Page 45 of Godless Saints

It’s embarrassing.

I focused on the word.

I told you not to make me look like a fool, Hyun. Right now, I look like a fool.

I can fix it.

Good. Then meet me before dinner.

Zara

No. We’re fixing this in person.

I exhaled through my teeth. The screen stayed lit in my palm, her messages burning. Cillian’s text waited below hers. Unopened.

My thumb hovered over it.

No.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket and kept walking.

Stone floors. Cold air. The faint smell of rain and melting wax from the wall sconces.

I did not open it.

But the thoughts forced their way in anyway.

Messy dark hair falling into his eyes on that Saint Lucia balcony. The gallery floor, our first real kiss.

All of it crashed through my head.

The ink smear still stained my thumb. This was getting embarrassing. I needed an exorcism. A lobotomy. Anything.

By the time comparative politics ended, the rain had stopped. The east academic corridor reflected a washed-out sky in its windows. I cut past the old debate hall and took the narrow passage behind the trophy gallery. Faster. Fewer students.

Mistake.

A shadow detached from the archway ahead. Declan Carrick stepped out, blocking the path. Bigger than I remembered. Heavy-shouldered, dark hair cropped short, that permanent hard set to his mouth like he was always deciding who to hit next. I stopped.

CHAPTER 11

MOON

Declan smiled. It looked wrong on his face, like a crack in concrete.

“Moon Hyun-seo.”

I stopped.

My fingers tightened on the strap of my bag. He was bigger. Heavier. Built like someone who solved problems with his fists. I was faster, but I wasn’t a street fighter. I was a fencer—footwork, timing, distance. That was the whole game.

“If you’ll excuse me.”

Declan stepped off the wall and blocked my path. “No,” he said. “You don’t dismiss me.”

I swallowed the sharp reply burning on my tongue. Provoking him right now would be stupid.

“I’m not looking for a fight, Declan,” I said. “Just let me pass.”