Mikhailov
Chapter One — “Mikhailov”
The bike came first.
Black, matte, quiet.
The kind that didn’t roar down the street—it whispered through it, like it didn’t need to prove anything.
Luka Mikhailov pulled off the helmet and shook his hair loose. Cold morning air bit at his neck. He didn’t flinch. Just took a breath and exhaled, long and slow, like he was getting rid of something.
Black gloves.
Black coat.
Black mood.
The university courtyard was already stirring with noise—shoes on pavement, girls laughing into phones, someone asking where the library building was for the hundredth time.
He walked through it untouched.
“Oi, Luka!” Mason waved him over, perched on the railing like a prince in designer sneakers.
Jace leaned against the wall beside him, earbuds in, smirking.
Reid had two takeaway coffees in his hands, one already half empty.
“You look like a funeral,” Reid said, handing one cup to Luka.
Luka took it. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Grim Reaper.”
They were loud sometimes. Not stupid.
All three of them matched his vibe—clean, sharp, intimidating in that effortless way.
People didn’t mess with them.
Not because they were cruel. Just... unreadable.
No one knew Luka’s mother still called him Lukashka when she forgot he was grown.
Or that he texted his father in clipped, proper German—like the wrong word might snap the line between them.
Or that he still wore a silver cross beneath his shirt—faith quiet and steady like breath.
The boys knew a little. Enough.
They were his.
At least… for now.
Reid nodded toward the lecture building.
“She here yet?”
Luka’s gaze barely moved. “No.”
But then she was.
Irina.
Wool jumper, long coat, scarf knotted once around her neck.
She walked like someone who didn’t know people stared.
Or maybe she did—but didn’t care.
Chiara and Tess flanked her, deep in conversation.
Luka didn’t hear what they said. Didn’t need to.
As she passed, her eyes flicked to him for just a breath.
A glance.
A smile.
Small. Controlled. Meant only for him.
The kind of smile you’d miss unless it was yours.
Jace whistled low under his breath.
“She doesn’t miss.”
Mason grinned. “If I had a girl like that, I wouldn’t shut up about it.”
Luka sipped his coffee.
Didn’t reply.
He liked it quiet.
He liked it theirs.
Only their friends knew.
Mason, Reid, Jace.
Chiara, Tess.
That was enough.
When they filed into the lecture hall, Luka didn’t follow them to the middle rows.
He peeled off toward the back, quiet steps, eyes scanning like always.
Not paranoid. Just aware.
Irina sat three rows ahead. She didn’t turn.
But she tucked her hair behind her ear with her left hand—where the thin band sat, silver and simple.
The one he gave her.
The one no one asked about.
And he liked it that way.
He pulled out his notebook. Wrote nothing.
Just tapped the pen once against the page and listened to the silence inside himself.
Some people chase what they want.
Some people just… hold it differently.
End of Chapter One.
