Into the Light (University of Isles #2)

5. Chapter 5

Chapter five

I was always early for class. If you told me a certain time to be somewhere, I would always be at least thirty minutes early. Especially for the first day of class, I thought it was imperative to arrive early because it gave me the opportunity to pick the best seat.

There was a science to this. Not sitting too close to the professor but not sitting so far back. I paused as that thought crossed my mind and felt the subtle sting behind my ear. This same thought crossed my mind when Ash first appeared in Dr. Connolly’s class. A small laugh escaped me as I recalled how he fell asleep on me, his behavior catching me off guard. Remembering those seemingly inconsequential moments between us, now deeply ingrained in my daily life, brought me joy.

I blinked back to reality and looked around the classroom, selecting a seat in the second row. The room was tiny with only a handful of desks and a large door connecting it to the adjacent darkroom. Santiago had been texting me, plagued by worries, but I had insisted on handling my classes independently. I reminded him about the tracker, our shared location, and all the details at his disposal. Attracting more attention by having a bodyguard accompany me was a no-go. As a few other students filed in, their disdainful glances directed at me didn’t go unnoticed.

I’d gotten here without being recognized, meticulously preparing all my meals at home and persuading Santiago to do my grocery shopping to avoid contact with anyone in town. I simply wasn’t prepared for that yet. Being in a small class, where it was impossible to blend into the background, felt daunting, but at least no one had said anything thus far.

Our professor, a woman in her forties with brown curls fashioned into a high bun, dressed in black with oversized hoop earrings, entered through the connecting door. “Greetings, students,” she began. “You’ll find me listed as Ms. Broadbent on your syllabus, but I’d prefer you all call me Evie.”

A chorus of “Hey Evie” resounded through the room just as the bell signaled the start of class.

“This class is quite straightforward. I won’t burden you with numerous rules, and we have only one assignment throughout the semester.”

Whoa. I wasn’t sure if I liked that or if I needed the work to occupy my time and hands. A ripple of excitement flowed through the classroom as the door swung open. My gaze flicked to the empty seat beside me, the last vacant spot, and silently prayed the person would be the one student on campus with no inkling of who I was.

My attention snapped to the door, where a figure clad in dark jeans and a drenched black hoodie stood.

“Damn,” I muttered, the realization that I’d walked to class sinking in.

The door creaked as it swung shut, and the shadowed figure stepped into the classroom. As he moved farther into the room, my heart thudded in my chest. The room’s lights revealed him slowly, unveiling a silhouette that felt both foreign and achingly familiar.

His eyes, those penetrating orbs, were a shade of blue I could never forget. They were like a stormy sea, captivating and tumultuous. His every movement held a grace I had once known so intimately, and in that moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl.

The world faded into insignificance as his gaze swept through the room, searching for an empty seat, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his steps. Then it happened. As if guided by an unseen force, his gaze locked onto mine. The world stood still, and shivers shot down my spine.

For the first time in eight long, agonizing months, I was looking into the eyes of the one person I had desperately needed for answers—the one person who shared the same torment and grief that had clawed its way into my soul. The one person who, I knew in my heart, wanted nothing to do with me.

“Rain . . .” I whispered. It had been so long, I almost forgot how related they looked even though they weren’t blood relatives.

Rain’s hesitant steps carried him closer, and he mumbled an apology to our professor as he passed her desk. His presence was a magnetic force, drawing him inexorably to the empty seat beside me.

He sat down, his gaze fixed resolutely ahead, not daring to meet mine. His jaw clenched with an unspoken tension, and his hands, hidden beneath the dark fabric of his hoodie, gripped the edges of the seat as if it were the only thing keeping him anchored in a turbulent sea.

Every fiber of my being ached with the desire to reach out to him, to demand answers, to vent my anger and pain, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. I wanted him to see the turmoil in my gaze, the resentment, and the questions left unanswered. I wanted him to know how he had left me shattered, how his silence had been a weight too heavy to bear.

As Rain sat there, avoiding my gaze, a silent storm raged between us. Emotions, raw and unspoken, hung heavy in the air, a chasm of hurt that neither of us knew how to bridge. As Evie continued to describe the class’s expectations, a speech I typically clung to at the start of every class, I stared at him.

His hair had grown longer, slicked back from his face, while his jawline sported a thicker stubble, and lines had etched deeper into his features. He seemed older, marked by the weariness that clung to him like a shadow.

A memory flashed before my eyes, the same fatigue etched on his face that night—the night everything changed.

“Rain,” I whispered, trying to be discreet. His knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on the desk, then he lifted his chin, pretending to focus intently on the teacher’s words.

Normally, the old Ember would have taken the hint and let him be, but things were different. I had no patience for anyone’s nonsense.

“Rain,” I repeated, this time with more force.

