Page 5 of The King's Pawn
Parties are… always a complicated storm.
They require the kind of permission I’ve never been granted before, and least of all, a conversation with my father which always ends the same way. “Too many variables. Too many people. Too much risk. Come on, Alina. Be realistic. I can’t have you getting photographed drunk with a bunch of other students. That’s a bad look for my next campaign.”
Once, only once, I worked up the courage to ask him when I was sixteen. The answer was a simple, clipped, “No,” followed by a fifteen-minute lecture over dinner on the dangers of compromised environments, unsecured buildings, and the potential for kidnapping.
Sixteen-year-old me cried in my bathroom afterward until mascara streaked down my neck.
Now at twenty, I don’t cry. I simply just don’t ask.
Arin watches my hesitation with a small frown. “It’ll be fun. Low-key, I promise. Just a few people from class and friends from the dorms. You wouldn’t even have to stay long.”
I swallow, trying to keep my expression neutral.
“I’ll think about it,” I lie, because it’s easier.
He leans forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “If your father’s guys are the issue, there’s a garage entrance no one uses. And an elevator that goes straight up to my place. No one would even see you come in.”
I tense.
As nice as the sentiment is, that is exactly the kind of comment someone would make who doesn’t understand how carefullycontrolled my life actually is. It would be easy to think that a quiet gathering wouldn’t get me into loads of trouble, but reality is a far crueler mistress.
I wish I could be brave enough to actually go against my father’s wishes or have some kind of rebellious streak in me, but I never have.
“Thanks,” I say quietly, not meeting his eyes. “I’ll let you know.”
He nods like he gets it, even though I don’t think he ever truly could. People like Arin have freedom woven into their bones. They’ve never had to ask for it.
When Professor Ivanov calls for a break, the room erupts into stretching limbs and chatter. I shove my half-filled water bottle back into my bag and zip it up. Right as I stand to stretch my legs, Arin leans closer.
“If you change your mind, let me know. I’ll save you a few beers.”
I give him a polite smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes. “Thanks.”
By the time the break ends and students start trickling back through the doors, something in the room feels… off.
I can’t explain it at first.
It’s nothing obvious—no alarms, no strange shadows lurking in the corners, no dramatic shouts or flashes of movement that force my attention away from the front of the room. It’s just a shift, a subtle ripple in the air like glass vibrating that’s invisible but impossible to ignore.
Something in my body is on edge, but nothing around me justifies it. Students flip through their notes on their screens, fingers type across keyboards. All of it is painfully normal.
I press my pen to the page but my handwriting shakes. I exhale slowly, trying to ease the tension balled up in my stomach.
Arin glances at me. “You alright?”
I nod. “Fine.”
He studies me for a second longer before turning back to his screen, but I can tell he isn’t convinced.
My phone vibrates again, a pulse against my thigh. For some reason, my heart leaps into my throat.
I slide the phone out carefully, shielding the screen from view. It’s not from Yuri like I expect, though. It’s from an unknown number, one I don’t recognize off the top of my head.
There are only three words.
Leave campus immediately.
A cold shiver races down my spine.
