A few students dot the room. A girl with her nose in a book. Two boys muttering near the window. The quiet shuffle of a backpack being set down.

Then the door clicks shut again. A soft sound, barely noticeable.

But something prickles at the back of your neck.

You glance over your shoulder.

Kylar sits three rows back. Alone. His hands are resting on the desk in front of him, palms flat. He isn’t blinking. His stare is unhurried, unhidden—like he was waiting for you to notice.

He doesn’t look away.

Robin shifts, following your gaze for a second, then settles back.