Deadly desires: the Donna's obsession.

School had dismissed for the day and students rushed out, some laughing with their friends, and others running to their cars.

Killian joined neither.

He strode through the school courtyard, his bag slung over one shoulder and his head tilted down, lost in thought. His eyes seemed unfocused, though the tension in his jaw betrayed the storm beneath his calm exterior.

As he approached the school gates, a low growl of an engine caught his attention.

A black car rolled to a stop right in front of him, blocking his path.

His brows furrowed, irritation flashing across his face. He didn't need to see the window roll down to know who it was.

And when the tinted glass slid away, his suspicions were confirmed.

His father, Mario Black, sat in the back, his sharp features bearing the scars of years in the underworld.

A faint line ran from the corner of his left eyebrow to his cheekbone, a testament to battles fought and survived. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed back, but the stray strands falling across his forehead gave him a rough edge. Smoke curled lazily from the cigarette balanced between his fingers, the air around him heavy with the scent of tobacco.

Killian's frown deepened. "What do you want?"

Mario took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke that lingered between them. "Get in," he ordered, leaving no room for argument.

Killian's eyes narrowed. "I don't want to."

The corner of Mario's mouth twitched, though it was hard to tell if it was amusement or annoyance. "I wasn't asking."

Killian crossed his arms over his chest, standing his ground. "And I'm not moving."

Mario's demeanor shifted slightly, the air around him growing heavier. His cold gaze sharpened, a flicker of something dangerous flashing in his eyes. "Killian," he growled. "Get in the car!"

His presence radiated a dangerous intensity that seemed to press down on everything around him. Some students paused, glancing nervously at the scene, though none dared approach.

Killian on the other hand didn't even flinch. He barely blinked. Standing there, he staring back at his father like a statue.

Mario finally sighed, touching the bridge of his nose. "You definitely didn't get this character from me." He muttered, shaking his head.

After a minute or so, he leaned back in his seat and took another slow drag from his cigarette. "I have something important to discuss with you," he said, his tone shifting to something more serious.

Killian raised a brow, caught off guard by the sudden change in demeanor.

His father wasn't one for earnestness, and the rare moments he showed it were never without reason.

For a moment, he hesitated, weighing his options. Finally, with a reluctant huff, he stepped forward and opened the door, sliding into the passenger seat.

The leather interior smelled of tobacco and faint cologne, the air thick with tension. Mario didn't look at him right away, instead taking his time to stub out his cigarette in the ashtray. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out another, offering it to him.

Killian shook his head. "I don't smoke."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged, lighting the cigarette and taking a drag.

"So? What's this about?"

Mario exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his expression unreadable. "I heard she's at your school."

Killian didn't need clarification. He knew exactly who he was talking about. "Yeah."

His father's eyes flicked to him, the weight of his gaze making the space between them feel even smaller. "Do you know why she's there?"

"No," Killian admitted, his fingers drumming against the armrest. "But does it matter? I'll make sure she doesn't leave."

Mario chuckled lowly, though there was no humor in it. "You think it's that simple?"

"Isn't it? She's dangerous and I'll deal with her."

"Dangerous," Mario repeated the word, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "That's one word for her." He exhaled another cloud of smoke, his gaze distant. "But your wrong, boy. You don't even know what you're dealing with. She's more than just dangerous. She's a fucking forest fire waiting to burn you alive."

Killian's grip tightened on the armrest. "And yet, you don't seem too worried. Why is that?"

"Let's just say I've seen her kind before."

"What does that even mean?"

Mario didn't answer immediately. Instead, he flicked the cigarette out the window, watching the embers scatter against the pavement. "Just don't underestimate her. That girl isn't playing the same game as the rest of us."

Killian's expression darkened. "You seem to know a lot about her."

"I know enough to tell you not to go m anywhere close to her."

Killian scoffed. "And why is that, because you don't want me to find out about what you did." He tilted his head, his gaze hardening. "You think I don't know you sent that monster to kill my mother, ten years ago."

The air in the car seemed to shift, the weight of Killian's accusation hanging heavy between them.

Mario's expression didn't falter. "And what if I did?"

Killian's hands curled into fists, his eyes burning with fury.

He tried searching his father's face, to see if he would see even an ounce of regret, but he didn't.

