The bell had barely finished ringing when Elarion Voss dragged his twin sister into the rarely used staff-adjacent washroom on the third floor of Albinos Academy's main hall. The heavy oak door clicked shut behind them. Elara's heart hammered against her ribs as her brother pushed her into the farthest stall, locking it with a soft, decisive click.
Both in their academy uniforms. Elarion's crimson blazer was slightly rumpled, the long red robe pushed back over his shoulders, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top. His silver hair was tousled, icy-blue eyes burning with that familiar, dangerous hunger. Elara's own uniform—crimson blazer hugging her voluptuous chest, pleated black skirt, thigh-high stockings, and the flowing robe—looked far less composed. Her long white ponytail had loosened during their hurried escape through the corridors.
"Brother… someone might come in…" Elara whispered, voice already trembling, but her hands were already clutching the front of his blazer.
