Kalila Miracle Hart

Evara practically shoved me out of the room, insisting I should take a walk to calm down. Calm down? How the hell am I supposed to calm down when I just realized who Carcel Dawson really is?

My feet are moving, but I have no clue where I'm headed. Evara's dealing with the system crash, but I'm supposed to calm down. Right. Easier said than done.

Damn it...

I keep staring at my phone, reading that cursed text over and over, wishing I could erase the part where I said, 'fuck him' If only I could take it back...but I can't. My fingers betrayed me, hitting send before I can even double-checked the number. What an idiot.

"Carcel Dawson, please don't kill me," I mutter to the air, my voice barely trembling in desperation hoping it would reach him out of nowhere.

"Please, Carcel. Just ignore it," I mutter again, as if begging might somehow reverse the damage.

But Evara's words echo in my mind like a warning bell, "He's totally going to be piss." And now the 'what ifs' are flooding in, each one worse than the last.

I know rich people can do some crazy things. One experience I would never forget was Evara's kidnapping incident and it was a hella traumatic experience.

What if Carcel decides to go full psycho on me? A sniper, a hitman—who knows?

"Please, Carcel," I plead again, feeling the panic claw at my sanity. My hands tangle in my hair, yanking it hoping it would erase the fear getting shot any minute now.

"Please, God, please touch Carcel's heart." I paused, biting my lip before muttering under my breath, "Or maybe just take him." I was clasping my hands together and gave a moment of silence to get my prayers through.

"Now, that's out of line."

A voice sliced through the stillness, sharp and unexpected. My heart leaped into my throat, and I whirled around to find a tall figure leaning casually against one of the pillars. My breath caught in my chest. Is that him? the man I've been praying about? Carcel Dawson?

Oh, for heaven's sake... What did I do to deserve this kind of torture? My mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation, but all I could think was, why am I the one feeling scared when he's the one who caused all the problems?

Get a grip, Kalila. Take a deep breath. Don't let him rattle you.

With every ounce of courage I could muster, I forced myself to meet his gaze. His hazel green eyes bore into mine, cold and unyielding, and I felt a shiver crawl down my spine. 

No, I can't do this. 

My chest tightened, and I realize that pretty boys—especially ones like him—terrified me more than I ever thought possible. My mind scrambled, trying to find the right words, but I didn't even know where to begin.

I studied his features in a desperate attempt to stall—His buzz cut hair, thick define eyebrows, deep set hazel green eyes, straight nose, full lips, define jawline, fair—something's not right here. This feel like deja vu. I think I met him somewhere.  But where?

"Why are you calling me?" His voice broke through my thoughts, sharp and demanding, but also eerily familiar. Where did I meet him before?

Think, Kalila, think! My mind raced, trying to connect the dots.

"Hey!" I snapped back to him again,  as I locked eyes with him. His piercing gaze seemed to see right through me, But I was still trying to figure out where I saw him.

"Are you de—"

"The pudding guy!" It hit me all at once. The grocery store. He was the one who'd bought that ridiculous amount of pudding.

"What?" He frowned, confusion flickering across his cold features.

"We've met before, haven't we?" I asked, taking a step closer to him. The realization was like a lifeline, something to cling to in this overwhelming moment. He looked startled, like I'd thrown him off balance, and he took a step back, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "At the grocery store?" I pressed.

"Yes, yes... stop walking towards me." His voice wavered ever so slightly, a crack in his icy demeanor. I halted in my tracks, unsure whether to feel victorious or more unnerved by the situation.

"We've actually met more often than you think," he said casually, his voice carrying a calm confidence. I raised an eyebrow, genuinely puzzled.

"Really?" I couldn't recall, but then again, with everything happening in my life, it was easy for things to slip through the cracks.

"The party, the mall..." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And somehow, you're always in some kind of trouble." He crossed his arms, a small smirk playing on his lips. I let out a nervous chuckle, instantly recalling the party I wasn't supposed to be at.

"Now, tell me—why are you calling me?" His gaze sharpened, and I could feel the weight of his question.

