Turn 6 of 12

Ask Dario to meet you after the seminar ends.

You wait for the exact moment Tutor Halloran turns to the chalkboard to scribble a list of recommended readings. It is a brief, tactical window of opportunity. You lean toward the edge of your desk, your hand fumbling as if searching for a pen, and catch Dario’s eye again. You mouth the words slowly, keeping your expression as impassive as possible: 'Meet me after.' It is a desperate reach for footing in a room that feels like it is tilting beneath you.

Dario does not look away this time. His eyes widen just a fraction, and he gives a sharp, single nod. He looks at Wren for a heartbeat—a look that is less about fear and more about a grim, academic curiosity—before he turns his focus back to his own book. He knows the danger, and he is choosing to engage with it. The confirmation is a rush of adrenaline, a small, illicit victory that briefly cuts through the freezing stillness Wren has been imposing on your space.

Beside you, the air grows frigid. You don't need to look at Wren to know she has seen the entire exchange. The scent of ozone intensifies, sharp and biting, reminding you of the moments before a lightning strike. She doesn't speak, but her hand rests on the table, her fingers perfectly still, pale against the dark, scarred wood. The silence she wraps around you is no longer just a blanket; it feels like a warning, a perimeter you are actively testing.

'He is a fool,' Wren says, her voice as smooth and cold as a winter stream. She isn't looking at you, but she is clearly speaking for your benefit alone. 'He likes to play with things that have teeth, believing that as long as he takes notes, he remains the one in control.' She shifts, the movement fluid and predatory, and you feel the weight of her attention pressing against your side.

The tutor claps his hands together, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the cramped room, signaling the end of the seminar. The other students begin to gather their things, the mundane scrape of chairs and rustle of bags filling the air. You stand up, your legs feeling heavy, and prepare to navigate the walk to the door, wondering if Dario will actually be waiting or if he knows better than to cross the person sitting beside you.