Chapter 2 Blood on the Floor

~ Sera's POV ~

Before he could breathe, I dropped over him, pinning his shoulders with my knees, grabbing his wrist, and wrenching it until his fingers popped open. The knife skittered across the floor.

Blood dripped from my arm straight onto his shirt.

Jax and Kian lunged forward, but Dante raised one blood-smeared hand, freezing them dead in their tracks. He stared up at me, trapped beneath my weight.

I leaned in, my breath hot against his ear. "Rule number one. I sit where I want."

The back doors flew open.

"What in God's name is going on in here?!" Professor Sterling's voice cracked through the silence.

I pushed off Dante’s chest, grabbed my bag, and bolted through the side doors before Professor Sterling could even clear his throat.

Blood soaked through my sleeve, warm and sticky against my skin. I didn't head for the medical center. I needed the restricted library tower—the high-rise archive where the school’s private server node lived.

I cut through the stone courtyard, taking the back stairwell three steps at a time. The air grew colder, smelling of damp dust and old ink.

At the top landing, the heavy iron door of the tower sat cracked open.

I slipped inside, my sneakers making no sound against the flagstone floor. Row after row of floor-to-ceiling wooden racks stretched into the shadow. Down the central aisle, light flickered from a glowing laptop terminal.

Zayn sat on an old oak table, his long legs dangling off the edge, black hoodie pulled up over his head. A dark terminal screen reflected in his eyes as his fingers flew across the mechanical keyboard like gunfire.

"The medical center is two floors down, new girl," Zayn said, not even looking up from his screen. "You're bleeding on the floor."

"I'm not looking for a bandage," I said, stepping closer.

My right hand reached into my jacket, pulling out a slim thumb drive. I slapped it onto the wood right next to his keyboard.

Zayn stopped typing. His fingers hovered above the keys.

"Zayn Moretti," I said, leaning over the table so he could see the blood running down my arm. "Dante’s shadow tech. You run the dark network for the Moretti syndicate from this tower. You erased the dockside smuggling logs last Tuesday, and you routed three million in offshore sports bets through the campus server bank."

Zayn tilted his head up. His sharp eyes locked onto mine.

"You think a pretty speech buys you access?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low threat.

"I don't buy access. I take it," I said, tapping the thumb drive with my uninjured hand. "I bypassed your front-end firewall in two minutes from my phone. That drive has your private encryption key. Hand over the restricted campus grid access, or I leak the Moretti server logs to the syndicate rival board before Dante finishes his lecture."

Zayn stared at the drive. A slow, dangerous grin spread across his face, his shoulder relaxing as he leaned back.

"You really do have a death wish," Zayn muttered, grabbing the drive. "Dante's going to tear this place apart looking for you."

"Let him try," I said.

BANG.

The heavy iron door slammed against the stone wall, the echo rattling through the library stacks like a gunshot.

Zayn’s fingers snapped off his keyboard. He didn't even flinch.

Dante filled the doorway, his leather jacket open, dark hair messily pushed back from his forehead. His black eyes swept the floor, locking onto the red drops smeared across the flagstones, then tracking straight up to me.

Behind him, Jax and Kian guarded the landing, their heavy frames blocking out the hall light.

"Out," Dante growled, his voice low, gravelly, and flat.

Zayn grabbed his laptop, unplugged the power cord with a quick jerk, and slid off the table without saying a word. He snatched the black thumb drive off the wood, flashed me a dark, knowing smirk, and walked past Dante into the dark.

The iron door clicked shut.

Dante didn't wait. He closed the distance in three long strides, his heavy boot hitting the floorboards hard. His right hand shot out, wrapping around my uninjured arm, his grip like a steel clamp.

"You're coming with me," he said, yanking me forward so hard my heels skidded across the stone.

I didn't let him drag me. I planted my boots, leaned my hips back, and drove my left elbow hard into his ribs.

He didn't drop, but the impact forced him to let go of my arm. He took half a step back, his lungs pulling in a sharp rasp.

I stepped straight into his personal space, my chin lifted, my chest nearly touching his.

"Touch me like that again," I whispered, my voice ice cold, "and I won't just flip you onto your back. I'll take your other knee out."

Dante froze.

His black eyes dropped to my sliced forearm, where blood was still seeping through my black jacket, then flicked back to my face. A slow, dark pulse flared in his throat, his broad shoulders locking tight under his jacket.

He didn't grab me. He didn't pull his blade.

Instead, his silver-ringed hand slowly lifted, his thumb stopping half an inch from my jaw, hover-close without making contact.

"You think this is a game, new girl?" he breathed, his voice dropping into a harsh, dark scrape. "You bleed on my floor, you hack my server, and you think you get to walk away clean?"