us were soft-looking, distracted, breakable in an inconvenient but manageable way.
The maintenance cart was closer than the signpost. The shears would be a sloppy option, but workable.
Father Two would judge the angle, Father Three would judge the witnesses, Father One would feed me afterward, and Father Four would probably ask if I had enjoyed myself.
No bodies today.
I hated that sentence. I hated every responsible syllable of it.
Nichlas turned slightly, and the morning sun caught his face.
He looked older than the version of him I carried around in my head, but it was still him.
Still breathing. Still wearing the life someone had bought him.
My thumb pressed into the edge of the packet until the folder bent, and all I could think was that the first scream out of him had better be good. After a year, I’d earned quality.
“Hey!” someone called behind me.
The voice snapped me out of a very reasonable mental image involving pruning shears and Nichlas losing the ability to point at anything ever again.
I turned with the campus packet still bent under my thumb and found three people looking at me like they’d been deciding whether I was lost, dangerous, or entertaining enough to keep.
All three wore the Aldrich uniform better than I did.
The guy in the middle was broad-shouldered in the soft, expensive way, with gorgeous curls, and a watch that probably cost more than my motorcycle.
The girl beside him had glossy black hair, a perfect line of red lipstick, and a cardigan draped over her shoulders like she’d been born near a country club and had never apologized for it.
The third was smaller, pale, and mild-looking, with round glasses, honey-blond hair, and the kind of smile that made people underestimate her right before she stole their seat in a seminar.
The smiling one lifted a hand. “You’re new.”
I looked down at the campus packet, then at my loose bowtie, then back at her. “Damn. I was going for mysterious local cryptid.”
The guy laughed first. The lipstick girl only looked me over, starting at my boots and ending at the colored streaks in my hair, her expression caught somewhere between intrigued and judgmental.
The smiling one stepped closer before the silence got weird.
“I’m Priya Shah. Criminal studies. That’s Devon Reyes, also criminal studies, and Maren Bell, behavioral sciences. ”
“Echo,” I said, because giving a last name felt like a gift and I didn’t know them well enough to be generous.
Maren’s gaze flicked toward the library steps, where Nichlas was still standing with his little circle of borrowed safety. “Echo,” she repeated, like she was filing it somewhere. “That’s memorable.”
“So is the hair,” Devon said, still smiling. “And the leather. And the boots. And the general feeling that you might bite someone if they ask where you’re from.”
“I only bite when people are rude.”
The lipstick girl, Priya, hummed. “Then you’re going to be exhausted here.”
I liked her a little for that, which was annoying since she also looked like the kind of person who’d tell me my bowtie was crooked without offering to fix it.
Behind them, Nichlas started moving with his friends, heading down the path that curved around the library.
I tracked the shift without turning my head all the way, catching the direction, the pace, the fact that he stayed in the middle of the group like a man who’d learned to love barriers with pulses.
Maren seemed to notice but didn’t say anything, redirecting the conversation.
“You need graduate housing?” she asked, pointing at the packet under my arm.
“Orientation sends everyone the long way around, but there’s a faster path through the west court.
The signs are technically correct, which is Aldrich’s favorite way to be unhelpful. ”
“I’m a big fan of unhelpful signs. They build character and lawsuits.”
Devon shifted his bag higher on his shoulder and nodded toward the opposite path. “Come on. We’re heading that way. First day is easier if someone tells you which doors pretend to be public and which ones will embarrass you in front of finance majors.”
“I’d hate to be embarrassed in front of finance majors,” I spat back, and took one last look past them. Nichlas was farther away now, still close enough to reach if I ignored every promise I’d made before breakfast.
Priya fell into step beside me. “The east wing doors lock after six unless your ID has lab access. Library stays open late, but the upper floors are mostly claimed by people who aren’t really there for reading.
Those floors are also usually reserved so stay away unless you have an invitation.
Dining hall is decent if you avoid the fish, and the coffee in the main hall tastes like that instant bullshit. ”
I bit the inside of my cheek because I actually liked the instant stuff depending on where it was bought. “I would have expected more rules for the tuition required to come here.”
I hadn’t paid more than a few thousand after finding grants and scholarships to pay me for attendance. No fucking way was I dropping nearly $75k a year on an education.
Maren walked on my other side, letting out a small sigh. “Graduate housing has card access after nine. If your ID glitches, don’t ask the front desk guy with the beard. He’ll make it your fault. Ask Tessa if she’s there. She actually fixes things.”
