I had spent the entire weekend inside the flat, ignoring all messages except Quinn's. I didn't have the energy to socialise any more than that. It wasn't until Monday morning that I mustered the energy to shower, dress, and step outside. And it was only then that I finally checked my chat with Roman and acknowledged his countless messages - and that was only because I knew I would see him at our 8am lecture.

I didn't bother to explain where I'd been or what I'd been doing, other than to briefly mention that I hadn't felt well. Thankfully, Roman had left it at that. I knew that I had held us back in terms of our project progress though, and my guilt had me scheduling a meetup in the student library after my early 4pm training session with Dev.

I nearly hadn't gone out of fear of running into any of the guys; but I'd owed it to Dev to show up after bailing on the Friday session. Thankfully, by some stroke of good fortune, Dev informed me that Markus had the next few days booked off from work.

It was after six when I scanned my student card at the entrance to the library. A group of loud students followed behind me, with far too much energy than one would expect of people who were presumably about to spend their Monday evening revising or working on assignments. In contrast to their boisterous laughs, and endless chatter, I was yawning as I pushed through the turnstile and messaged Roman of my arrival. Although I had spent most of the weekend sleeping to avoid all kinds of stress and anxiety I was feeling, I still felt exhausted and in no way capable or focussing on our joint project.

"Idiot," I huffed under my breath, heading to the second floor where all the best tables for studying were, though I couldn't be too mad considering I had abandoned our first study date on Thursday.

The first floor of the University library - dedicated to silent studying - comprised long computer desks that paralleled the central row of bookshelves. It was the best floor to be on if you were there to work on essay work alone and needed to focus.

The second floor had no such noise ban and was ideal for group meetings. While on one side of the large room there were a cluster of Apple computers all updated with the most recent adobe software - better suited to students of Thorpefield Uni's 'School of Fine and Performing Arts' compared to the outdated computers one floor down that struggled with anything beyond Microsoft Word or PowerPoint - the other side of the room had around twenty oval desks perfect for those who had brought their own computers or needed to discuss things in groups. If students had really prepared for their studying, there were even private rooms available to book on the third and final floor of the library.

Although it was only early October, and a few weeks into the academic year, the library was unreasonably packed, and there were no tables with enough spaces for both Roman and me until I reached the very end of the long room. There was only one table up against the far wall that had any space at all, with three available chairs. It's only occupant, armed with an intense expression and a laptop, had proven to be a fearsome adversary against those in already search of a study space.

What the hell was he doing here?

I noticed almost immediately a pair of two tired looking students hovering to the left of me, eyeing the study space and its sole resident with apprehension as they held stacks of books against their chest.

Stood at a complete stop in the narrow aisle of the library, I stared at Markus with panic welling up inside me. No part of me had ever thought I'd see him here on campus. I hadn't even known he was a student.

All morning I'd thought about whether I wanted to see him or any of the guys again. With Roman, I had no choice. He was in all my classes and we had a project to work on together. I had to see Roman again. Had I really wanted to avoid Markus though, I could have quit the gym or begged Ellen to change my shifts back at work, returned to my lunch time training sessions with Dev, and continue to train without ever running into him again, as I had all throughout my first year of Uni.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

What was I supposed to do now? Turn around and walk away? I couldn't abandon yet another study session with Roman. There was an overwhelming desire to flee back towards the ground floor of the library and wait like a coward for Roman to arrive. But the two students to my left were still standing there, murmuring to each other as if trying to summon the courage to approach Markus and the table he was hoarding.

We needed to work in the library tonight. We needed access to the books for our initial research. How would I face Roman, having known that I had fled from Markus so easily, compromising yet another of our study sessions? I wasn't a coward. I wasn't a fucking coward.

Quinn's advice to talk to Markus was at the front of my mind as I watched him staring at his laptop. He was in the same black hoodie I always saw him in, wearing an awfully intense scowl on his face as he focussed on his work. On the table beside him was a pile of creased and folded sheets of paper, a lone pen, his phone, and a near empty water bottle.

He looked tired and frustrated and, in this new setting, strangely more approachable. He no longer looked like some terrifying tattooed biker. Instead, he resembled something far more familiar; a stressed out student.

Drawing in a shaky breath, I somehow summoned the courage to approach him, despite how fast my heart was beating and the fact that the mere sight of him left me feeling a little sick. My steps were awkward, and I knew it was because I was overthinking every move I made, even though he had absolutely no awareness of my presence.

Pausing at the edge of the table, I cleared my throat when his attention didn't shift from his laptop, and uttered a strained sounding, pathetically lacking, "Hey."

