"What?"
The word wasn't shouted, nor sharp—it was laced with irritation, yes, but also restraint. Julia's voice cut through the silence like a blade across silk—clean, deliberate. Her arms remained crossed, but her gaze never wavered.
She glared at Victor—not with challenge, not with flirtation, but with expectation.
Because she knew him.
Far better than most in the room.
They all did, in truth. Julia, Lucas, Ethan… even Irina and Carl to an extent. Long before Arcadia Hunter Academy had drawn them into this new war-forged mold, they had crossed paths in pre-academy schools. Institutions meant to raise prodigies. To filter the exceptional from the promising.
And Victor?
Victor Blackthorn had always been exceptional.
Untouchably so.
He hadn't needed to speak much then either. He simply was. Brilliant, disciplined, devastating in battle. But even in those early days—amid duels and drills, lectures and assessments—there had been one exception to his stoic detachment.
Julia.