A faint quirk danced on his lips, but he refused to look my way. Instead, he retrieved a notebook from his bag, feigning interest in taking notes.

Now, he was starting to irritate me. I reached into my bag, grabbed a notebook, and hastily scribbled him a message.

I tore the note from my pad and crumpled it into a small ball. My gaze shifted from the teacher to Rain, who continued to act insufferable. With careful precision, I launched the crumpled note toward his desk, where it landed squarely in his lap.

His eyes darted quickly in my direction, but he avoided meeting my gaze, instead focusing on the note he’d unfolded.

Evie approached Rain’s desk, her curiosity piqued. She picked up the crumpled note from his desk, glanced at it briefly, then, with a bemused expression, read it aloud.

The class erupted into laughter, including Rain, who couldn’t help but chuckle at the embarrassment thrust upon me.

Evie, after a hearty laugh, looked at both of us and said, “Well, it seems like you two need to work things out. You’re going to be partners on the only assignment. Maybe you’ll find some common ground.”

I buried my face in my hands, mortified by the attention, as Rain flashed a playful grin in my direction, then I shook my head and looked down.

Evie continued to tell us the basics of how our camera worked, and I spent the rest of class determined to catch up on what I had missed and attempt not to embarrass myself anymore.

When the bell rang and class was dismissed, Rain tucked the little note into his backpack and practically sprinted out of the classroom, pushing a few kids aside in his determination.

I wouldn’t chase him down though. If he wanted to act like the immature little ass he was being, then fine by me.

I slowly grabbed my things and realized Rain left his camera sitting on the desk. The first part of our assignment was due next week, so he’d probably need this before then. So I shoved it in my bag before heading upstairs.

Thankfully, the rain had stopped, so I walked back home, pleased to avoid anyone else and grateful that it was the start of the weekend.

“Please, come,” Marissa begged, standing in my living room on Saturday. I shook my head.

“No.” I laughed and fell onto the couch with her. Our friendship was something I cherished. It was a relief to have such an easygoing connection, a stark contrast to my strained relationship with Maddy, who hadn’t reached out to me or checked on me since I’d returned to Isles. Given the town’s small size, I was sure she’d heard something.

“I’m not going to a party at the Den tonight.” I wrinkled my nose, both at the thought of it and the fact Marissa was even suggesting it.

I am not going to a place where people hate me and where I will see Rain. He hadn’t made an effort to see me or even communicate with me, so I wouldn’t go out of my way to see him.

“I think it’s a good idea for you,” Marissa insisted. “Show the boys you don’t give a damn. Weren’t you close with a bunch of them before all of this?”

“I was.” I liked to play video games with them, mostly Rain though.

“So, go, show up, hold your head high, and remind them who’s boss.”

“I agree, Ember,” a deep voice chimed in from the now-opened door, causing me to recoil as Marissa rushed toward it. I extended a hand to halt her.

“Who the hell are you?” Santiago, materializing from what felt like nowhere, demanded from behind the stranger, his wary eyes darting between Marissa and me.

Marissa dragged me aside and made her way toward the newcomer, brushing off Santiago’s weapon and planting a kiss on his lips.

“Pico?” I asked, squinting. Sure enough, it was Pico, casually leaning against the doorframe and seemingly unfazed by Santiago’s previous threat.

He looked so much like Rain it was uncanny. Both had gelled back long black hair. Pico was bigger than Rain and much stockier. He was wearing an oversized U of Isles hoodie with a pair of black joggers.

“You know him?” Santiago asked.

“Yeah, this is Marissa’s boyfriend, Pico.” I clarified, and Pico extended his hand toward Santiago, who regarded him warily before shaking it.

“Hey man. You graduated a few years before me, yeah?” Santiago seemed to agree as recognition flashed before him.

“Oh yeah, brother. It’s good to see you.” Santiago pulled him in for a hug.

“This is a totally normal reaction to someone you thought was about to murder me, Santi.” I rolled my eyes as I walked over to Pico.

Santiago laughed, then waved me off, heading back to his apartment.

“I didn’t realize that Ash hired him . . .” Pico paused, then slowly turned toward me.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” It was the truth. In some weird roundabout way, being in Isles and remembering Ash had felt better than not being here and wallowing in the sad memories.

I still felt lost most days, but there were glimpses of hope, like remembering the first day of class, where I’d felt not a profound sadness but a gentle reminder of what was.

“Seriously, though, I know a lot of the guys would want you to come to the party,” he continued, and I narrowed my eyes at him, resulting in both of us laughing hysterically.

“Come in.” I gestured and went to the fridge to grab another seltzer.

They walked hand in hand over to the couch and sat.

“We both know that not a single person at that house wants me to be there,” I said as I sat opposite them.

“I want you there,” Pico muttered. I looked over at Marissa who shrugged.

