Whispers Between The Walls

Name: Whispers Between The Walls
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Dray1

Romance | Ongoing

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At Ravencroft Academy, secrets are currency-and Elena Vale is broke. When seventeen-year-old Elena wins a scholarship to Ravencroft, an elite boarding school tucked into the stormy cliffs of Scotland, she expects stone walls, stiff uniforms, and too many rules. What she doesn't expect is Julian Alden: heir to a vast aristocratic fortune, flawlessly charming-and already engaged. But Julian isn't the only mystery Ravencroft has to offer. Theo Moreau, the brooding, artistic loner with a French accent and a haunted past, seems determined to protect her... or warn her. As Elena is pulled deeper into the school's dark traditions, her heart becomes torn between two dangerous boys-and the lies they've wrapped themselves in. She'll soon learn that the most dangerous walls are not the ones built of stone... but the ones built around the heart. In a world where power is everything, falling in love could be her biggest mistake.

Suspense Modern Love triangle Multiple identities Attractive Arrogant/Dominant Romance

Chapter 6 A Name Like Glass

The day before yesterday 18:41

Chapter 1 The Edge Of The World

I watched the gates of Ravencroft Academy rise from the fog like they'd been carved out of the cliffs themselves-tall, iron, and heartless. The car rolled to a stop, the smell of salt and rain thick in the air, and I tightened my grip on the cracked leather strap of my bag.

"You look like you're going to throw up," a voice said from beside me.

I turned. A girl in the car's other seat scrolled casually through her phone, lips glossed and perfectly disinterested. Her blazer looked tailored. Her eyebrows looked expensive.

"I'm fine," I lied.

She looked up at me properly now, one eyebrow arched like it had a life of its own. "No one's fine on their first day at Ravencroft. They're either terrified... or pretending not to be."

She returned to her screen. I swallowed hard.

Outside, students moved like they'd done this their whole lives-laughing, greeting each other with air kisses and lazy waves. Drivers in black coats unloaded monogrammed trunks from town cars. I was the only one with a duffel bag held together by desperation and duct tape.

My name was on a list. My tuition paid by a scholarship I still half-believed was a mistake. I was here because someone somewhere thought I was "exceptional." But staring at the stone towers above me, I felt about as exceptional as a moth on a window.

I stepped out into the cold.

---

Ravencroft was colder than I'd expected. Not just in temperature, but in tone. The hallways were stone, lined with portraits that looked like they whispered when you passed. A maid in gray led me through a side entrance and up two flights of narrow stairs.

"The South Wing," she said. "Third-floor girls. This used to be the servant quarters."

"Fitting," I muttered, earning a smirk from her before she turned and left.

I dropped my bag on the small twin bed in the corner of my room. The window overlooked the forest beyond the cliffs. Rain drizzled against the glass like fingers tapping to be let in.

There were already whispers about me before the day ended.

"She's the scholarship girl."

"American."

"Did you hear she got expelled from her last school?"

That last one wasn't true. But at Ravencroft, the truth was just the opening line of a better story.

---

That night, during the Welcome Dinner, I met him.

Julian Alden.

The dining hall fell silent the moment he entered. Like gravity bowed to him.

He walked with the ease of someone who'd never been told "no" in his life-broad-shouldered, polished, tailored down to the cufflinks engraved with the Alden family crest. When he smiled, it was slow, like a secret.

He passed my table, glanced at me-and paused.

Just for a moment. Long enough to make my heart stutter in its chest.

"New," he said, voice velvet-soft. Not a question. A statement.

I nodded, suddenly self-conscious of the school-issued uniform and the way it hung wrong on my frame.

"You'll want to avoid the East Wing after midnight," he added, voice lower now. "That's when the walls start to whisper back."

Then he was gone.

---

Later that night, I wandered into the old art wing-trying to escape the pressure in the air, the expectation baked into every tile. That's when I saw him:

Theo Moreau.

Sketchbook on his knee, hair messy, sleeves rolled up. A sharp jawline. Dark eyes that didn't just look at you-they read you.

He didn't smile.

"You're the girl Julian looked at," he said.

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"He doesn't look at people like that. Not unless he's already decided to ruin them."

I raised an eyebrow. "Do you always greet people with prophecies of doom?"

He returned to his sketchbook. "Only the ones I don't want to watch fall."

And just like that, I was pulled in.