Still, Markus barely shifted his focus. I watched as he slowly, painfully slowly, dragged his gaze from his screen. Only when he finally looked up, and his eyes met mine, did it seemingly register to him I was standing there. He reached up and removed two black, wireless earbuds I hadn't noticed before now.

"Daisy," he said, gruffly. He seemed surprised for all of two seconds before he tensed and his expression transformed into a frown. He said nothing else. I shuffled uncertainly on my feet.

Why had I even come over here? Why did I think this was a good idea?

"Uh... Do you mind if I sit here?" I asked, gesturing to the table.

Again, he took a while to respond. He looked at the empty chairs I'd gestured to, as if confused by my request, before nodding hesitantly.

"Thanks. How long have you been here?" I didn't sit down, or move at all from where I stood, eyeing his set-up once again.

"Since this morning." His frown deepened.

"Shit." That was a long fucking time to be sitting in the Library. I wasn't sure I'd even be able to sit in one place for so long, let alone work.

"Yeah." Leaning back in his chair, he watched me far too intently, his expression not wavering. "Can we talk ab-"

I cut him off quickly, my voice sounding too sharp to my own ears as I asked, "Have you eaten anything today?" There was no sign of food on the table, unlike the countless other students who had settled in for the night with various snacks and the odd Tesco-meal-deal. The only evidence that he'd stopped at all to eat or drink anything was his water bottle.

He shook his head. "I'll get something once I've finished this."

I bent forward to get a closer look at the illuminated screen of his laptop. Page 99 of 262. I didn't know how fast Markus could read, and if he intended to read all one-hundred-something pages, but I could surmise that it would be a long time before he finished. How did someone who looked as athletic as he did, survive without eating? I'd eaten something on my walk over here, and already my stomach was growling at me for more.

What a fucking moron.

"Are we-"

"Watch my stuff." I said abruptly, cutting him off again. I dumped my laptop bag and water-bottle on the table. He nodded stiffly, and I didn't wait for a verbal response as I turned on my heels and quickly headed back towards the entrance of the library, where I knew the small pop-up café was still open for another thirty minutes. Their prices were extortionate and there was hardly a good selection of food and drinks, but there was nothing to be done when they were the only café in the near vicinity that was open at this time of night. I could have walked to the nearby Tesco to buy actual food - if I had really wanted to avoid facing Markus for another fifteen minutes - but even I wasn't so compelled by my cowardice that it overrode my innate laziness.

The only genuine issue I faced, as I eyed the small café cart in the library's foyer, was that I had absolutely no idea what Markus liked. The only thing I'd ever seen him eat was a bowl of chips.

When I returned, carrying two hot drinks in one hand and two sandwiches in the other, I made my return clear by sliding the sandwiches with a little too much force across the table until one hit him on the side of his arm and ricocheted onto the floor. It startled him enough that he jolted back from his laptop and rocked back precariously in his chair. I placed a cup on the table next to his laptop, eyeing it with faux-disgust. "They didn't have any of that matcha crap you drink, so I just got you a green tea, and I don't know what you eat, so you've got a choice between a vegan chicken salad sandwich, or ham and cheese."

Markus looked amused as he bent down to pick up the vegan sandwich that had fallen onto the carpet, and he was obviously trying to fight back a smile.

"I thought you'd refuse to buy me another drink after last time," he said with a quiet laugh as he read the label of the sandwich, referring of course to the absolute disgust I had shown towards the matcha latte he had ordered previously.

I pursed my lips at him and crossed my arms against my chest, huffing as I asked, "Do you want it or not?"

"Thanks. And thanks for the sandwich." He waved the vegan sandwich in the air. Okay, so either he was vegan, or he just liked vegan food.

"No problem."

I finally took a seat at the table, taking out my laptop, and turned it on while I checked my phone for any more messages from Roman. There was nothing. I typed a quick message to let him know where I was sitting, my eyes drifting from the small screen to Markus. He was watching me intently. Whatever traces of amusement had vanished from his expression, his mouth arranged into a flat line that had me wondering whether he already regretted sharing the table with me.

Actively avoiding any conversation with him, I unpacked my bag as slowly as possible. Notebooks I wouldn't be using, a sketchbook I didn't need, a packet of gum, pencils and even a couple of highlighters (that I knew didn't work anymore) filled the table. Markus wasn't working, his laptop forgotten as he watched me. I feigned obliviousness.

"We going to talk about it?" He asked, after I had finally finished setting up. I'm not sure why I found myself surprised by how quickly he wanted to address last Thursday. It was all I had been thinking about since. It wasn't so beyond belief to think that Markus may have also thought of it in the past few days.

