𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑, luke castellan

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

Keira couldn't shake the heat from her encounter with Luke on the beach throughout the entire journey to San Diego.

Of course, it was part of her long-term strategy to drive him crazy for her, and she didn't regret the decision to leave. However, she couldn't deny to herself that his hands on her skin, his kisses, his husky voice, the primal sounds that escaped his lips when she touched him, and above all, the way he let himself go despite all he struggled to deny his feelings towards her had left her aroused. There was something physical between the two of them, and Keira was thinking that while her plan unfolded, she could have a lot of fun along the way by maintaining this dynamic tension between them that led to those steamy encounters.

Yet, as she climbed the stairs of the Military School, she couldn't help but still feel the lingering heat from the encounter with Luke. She cursed herself at that moment for having argued with Sebastian a few days ago, as on occasions like these, it was his body that had typically eased Keira's desires.

As she opened the door, the security guard greeted her with a serious expression, clad in his customary military uniform. Externally, she remained calm, though Keira instantly knew she had gotten into trouble. Nevertheless, she already suspected it. Having skipped school for a little over two weeks without notice, surely meant she had broken quite a few school rules—yet again.

She stepped into the school's lobby, greeted by the familiar sight of black walls, lofty ceilings, and a collection of statues and portraits commemorating past students. Despite its age, the building exuded an air of timelessness, impeccably preserved through diligent maintenance efforts.

"Good afternoon, Bob," Keira casually greeted.

She headed towards the corridor to the right, leading to the stairs of her dormitory, anticipating that her efforts might be in vain since someone would inevitably call her out on her absences sooner or later. However, before she could reach the corridor, the security guard intercepted her, halting her in her tracks and prompting her to raise a quizzical eyebrow.

"To Mrs. Henderson's office, Blackwell."

Keira smirked and didn't respond, changing her direction and heading down a hallway on the other side of the room, then up a staircase to the school authorities' offices. She hummed as she made her way to the principal's office from memory, and although she knew she was in a tense situation, she couldn't deny the adrenaline rush she felt knowing she was just steps away from being expelled.

The feeling of being on the brink of losing her place at school and then cleverly managing to stay put filled her with pride, especially because she knew it wasn't very common for halfbloods to last more than a year at the same school. It was like staring death in the face and outsmarting it. Keira had been attending that school for ten years, and in that decade, she had found herself in this situation a total of sixteen times and emerged unscathed.

This would be number seventeen.

She stepped into the waiting room, furnished with old but comfortable armchairs and small tables stocked with candies for waiting guests. Several doors lined the room, each leading to a different office. Among them were the principal's office, the vice-principal's office, the treasury, the infirmary, and several others whose purposes she didn't know.

The familiar sight of the place brought back memories for Keira. Mrs. Henderson had been a friend of her father's and had taken her to school when her father passed away. Whenever Keira needed authorization from an adult, Mrs. Henderson would sign her papers without hesitation.

She settled into one of the olive-green armchairs in the waiting room, her gaze drifting over the familiar portraits hanging on the walls, each face etched into her memory. With a curious glance, she reached for a candy from the coffee table beside her, then leaned forward to squint at the signs on the doors she didn't recognize, battling against her dyslexia in an attempt to decipher the text.