The snow kept falling.
White flakes drifted slowly through the cold night air, covering the academy courtyard in silence.
But the silence didn't last.
Inside Artyom's dorm room, the aftermath of the fight was impossible to hide. Broken furniture, shattered glass, and three assassins lying motionless on the floor.
Artyom wiped the blood from his arm with a cloth.
The bullet graze stung, but it wasn't serious.
He had survived worse.
What bothered him more was the poison.
The assassin had killed himself before revealing anything.
Which meant whoever sent them was careful.
Powerful.
And very afraid of being discovered.
Artyom stepped toward the broken window.
Down in the courtyard, Adrian Volkov was still standing there.
Watching.
Their eyes met again.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Adrian turned and walked toward the dormitory entrance.
A few minutes later, footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Artyom didn't move when the door slowly opened.
Adrian stepped inside.
His sharp gaze immediately scanned the room.
The broken table.
The blood on the floor.
The unconscious bodies.
And finally…
Artyom.
Adrian let out a quiet breath.
"So it's true."
Artyom leaned casually against the wall.
"What is?"
Adrian walked closer, his boots crunching over broken glass.
"The Morozov heir is alive."
The words hung in the air like a loaded gun.
Artyom's expression didn't change.
"You're assuming a lot."
Adrian stopped only a few steps away.
"Your fighting style."
He gestured toward the fallen assassins.
"Your enemies."
His eyes darkened slightly.
"And the fact that three professional killers broke into a student dorm to eliminate you."
Artyom gave a faint smirk.
"That could happen to anyone."
Adrian didn't smile.
"No."
His voice lowered.
"It happens to people who are worth killing."
For a moment the tension between them was thick.
Then Adrian stepped even closer.
Now they stood face to face.
"You should leave this place," Adrian said quietly.
Artyom raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
Adrian's eyes flickered briefly toward the bodies.
"Because whoever sent them will send more."
Artyom tilted his head slightly.
"You sound worried."
Adrian looked directly into his silver eyes.
"I'm being practical."
Artyom studied him for a moment.
Then he asked something unexpected.
"Why are you helping me?"
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
Instead, his gaze dropped briefly to Artyom's injured arm.
Blood still stained the sleeve.
Finally Adrian spoke.
"Because if the Morozov heir dies inside my academy…"
His voice became colder.
"…it will start a war my family isn't ready for."
Artyom laughed quietly.
"Your family is afraid of war?"
Adrian's lips curved slightly.
"No."
His eyes sharpened.
"But we prefer to choose when it starts."
The tension in the room shifted again.
For the first time that night, Artyom realized something important.
Adrian wasn't just curious.
He was calculating.
Dangerous in a completely different way.
Then Adrian glanced at the dead assassin on the floor.
"There's another problem."
Artyom followed his gaze.
"What?"
Adrian looked back at him.
"Someone powerful knows you're alive."
The snow outside continued falling.
And somewhere in the dark city beyond the academy walls…
A new set of hunters had already begun preparing.