It was cowardly, but I'd rather avoid the topic entirely. I was scared to broach the subject with Markus. I was scared to ask him about what had happened last Thursday, because I feared the truth he would reveal. I didn't want to ask him about the Wraith or why they were familiar with one another. The only reason I was sitting here with him at all right now was because of Quinn's assurance that Markus was not involved with Wraith - but what if Quinn was wrong? At my silence, Markus continued, "How about I talk, then?"

He shifted in his seat and closed his laptop. "I know you know Jun, so you probably know exactly who Wraith is. I don't know what happened outside the gym to make you so scared, or why you ran from me."

"You think I was running from you?" I asked, finally meeting his heavy stare. He looked away immediately, his eyes falling just above my nose.

"You ran away from something."

I had run away from him; I had run away from him, his friends, and the looming threat of their involvement with Wraith - a dangerous man that had once harassed me for months. The same man that had befriended my brother and introduced him to a life of drugs, theft, and all-round shittiness. The man that Jun and the others had saved me from.

"What happened outside?" Markus asked in a low tone, his jaw clenching, clearly not afraid to question me so frankly. I usually preferred it when others were so direct with me; it left little room for misunderstandings on my part. But I wished he would leave the topic alone.

"One of Wraith's guys told me to pass on a message to Lynch," I explained the obvious, neglecting to mention that I was related to that someone. I didn't want to talk about that with Markus. I was ashamed of Jarred, my brother, a man who chose to associate himself with such horrible people, despite knowing what had been done.

"They didn't hurt or threaten you?"

It didn't feel like a lie as I shook my head. They hadn't threatened me this time. Though, had it been anyone but Jarred in the alley, that reality might be different.

"I didn't know you were a student," I said, determined to steer the conversation elsewhere. I wasn't ready to talk about this yet, and especially not in Thorpefield's shitty library. I didn't feel like crying in front of all these strangers.

Markus grunted, scowling down at the table. "I study online. Accounting."

"Huh," I muttered. That was unexpected. With that revelation came the realisation that I didn't know how old Markus was. I knew nothing about him, beyond his job, where he lived, and the face he made when he came.

"So we're not going to talk about this, then?" Markus asked, sounding annoyed. "You're just going to avoid it, and avoid me?"

"I'm sitting with you right now, aren't I? How am I avoiding you?" My mum always said I was skilled at annoying people. She wasn't wrong.

"Fuck-sake," he cursed under his breath. A muscle in his jaw pulsed as he gritted his teeth and rubbed his jaw. The look he fixed me with was sharp and full of irritation. "Really?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"You didn't show up to the gym on Friday." Markus crossed his arms against his chest, leaning back in his chair.

"So? You're not supposed to train me Fridays, anyway."

Markus scoffed and opened his mouth to deliver was I was sure would be a biting remark. But a throat cleared above us, and I whipped my head up to see Roman sheepishly standing there at the other end of the table. He had a backpack hanging off one shoulder, the weight of it pulling at the material of his University hoodie awkwardly. "Am I interrupting?"

"No," Markus said gruffly, though the glare he directed at Roman suggested otherwise.

"Okay..." Roman shot me a pointed, curious look, and pulled out the chair beside me. He settled and began loudly unpacking his bag, ignorant to what we had just been discussing, and the fact Markus was watching me again. I couldn't read his expression, but I'd be an idiot not to know that he was still annoyed with me.

"Well fuck..." Roman cursed after a minute or so, finally noticing the looks between us and seeming exasperated. "I hadn't prepared myself to third-wheel in a public library all evening. So please try to keep the eye-fucking to a minimum."

The sheer absurdity of his statement - of how much he had misunderstood the tense atmosphere between Markus and I - had been enough to leave me gaping at him. And, in the two seconds I had looked away from Markus, the man was already out of his seat.

"I was just leaving," Markus said quietly, gathering his things with too much urgency. He didn't look at me again before he left.

***

"So..." Roman began after an hour of silent research between the two of us. We were still in the library, and thankfully, the second floor had cleared out somewhat since I arrived.

"So?" I asked, not looking up from my laptop screen where our notes occupied half of the screen, and the books we had selected to reach filled the other half.

"You've been tattooed by Jun."

My head shot up at the mention of her name. I was tense, and not at all convincing as I asked, "Who?" I didn't know why I had even tried to lie. Markus already knew of my connection to her. What did it matter if Roman knew, too? It was already too late to pretend otherwise.

"Come on, Daisy." Roman rolled his eyes. He pushed back from the table to stretch out his legs, leaning back in his chair as he stared up at the ceiling with a sigh and a coy smile that it felt smart to be distrustful of. "I work at Jun's studio. I recognised her design straight away. She has a picture up on her wall, for fuck's sake."