Devon pointed toward a stone arch ahead. “That way cuts to the old quad. Don’t walk it alone after midnight unless you’re trying to get invited to something weird or sacrificed.”
I glanced at him. “Those are very different warnings.”
“At Aldrich, not always.”
I listened, nodded, and kept part of my attention on every hard edge we passed. Stone benches. Iron railings. Heavy brass door handles. A broken bit of slate near a planter that would do real damage if swung right. Father Two had taken my knives, but Aldrich had thoughtfully provided architecture.
Graduate housing appeared at the end of a tree-lined path, all dark brick, tall windows, and tasteful lighting.
Devon held the door open with a little bow that made Priya roll her eyes.
The lobby was warmer than outside and smelled like expensive cleaning products and someone’s perfume.
A pair of students looked up from one of the leather couches, clocked me, and looked away a second too late.
“Subtle,” I said.
Priya laughed. “Don’t take it personally. People dress differently here to stand out, but they still expect everyone to stand out correctly.”
“I missed the pamphlet.”
“It shows.”
“Priya,” Maren said, soft warning threaded through her voice.
“What? It’s true.” Priya looked me over again, and this time her mouth curved. “The hair is good. The leather is a choice. The bowtie is suffering.”
Finally, someone understood me. Maren guided me toward the stairs instead of the elevator.
“Most first-years are on the second floor. Criminal studies and behavioral sciences got grouped together this year, mostly. Business students are across campus. Law is split between here and Halden House, depending on how much their families donated.”
“You just clocked that I’m at this house versus the others?”
Devon snorted. “You have a kind of... aura. Welcome to Aldrich.”
They stopped outside a door with my number on it, and Maren waited while I checked the key card.
The lock blinked green. My assigned room sat on the other side, clean and narrow and offensively harmless.
My hand stayed on the knob while my brain tried to calculate how fast I could drop the bag, lose the bowtie, and get back to the path Nichlas had taken.
Priya leaned one shoulder against the wall. “So,” she said, casual in a way that wasn’t casual at all. “We saw you watching Nicky.”
My fingers tightened on the knob. Devon’s expression stayed pleasant, but he went still enough to make me reassess him. Maren only watched my face.
“Nicky?” I asked, and managed to make it sound like a question.
“Nichlas,” Maren said. “Business program. Blond, glasses, always looks like he’s trying to remember if he offended someone important.”
I pushed out a fake nervous laugh, trying to act normal. “Is that his official campus description?”
“It should be,” Priya said. “He’s cute, isn’t he? In a nervous, scholarship-boy-with-secrets way.”
“Priya,” Devon said.
“What? I’m helping.” She pushed off the wall, smiling like she knew exactly how little help she was being. “But if you want to get there, you’ll have to ask the Kings.”
I blinked at her. “The who?”
That made all three of them look at me like I’d just announced I didn’t know what a door was.
Devon recovered first. “You really are new.”
Maren adjusted her glasses. “Hunter Hansen, Ronan Vale, and Malakai Thorne. People call them the Kings. Not officially, obviously, but Aldrich runs on things that aren’t official.”
“Especially the things that aren’t official,” Priya added. “Nichlas is in their orbit, or under their protection, or whatever dramatic phrasing people are using this semester. He doesn’t move alone much. If you want access, you ask them.”
I laughed again, softer this time, realizing that Nichlas really did have protection. “Right. Sure. I’ll put that on my orientation checklist.”
Priya’s smile sharpened, but Maren only gave me a thoughtful look before touching Devon’s sleeve. “We should go. Department mixer starts in twenty, and if Professor Hardgrove corners us before coffee, I’m blaming you.”
Devon lifted a hand in goodbye. “Welcome to Aldrich, Echo. Try not to scare anyone important until week two.”
“No promises,” I said.
They left me there with my campus packet, my bag, and the name Kings sitting in the hallway like something I was supposed to respect. I watched them turn the corner, waited until their footsteps faded, then stepped into my room and let the door click shut behind me.
The laugh fell off my face. I dropped the packet on the bed and looked around. Desk. Chair. Closet rod. Lamp. Metal bedframe. Cheap hangers. Window latch. A room full of boring little possibilities if a girl had imagination and no access to knives.
I tugged the bowtie loose, smiled at the lamp, and muttered, “Now, what the fuck can I use for a weapon in here?”