"Over and over again, while I was trying to sleep?" He continued as he stepped toward me, closing the distance, and I now its my turn to instinctively step back.

"I, uh..." I stammered, my mind scrambling for an excuse, anything that wouldn't get me into even more trouble. "It was nothing, really," I said, the nervousness clear in my voice.

"Really?" His eyebrow arched, skepticism etched into his features.

"Really..." I repeated, but his expression told me he wasn't buying it. He stared at me, waiting, impatiently.

"Fine!" I blurted out, squeezing my eyes shut as if that would make the situation less terrifying. "I'm sorry for sending you the wrong text!" The words tumbled out of my mouth in a rush, and before he could respond, I turned on my heel and bolted.

By the time I reached the quad, my heart was pounding, and I was gasping for breath. I hurried over to our unfinished booth, desperate for some semblance of normalcy.

"What happened to you?" Summer asked, her eyes wide with concern as I collapsed onto a nearby chair, gulping down water like it was the last drop on earth.

"I was just chased by a psychopath," I managed between breaths, my pulse still racing. "Anyway, is there anything I can do here? Evara kicked me out of the base—they're still fixing the app."

"Kalila, you need to relax," she said calmly, adjusting the banner we were supposed to set up. The plan was to get our booth done today, but with the app crashing, everything was spiraling out of control, and I was on the brink of a meltdown. Summer and Akira had decided to start setting up without me.

"I'm fine," I insisted, standing up to help her, though my hands were still shaking from the encounter.

"You didn't even get the chance to go home and change," she pointed out, glancing at my clothes.

"Do you think I smell?" I asked, sniffing myself, but before she could reply, her expression shifted. Summer's eyes went wide, her face pale as she pointed behind me.

"Summer?" I turned to see what had her so stunned, and my breath caught in my throat. There, striding toward our booth with an entourage trailing behind him, was Carcel Dawson.

He looked like he owned the place, and in that moment, the world seemed to shrink around me. The air felt heavy, suffocating, as if every pair of eyes in the quad was suddenly on us. And there he was, the guy I'd just run away from, marching straight toward me with a purpose that sent a fresh wave of panic through my veins.

What the fuck is going on?

Carcel Dawson stood right in front of our booth, hands casually tucked in his pockets, that confident smirk playing on his lips. I felt like a bug under a boot, ready to be crushed by the two hundred pounds of muscle towering over me.

He walked toward me with an air of control, crouching down until we were at eye level. Leaning in, he whispered in my ear, "You don't run when I'm talking, Kalila." The words were laced with a chilling threat, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. My body jolted, not from excitement but from the pure, icy fear coursing through me.

The banner slipped from my trembling hands, and I crouched down, desperately trying to buy myself time as I fumbled to pick it up, my heart pounding in my chest.

Carcel straightened up and nonchalantly walked into the booth, settling into one of the plastic chairs. Summer, frozen in shock, just stood there, her eyes wide.

Carcel turned his attention to the crowd gathering outside the booth—mostly girls, their eyes shining with adoration, as if this were some kind of fan meet. They squealed and giggled, their phones snapping pictures of him, but none of them dared to get too close. They knew better than to piss him off.

Despite the growing crowd, no one dared stampede toward him. They just stood there, taking pictures, their whispers filling the air like the buzz of a hive.

The crowd was a strange mix—elite and scholars, it didn't even bother them to be breathing in one space, they're just united by their desire to catch a glimpse of Carcel Dawson.

I think I found the missing link to this madness.

I found myself pushed to the back of the crowd, watching the scene unfold, trying to make sense of it all. The sheer magnetism of his presence was undeniable.

Even the guys who initially dared to murmur and laugh quickly fell silent when Carcel shot them a single, sharp glance. It was clear—this man commanded respect with nothing more than a look.

Carcel didn't need to flaunt his wealth or status; his very existence seemed to scream power and privilege. It was as if he was born to rule, destined for fame and influence from the moment he stepped into this world.