"Okay, yes. She's tattooed me." No part of me was prepared for the knowledge that Roman and Jun knew one another. He worked for her. Did Jun know Roman and I were friends? Had she told him to befriend me, to keep an eye on me?

"I think we both know Jun doesn't tattoo just anyone," Roman said simply. He sat up so suddenly, meeting my gaze. His smile widened. "You're a little cooler than I thought."

"Gee, thanks," I uttered dryly, lost on what else I could say.

"How do you know her? Is she your ex?"

"No, God no," I stressed, laughing a little at the shock of the question. I didn't elaborate further, instead asking, "How do you know her? How did you get a job there?"

"How do you think?" Roman asked, shrugging. "I'm an illustration student who wants to be a tattoo artist. Andres asked her to hook me up with a job. I don't tattoo anyone yet. I'm just an apprentice. Mostly I work as a receptionist while I practice designs and learn how to use the gun on oranges and shit. It's good money."

So Andres and Jun were on good terms. Perhaps Quinn was telling the truth. If Markus and his friends truly did associate with the Krakens, then there's no way Jun would have any relationship with them other than a hostile one.

"I didn't know you wanted to be a tattoo artist." I hadn't seen any tattoos on him - though I supposed all prospective tattoo artists didn't have to be covered in ink.

"I honestly can't believe you know Jun, and that you're close enough for her to tattoo you." Roman shook his head, seeming in awe of me. "Do you have any other tattoos?"

"I do."

"By Jun?"

"Yeah."

"Can I see them?" he asked eagerly, leaning closer.

"No."

"What? Why not?" Roman pouted. "Has Grim seen them?"

"Presumably. He has seen me naked."

"I'm so jealous. Wait - not like that, of course. Well, not to say you're not hot, you are, but I'm not- huh..." He laughed at himself. "Anyway, what the fuck was up with you and Grim? The air was tense, mate. I thought for sure some nasty little hate sex was about to happen in the middle of the table."

I pursed my lips, shooting Roman a dirty look as my cheeks flushed a little. "Don't project your pervy fantasies onto us."

"Shut up. Let me enjoy my pervy fantasies in peace." He shoved me playfully. "Seriously, though, what was up with that? You two fighting already?"

I shrugged half-heartedly, not sure what to say. I wasn't about to discuss my history with the Krakens or the Night Witches with Roman, no matter who he worked for or who he was related to. I wasn't sure I could trust him to keep it to himself.

"You say that as if it's inevitable that we'd be fighting."

"Well, aren't you guys practically dating? You're gonna' argue now and again."

"We're not dating. I barely know the guy. Jeez, we literally slept together once, and now everyone's acting as if we're bloody married."

"Okay," Roman breathed, holding up his hands in surrender. "Chill out."

That was the wrong thing to say if Roman wanted me to calm down. Instantly my irritation grew, and my hands became animated as I ranted, "I literally didn't expect to ever see him again. If I knew he worked at the stupid gym, I wouldn't have slept with him in the first place. Do you know how mortifying it was to run into him there the day after? Especially when all his bloody friends clearly knew what had happened!"

"He, ah-" Roman choked back a laugh. "He doesn't work there. Well, he doesn't just work there. He owns it."

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, gaping at him.

"Well, he co-owns it. Him and Dev. You didn't know?" Roman asked with a grin, as if it wasn't so clearly obvious that I was reeling from this revelation. I couldn't even wrap my head around it.

"How? How old is he? How does he own a gym?" He was a student, for fuck's sake! Here I was, barely able to afford the extortionate rent for my student flat, that my loans didn't even cover, and Markus owned a fucking business?

"Uh..." Roman scratched the back of his head. "I don't know, like, twenty-five? He's a few months younger than my brother, but his birthday is sometime soon. His dad and Dev opened it together, and now Grim helps run it."

I bit back a groan. "Brilliant, so I can't escape him even if I wanted to."

There was no telling for sure that I would avoid Markus even if I returned to my usual training times. If he owned the damn gym, he could be there whenever he wanted to be. Presuming he even wanted to see me again - he'd seemed perfectly inclined to leave me alone from now on, with the way he'd stormed out of here.

God, everything was a bit of a mess.

I sighed heavily, half laying on my laptop as I buried my head into my hands. My voice muffled, I uttered, "Can we just go get the books we need and call it a day?"

Roman patted me on the back, showing absolutely no compassion as he continued to laugh to himself. It did very fucking little to comfort me.

[So we've had a little more revealed about Daisy's past, thoughts?]