All he saw was complete indifference and maybe even disdain.

He gritted his teeth. "Then I'll kill her. I'll use her fucking blood to avenge my mother."

Mario chuckled coldly. "Bold of you to say that. But you better be sure you're the hunter, boy. Because if you're not..." He leaned in slightly. "You'll end up as prey."

"I know exactly what I'm doing."

"We'll see." Mario grinned, leaning back.

Without another word, Killian opened the door and stepped out, slamming it shut behind him.

Mario watched him go, his smirk fading into an unreadable expression.

Taking another slow drag from a fresh cigarette, he couldn't help muttering to himself. "He's just like his mother, always thinking they're better than the rest of us."

---

The city lights blurred past Scarlett as she sped through the streets, her Lamborghini purring beneath her. The quiet hum of the engine barely registered over the storm brewing in her head.

Killian.

That tattooed little shit had lodged himself in her brain like a goddamn splinter.

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, her knuckles whitening. The way he'd ignored her, brushed her off, walked away without so much as a second glance—it had been a long time since anyone dared to dismiss her like that.

Even at lunch, when she'd walked past him, he hadn't looked up. When she'd "accidentally" dropped her pen in front of his desk, he hadn't spared her a glance.

But Aria? Oh, she got plenty of attention. A smile here, a laugh there. That blondie didn't have to do anything, and he still looked at her like she mattered.

Her nails dug into the leather steering wheel as a scowl pulled at her lips.

And don't even bother asking why this got her angry do much.

Imagine being stared at by two different colored eyes like you were nothing.

It wasn't just infuriating. It was rude.

The only bright spot in her day was finally getting rid of Luca and her guards. She'd ordered them to leave after school, claiming she needed "alone time to think."

Luca, of course, had hesitated at first, but eventually left, taking her guards with him.

Now, she finally had some peace and quiet, or so she thought.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a chime from the Bluetooth speaker.

The screen on the dash lit up with Russo.

She huffed, pressing the button on the steering wheel. "What?"

"Ah, my little disciple, is that any way to greet your master?"

Scarlett rolled her eyes, her foot pressing a little harder on the gas. "I've had a long day."

"Luca did mention you sent him home early," Russo noted, his tone laced with amusement. "You couldn't stand his company anymore?"

"I didn't need a babysitter," she snapped. "He was cramping my style."

Russo chuckled. "I see. So, how was your first day?"

Her lips twisted into a smirk. "Thrilling. Algebra, teenage drama, and the riveting smell of hormonal desperation. Really a step up from my usual."

Russo laughed softly. "You always did have a way with words. Did you meet him?"

Her smirk vanished, her jaw tightening. "Yes."

"And?"

"And what? He's...annoying."

Russo's laughter rumbled through the speakers. "Annoying is good. It means he got under your skin."

Scarlett's grip on the wheel tightened further, her nails biting into the leather. "What do you want, Russo? I don't have time for your games."

"Oh, but you do," he replied, before his tone suddenly dropped, all humor gone. "I'm not just sending you there to get close to Killian Black, Scarlett. There's something else I need you to find."

She frowned, her foot easing off the gas. "What are you talking about?"

"A book," he said, his voice cutting through the static of her growing unease. "It belonged to his mother. Black leather, gold embossing. You'll know it when you see it."

"A book?" Scarlett repeated. "You sent me here for a fucking book?"

"You'll find it in his possession," Russo continued, ignoring her tone. "It has a letter on the front. A single 'X.' "

Scarlett blinked, her mind suddenly racing. "What's in it?"

"Answers."

"Answers to what?"

"Everything."

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them pressing against her chest.

She opened her mouth to demand more, but a faint flicker in her rearview mirror suddenly caught her eye.

A black SUV.

Its headlights too close, honked at her.

Now that she thought about it, this car had actually been following her ever since she left the school.

Her eyes narrowed, adrenaline cutting through her frustration.

"Russo, I'll call you back," she said abruptly, her voice colder than before.

"Scarlett—"

She cut the line, her fingers tapping a button on the steering wheel to disconnect.

The SUV's lights stayed steady, its engine humming like it was stalking a prey.

"Well, this just got interesting." she smirked, her foot pressing down on the gas.