OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: OF HANDS THAT HELD, CHILDREN WHO KNEW, AND A LOVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: OF HANDS THAT HELD, CHILDREN WHO KNEW, AND A LOVE THAT REFUSED TO BREAK

Riyee's POV

We decided to stay on the Arcanum House rooftop. Decided to ditch classes. Not so President-ish of KD but he doesn't seem to care. Neither did I.

The world below could wait. Let the corrupted councils choke on their denials. Let the School Board drown in holiday PR events and peppermint distractions. Let the rest of Supreme Allievo pretend nothing cracked beneath their polished tiles.

Up here, there was wind and sky. No judgment. No expectations. The rooftop didn't ask questions.

Up here, we were just...
Riyee and KD.

Not the Heart of Ardent Court.

Not the Ice President of Supreme Allievo Academy.

Just two people sitting against a rusting water tank, cross-legged on sun-warmed concrete. My head leaned gently against his shoulder. His blazer bunched beneath him. The world finally quiet.

KD's pulse had settled. Finally. No more violent spikes. No more flickering fractures. No more silent screams through the link I wore around my neck like a lifeline.

"Your hand is so small," he whispered.

He was holding it—not in a romantic, movie-scene way. More like he was studying it. Memorizing the shape, the weight, the way it fit in his. Like holding my hand was keeping him tethered to something real.

I raised an eyebrow, catching the faintest edge of vulnerability in his gaze—something he rarely let anyone see.

"My hand might be small," I replied, "but it can slap you hard, just so you know."

I tilted my head to look at him.

"Wanna test the intensity?"

He didn't flinch.
Didn't smirk either.
He smiled.

A slow, quiet one. The kind that tugged at the edges of something softer, like sunlight trying to peek through stormclouds.

And then, softly—he laughed.

Just once.

But it wasn't a broken sound.
Wasn't a Lucem possibility.

It was just...
KD.

Over the line of my comms, a chuckle crackled—mischief-laced, unmistakably Saichel. A second later, a calmer voice slid in—crisp, clipped, low.

Xythe.

"All paths are secure," he said. "The bodies of the attackers you disabled were retrieved and neutralized. Thres and Seb handled cleanup. No breaches. No traces left behind."

The edge in his voice meant more than what he said. No traces meant no mercy.

I let out a slow breath, eyes still fixed on the clouds.

"Everything's clear now, Ari." Xythe added.

For now.

I turned off the comms.

Below this rooftop, the academy had no idea what the Ardent Court just did to protect their precious Student Council President. No idea that there were assassins cloaked in Halcyon-grade Veil distortions walking their corridors. No idea that a war protocol buried in KD's blood nearly woke.

Somewhere in the lower halls, the remaining Council members were probably already scrubbing files. Erasing ties. Deleting names.

The Halcyon sympathizers we'd flagged were slipping back into shadows. Or worse—waiting.