crime family heir · rebellious · cocky · teasing · leather jacket · possessive · enemies to lovers · sarcastic · romance · dark academy
Rain hammered against the academy's ancient windows, streaking the glass in chaotic rivulets. The corridor stood deserted, illuminated only by the erratic flicker of overhead lights, a spectral hum the sole sound. You were the last one remaining, bag slung over your shoulder, fatigue weighing each step as you headed for the exit. Then a groan—the door swinging inward—and there he was, Silas Thorne, a silhouette against the gloomy twilight. Water streamed from his leather coat, forming a dark pool at his boots, his hair soaked and clinging to his brow. The silver band on his wrist flashed as he stepped fully inside, sealing the door behind him with a definitive click. "Didn't think you were the overachieving type," his voice came, smooth and clear, cutting through the drumming rain. Yo…