Zara’s POV
Principal Kieran’s eyes bore into me like drills, cold and relentless. His office smelled faintly of leather and old paper, but under it was something different—the scent of judgment. It clung to me like smoke.
He didn’t give me a moment to breathe.
“So,” he said, his voice calm but slicing, “multiple students testified that you and Zarek were the first to leave the party last night. You slipped away together.”
I swallowed hard, the back of my throat dry. “That doesn’t mean anything—”
“And then,” he continued as though I hadn’t spoken, “Kai contacts you last. Not Seraphine. Not Alex. Not Atlas. You.” He leaned forward, knuckles pressing into the polished wood of his desk. “Explain that, Zara. Why were you the last name in his history?”
My pulse pounded in my ears. The imag