“Did she change your mind?” I asked, gesturing to Marissa. To my knowledge, Pico wasn’t allowed to talk to me.

“Rules changed.” Pico placed his hand on Marissa’s thigh.

“So I’m just supposed to be all cool about it, like, ‘Hey, it was awesome how you ignored me for so long because of these stupid club rules that got my boyfriend killed last year. But welcome to my house, and I’m super glad you’re here?’” My words dripped with venom, a bitter admission of the past, something I hadn’t said aloud.

I glanced between them, overwhelmed by a sense of shame. I’d let my anger consume me, blurting out truths which hurt everyone in the room.

With my emotions welling, I sprang from the couch and retreated to the bathroom, tears streaming down my face. The shame from making grief my entire personality trait and hurting those close to me washed over me.

A soft knock at the door startled me from my thoughts. “It’s me.” Pico’s voice came from the other side. I wiped away my tears and slowly opened the door.

“I’m sorry. That was so mean,” I said.

“It was.” He gave me a little smile before opening his arms and wrapping me in a hug.

“He loved you so much, Ember.” I couldn’t speak, feeling the wetness back on my cheeks. “I failed him. I failed you.” I tried to shake the feeling off, but then his voice cracked and it was game over for me. Sobs racked my body, and I shook in his arms.

Marissa rubbed my arms, soothing me while telling me everything was okay. I didn’t know where she came from, but I was so oddly grateful for them.

“Everyone is right, though. It is my fault,” I said as I pulled away.

“It’s not. He had a lot of shit going on with him growing up with his father.” I turned back toward the sink and let Marissa wipe my tears with a washcloth before we went back to the living room, then I poured us each a shot.

“This type of conversation requires more booze,” Pico chimed in, and we all agreed.

After we downed the shots, I sat next to them before looking at Pico.

“Who changed the rules?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“The boss,” Marissa replied. I wasn’t sure who had taken over for Ash, but someone had to. I always assumed it was Pico.

“Who?” I pressed for more information.

Marissa exchanged a quick glance with Pico, then she whispered something to him. After a moment, she turned back to me and asked, “Are you sure you want to know the answer to that?”

I had asked out of mere curiosity, but now I felt a growing need to know. “Yeah.”

Pico gave Marissa’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Rain.”

“Of course it is,” I grumbled. Deep down, I knew Rain didn’t want this role. When I was initiated as Ash’s girlfriend, Rain had distanced himself from the club’s rituals. Ash had confided in me that he disliked these traditions, and I understood Rain’s involvement had been more out of obligation than personal desire.

I continued my questioning, “And what did the boss finally say?”

Pico sighed. “He said it was cool if I reached out.”

Of fucking course he did. My frustration with Rain’s newfound authority grew, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of anger. Who was he to suddenly create rules dictating when people could talk to me? I clenched my fists, struggling to contain my emotions.

Turning to Pico, I questioned, “Why is it okay now? Why is any of this normal?” My voice wavered with a mix of anger and confusion. “Just because he’s grieving too, doesn’t give him the right to act like an asshole.”

Pico shifted in his seat. “You’re right. It doesn’t.”

Anger welled up, and I wanted nothing more than to stick it to Rain. Grief might have clouded his judgment, but it didn’t excuse his behavior. I had been through hell too, and I refused to let anyone dictate my life.

Finally, I turned to Marissa, my hands planted on my hips, and said, “You know what? I think I do need to go to that party tonight.”

I did have his camera I needed to return.

“Am I on the list?” I asked Pico. He shook his head.

“You’ll struggle getting in. Security is tight, and honestly, they’ll know it’s you the minute you show up with your bodyguard.”

“He’s not coming,” I said. “I’ll sneak out.” I shot Marissa a knowing look, but I didn’t give a fuck.

“What did you tell him you were coming to talk to me about?” I asked, knowing the rules of the club enough to know Pico had to ask permission to come here.

“Just checking in to see how you were doing after yesterday.”

I didn’t know why but that made me even more upset. He could have called me to ask. He could have come over, but no, he wouldn’t dare do that. Like he didn’t check in these last eight months, what made this any different?

I excused myself to my room and grabbed the camera from my backpack before going back out to the living room.

“This is Rain’s camera he left behind in class. I guess it would only be just if I returned it to its proper owner.” I shrugged. I would not let my trauma dictate my decisions. When I was in therapy, I learned I needed to overcome the pain, and this felt like something I needed to face on my own. I was just going to deliver a camera.

Marissa and Pico exchanged knowing looks before Marissa grinned and said, “Hell yeah you should.”

It took me a minute to find the perfect outfit in my closet. I wanted something that felt comfortable, but also knew if I was going to one of these parties, I would need to blend in, so I grabbed one of the skimpy dresses I had borrowed from Maddy’s closet, but it didn’t feel like anything I wanted to wear right now. I glanced down at my ratty ass, comfortable sweats.

