Damien watched her.
Head still resting in his palm, eyes half-lidded but sharp beneath the lazy curtain of lashes, he took in every flick of her fingers, every narrowing of her eyes as she combed through his score report like it had betrayed the world order.
And then—
That smirk.
Subtle. Slow. Curving at the corner of his mouth like a knife being drawn from a velvet sheath.
'Just as expected,' he thought, gaze fixed on the class rep's furrowed brow.
'So serious. So rattled. This is why you were worth the trouble.'
Watching her unravel piece by piece—not because he failed, but because he didn't—was almost better than the rank itself.
Almost.
He leaned back in his seat slightly, a low hum of satisfaction pressing into his chest. He didn't need her to say anything. Her silence was more honest than words.
She wasn't annoyed that he'd made it.
She was annoyed that she hadn't seen it coming.
Out of the corner of his eye, movement caught his attention.
Madeline.
