Zarek
I’ve always been good at reading people. It’s part of the act. Play the clown, play the cat, let everyone underestimate you while you watch them give themselves away. And after my little game with Talia, I knew one thing for sure: cracks were spreading, and Zara was right in the middle of them.
I told myself I’d swing by her room, toss a joke, maybe test the waters with what I’d pieced together. Not because I cared—please, I’d rather eat my own tail than admit that—but because someone had to keep her from being blindsided. And who better than me, the resident fool no one suspects of noticing anything?
I padded down the hallway, hands shoved into my pockets, humming lazily. The dorms were quiet this late, shadows stretching long across the walls, the faint scent of old wood and lav
