"North. North, wake up."
A voice drags me out of the haze of sleep, paired with a persistent tapping on my shoulder.
I groan, rolling onto my side, the couch beneath me lumpy and unforgiving. "Five more minutes," I mumble, pulling the throw blanket over my head to block out the harsh light spilling into the room.
The tapping turns into a light shove. "You've already overslept. Get up before I pour water on you."
Peeking out from under the blanket, I see Ellie standing over me, arms crossed, looking like she's barely holding herself together.
There's exhaustion etched into her face, her ponytail loose and uneven, and her uniform rumpled from hours on the night shift.
"You look like you've been through the wringer," I say, my voice scratchy with sleep.
She raises an eyebrow. "And you look like you've been dead for three days."
I chuckle, sitting up and stretching. "Maybe a few more days than three days, don't you think?"
A faint smile tugs at her lips before she sobers. "Laugh it up, but you've got class today, and you're already running late."
I groan dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. "What if I just… didn't go? One day won't hurt."
Her hands rest on her hips, her no-nonsense expression firmly in place. "Skipping isn't an option. What are you even going to do here all day? Stare at the walls?"
I sit up, feigning a pout. "What if I came with you to your afternoon classes instead? Think of it as bonding time. Ellie and North on a date."
She snorts, shaking her head. "Nice try, but no. Get up, get dressed, and go."
"Ugh, you're the worst," I grumble, dragging myself to my feet.
"And you're the laziest," she counters, a smirk on her face.
Despite her teasing, there's a warmth in her tone, and for a moment, the room feels lighter.
But as I step outside and head toward the bus stop, that fleeting sense of normalcy fades.
The morning air is crisp, the sun low in the sky, but there's an unease gnawing at me.
It's subtle, like the sensation of being watched, but no matter how much I glance over my shoulder, the street remains empty.
Lost in thought, I don't even notice the sleek car pulling up beside me until the window rolls down.
"Need a ride?"
Achilles's voice is calm, almost teasing, and I freeze for a moment before stepping closer to the car.
Without further hesitation, I open the door and slide into the passenger seat.
As the car pulls away from the curb, he glances at me out of the corner of his eye. "You're getting comfortable with this arrangement."
I shrug, leaning back against the seat. "Well, I've got centuries to live. Might as well get used to it."
His smirk falters for a split second, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. But he doesn't respond, and the silence that follows is thick.
The city blurs past outside the window, but my thoughts are elsewhere. Yesterday's questions swirl in my mind, each one heavier than the last.
By the time we reach the campus, I feel like I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.
Reaching for the door handle, I hesitate, turning toward him. My mind races with uncertainty, but the need for answers outweighs my hesitation.
"Swear you'll answer me," I say softly, though my voice holds an edge of determination.
His eyebrows lift, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "Swear? To what?"
I square my shoulders, meeting his gaze. "Swear that whatever I ask, you'll give me the truth."
He leans back slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching into what could either be a smirk or a frown. "That's a dangerous promise to make, little one. I don't make oaths lightly."
I narrow my eyes, feeling frustration bubble up. "You owe me honesty."
"I don't owe you anything," he counters smoothly. "You should tell me what you're asking first. Then I'll decide if I should swear."
My fingers clench in my lap, and I bite the inside of my cheek. "If I tell you first, you'll find a way to dodge it. This is important."
He tilts his head, studying me with an intensity that makes my stomach tighten. "Why does this feel like a trap?"
"It's not," I say, though I know it sounds defensive. "It's just… I need answers, and I can't trust you'll give them unless you swear."
His gaze sharpens, flicking over my face as if trying to read the thoughts I'm keeping hidden. "Trust is earned, not forced. If you want something from me, you'll have to give something in return."
I exhale sharply, my patience thinning. "Fine. You want to know what this is about? It's about what you said yesterday—about me not being a vampire. About me being 'something else.' That's what I need to understand."
His expression shifts slightly, the amusement giving way to something more serious. "You've been thinking about that."
"Of course I've been thinking about it," I snap. "You don't just drop a bomb like that and expect me to move on."
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "You're persistent, I'll give you that."
"Is that a yes?" I press.
For a long moment, he doesn't respond, his eyes locked on mine. Finally, he exhales through his nose, the sound almost resigned. "Fine. I swear."
I blink, caught off guard by how easily he relents. "Really?"
He smirks faintly. "Really. But only because I'm curious to see where this goes. Go ahead, ask your question."
I take a deep breath, the question burning on the tip of my tongue. "What did you mean when you said I wasn't a vampire?"
His fingers tap lightly on the steering wheel as he exhales again, more like a huff, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.
"Baby vampires can't survive as long as you did without blood. They also would've turned to ash under the sun long ago. But you…" He turns to look at me, his eyes sharp and assessing. "You're something else entirely."
The words hang in the air, heavy and foreboding.
I swallow hard, my heart pounding. "What does that mean?"
"It means you're drawing attention," he says, his tone dropping lower. "And not the good kind. Word's spreading fast—a vampire who walks in sunlight. Nobody's taking it kindly."
The weight of his words presses down on me, leaving me stunned. "Why? What does it matter?"
He hesitates, as if debating how much to tell me, then he shrugs like he remembers he swore to answer all my questions. "Because you're an anomaly. In our world, anomalies are dangerous. Unpredictable. People fear what they don't understand."
I nod slowly, my mind racing with questions I don't even know how to articulate. I reach for the door handle again, but his hand catches mine, his grip firm but not harsh.
"Let him teach you to be stronger," he says, his voice softening. "You're all the defense you'll ever need, but you have to let him in."
I know who he's talking about, but I can't bring myself to respond. The truth he's just told me is too much to process.
Instead, I nod faintly, slipping my hand free and stepping out of the car.
The sunlight feels different now, like it's judging me, questioning my place in the world. As I walk toward the school building, his words echo in my mind.
"You're something else entirely."