“Fuck that,” I grumbled as soon as I heard a knock on my door. “Marissa?” I shouted from the hallway. Something sounded off. She had just left with Pico, and by the way they were all over each other, I assumed they wouldn’t come back immediately.

I made my way over to the door and looked in the peephole, but found nothing. I shrugged it off, and then the knock happened again, so I rushed back to the peep hole but still found nothing.

My heart racing, the knocking sounded again, more insistent this time, but the peephole still showed no one. Doubt and anxiety gnawed at me, making me question my sanity. I couldn’t ignore my gut feeling.

In a hurry, I dialed Santiago’s number, my voice laced with concern when he picked up. “Someone is at my door. I don’t know—” A door was slammed open in the hallway.

Santiago’s voice took on a serious tone. “Stay inside. I’m coming.”

I hung up and stepped away from the door, my heart pounding in my chest. The inexplicable knocking and the subsequent commotion in the hallway sent shivers down my spine, leaving me with a sense of impending danger I couldn’t shake. The seconds felt like hours, and I was on the verge of panic. My mind raced with a thousand questions and scenarios, none of which made any sense.

Just as I was about to call Santiago back, my heartbeat intensified with a sudden rush of adrenaline. I could hear the struggle but could see nothing through the peephole.

My trembling hand hovered over the phone, torn between calling for help or staying hidden. Then the struggle subsided, replaced by a hushed conversation. Curiosity and fear swirled within me as I strained to hear what was being said.

I opened the door and saw Santiago with a female clutched to his chest, a gun pointed at her head.

“Get inside,” he demanded. Just as I was about to close the door again, I realized I recognized the girl in his arms. It was . . .

“Beatrice.” She was disheveled and bewildered. A shriek escaped my lips, a mixture of terror and relief as I recognized her.

Although I wouldn’t have considered her close, I assumed she would have reached out since we socialized a few times and she’d been there the night Ale kidnapped me.

“Santiago, stop. It’s Beatrice,” I shouted, my voice echoing in the corridor. “I know her.”

He released his grip, and they stood up, panting and bewildered. Santiago looked at me, his eyes wide and his cheeks pink. “I’m . . . sorry” he stammered.

Beatrice hurried over, her brows furrowed and her eyes darting around the scene. “W-what’s happening here?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty and a hint of fear, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

My emotions swirled—relief, anger, and an overwhelming need for answers. I turned to Beatrice, demanding, “Why were you incessantly knocking on my door and then leaving without a word? You scared me half to death.”

“I was coming to apologize. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just coming to tell you that I was sorry, but then I got scared, so I turned to leave.”

Santiago had let her go, and she gripped her neck where he’d had her in a chokehold. She was doubled over, her breath ragged.

“Who is that?” She turned to Santiago, whose face was blank as he stood tall in the hallway.

“Santiago, my bodyguard.” I introduced. “Because of all the hate I’ve been getting on campus, he needed to come for my safety.”

Beatrice winced, then took a hesitant step toward me.

“I came here to apologize. Do you think I could come in?”

I looked back at my empty apartment, then toward her and shook my head. “No,” I said. She never once reached out to me in the last eight months to acknowledge my feelings or emotions. And unlike Maddy who outwardly spoke of her hate for me, her quiet disregard of what I was going through was just as bad.

“Oh, okay . . .” She shoved her hands into her pockets, looking down. “I just wanted to say sorry for what happened—”

I held up my hand. “I don’t need an apology from you. I needed support when my boyfriend was no longer here, Beatrice. I don’t wish you any ill will or harm, but honestly, you need to leave.”

I was pissed off. The anger bubbling beneath the surface only fueled the need to see Rain.

Beatrice stepped back, her eyes heavy with guilt. “I understand, but I genuinely am sorry. I should’ve been there for you, and I wasn’t. I have no excuses. I listened too much to the gossip. You deserve more than an apology, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me someday.”

My emotions were a tangled mess as I locked eyes with her. Part of me longed to hear her apology, and another part resented her for not being there when I needed her most. It was a battle that left me conflicted.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, my voice softer. “But for now, I need space.”

Beatrice seemed to understand and turned to leave. Santiago stood there, and she gave him a quick nod before walking around him. She hesitated at the elevator, looking back at me. “If you ever need someone to talk to, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I mean it.”

I offered her a small wary smile. “Thank you, Beatrice. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Santiago gave me a silent nod before retreating into his apartment.

“Thank you,” I mumbled as I shut the door, feeling the weight of the unexpected encounter. Part of me wanted to believe that her apology was sincere, but my trust had been shattered, and it wasn’t something that could easily be mended. The turmoil in my heart only served as a reminder of how much I longed for Rain’s presence and support, and I wondered if that was the part I needed to fix first before I could forgive anyone else.