Page 75 of Ashen Souls

“Even immortal ones?”

“Especially the immortal ones. They’ve had centuries to perfect the silent treatment.”

I huffed a weak laugh, my eyes dropping to my wrist. “I just need to know what this brand means before he decides to pull me back there.”

“Alright.” Harper slapped her palms against her knees and stood up. “But we do this smart.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we shower. We get coffee and ungodly amounts of carbs. We sit through our morning lecture so nobody realizes you’re having a supernatural crisis, and then we hit the Archives.”

“Lectures?” I shook my head. “Harper, the Archive opens at nine…”

“Yes, lectures,” she interrupted. “We’ve already missed way too many classes. You because of the accident, and me because of... well. You know who.” She grabbed her keys. “The Archive can wait until this afternoon. Right now, get dressed.”

The campus café felt jarringly normal. Espresso machines hissed, ceramic mugs clinked against tables, and half-awake students muttered about their morning seminars. The bright sunlight flooding the room felt like a sick joke after where I’d just been.

Harper made a beeline for the pastry case.

“If I don’t eat a carb in the next three minutes,” she said, “I will bite someone, and I don’t want it to be you.”

I managed a faint smile, following her inside.

That was when I saw him.

Ethan Hale was waiting near the pickup counter, a coffee in one hand and his phone in the other.

You let him smell my scent on you, my Patches. And now, we have to fix that. Daeren’s dark promise felt like a cold blade pressing against the back of my neck.

I kept my distance while Harper ordered, but I couldn't look away.

When he looked up, his attention fixed on me instantly.

“Aveline.” He inclined his head. “Good morning.”

“Professor Hale.” I kept my voice blank.

Harper materialized beside me, balancing a tray with our coffees. She took one look at my posture and stepped right in.

“Well,” she said, “this is either fate or a scheduling error.”

Ethan’s mouth twitched. “I’m hoping for the latter.”

“Harper. Friend. Emotional support. Occasional menace.”

He nodded. “Ethan.”

I kept my gaze locked on the counter, fighting the urge to cover the sigil on my wrist.

“How are you?” His eyes lingered on me.

“I’m good.” The lie slipped out too quickly. “Just busy.”

Harper snorted. “That’s one word for it.”

I shot her a look.

Ethan watched the exchange. “I take it breakfast is strategic.”