As I scanned the crowd, my gaze landed on Ciel, standing a little ways back with a familiar girl beside her. Her face was twisted in a scowl, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She stared at Carcel with an expression that could kill. After a long, tense moment, she turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving me to wonder what her deal was?

"What the hell is going on?" Summer finally found me, her voice filled with confusion and I could only shake my head in response, my mind is also spinning with the same question.

I don't know what's running in that guy's head. Did that one wrong text really get under his skin so much that he decided to sabotage our project just to prove a point? The thought of it made my stomach churn with unease.

"I think we can't finish the booth now," I murmured, clutching the banner tightly against my chest. 

"What do we do?" Summer asked, her voice laced with worry. I stood there, trying to think of a solution, but my mind was a jumbled mess. 

The last thing I wanted was to go anywhere near Carcel. Something about it made me feel like if I took even one step closer, the sea of girls around him would turn on me like a pack of wolves.

"Let's call Evara," I suggested, pulling out my phone with shaky hands. I dialed her number, praying she could help us figure something out. After a few rings, she picked up.

"Miracle? Are you okay now?" Her voice sounded stressed, and my heart sank with guilt. Evara was already juggling so many problems for us, and here I was, potentially adding more to her plate.

"Yeah, I'm great," I replied, forcing as much cheerfulness into my voice as I could muster. The last thing I wanted was to worry her any more than she already was. "How's the app going?" I asked, though the anxiety in my chest tightened as I waited for her answer.

"It's still a mess, but don't worry—we're working on some upgrades," she said, and my guilt deepened. I hated having to tell her about the situation with Carcel, but I knew I had no choice. We needed to find a way to make this work without Evara.

"Oh that's good, anyway I was just checking on you" I pause making sure I don't crack my voice. "I have to go we still need to set up the booth."

"Alright, I'll be there once everything is settled," she replied, and with that, we both hung up.

I stood there for a moment, phone still in hand. My mind raced as I tried to figure out our next move.

The first thing we need to do is calm down this crowd, then get Carcel out of here. The first part is manageable, but the second...well, that's going to be a challenge. I'll have to talk to him first, and just the thought makes my heart race with anxiety. I don't think his the type of guy to listen to a lowly commoner like me.

And right on cue, Akira returned from shopping for supplies, her eyes widened, and she dropped the bags at her feet. It was clear she hadn't expected to walk into this mess.

"Okay, let's calm down," I said, trying to steady my own nerves as much as theirs. "I've got a plan," I continued, hoping that confidence would help, even though I wasn't entirely sure myself.

"We need to get that guy"—I pointed at Carcel, who was still lounging in the booth—"and this crowd out of here so we can finish setting up." I glanced at Summer and Akira, who were looking at me expectantly. "But first we need help to get Carcel out, So I need you to find someone for me. It's a long shot, but it might work."

"Who?" Summer asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"I don't know much about him, just that he's not a scholar and his name is...Crue? Or maybe True? Something like that." My voice was shaky, and I could feel the panic creeping in.

"Kalila, that's impossible," Summer said, shaking her head. "It'll take us forever to find him with just that."

"No, we'll try," Akira chimed in, determined. "Describe him more. Anything you remember."

I wracked my brain, trying to recall the man from the mall—the one who seemed to have the ability to make Carcel listen. 

"He was tall, broad-shouldered, with medium-dark hair, and dark eyes." I was trying to find something more distinct about him "Oh! He has two very noticeable moles here" I said, pointing under my right eye to indicate their placement. One's near the outer corner, and the other's on his cheekbone.

"Got it," Akira said, mentally noting every detail. "Can you guess what his hobby might be?"

I blinked at her, thrown off by the question. "His hobby? I don't know...selling drugs, maybe?" Summer groaned, burying her face in her hands.

"No, Kalila!" Akira exclaimed, exasperated. "Sports! What kind of sports do you think he might play?"

"Basketball? Football? Ping pong? I don't know!" I guessed, feeling increasingly out of my depth. Summer laughed at the absurdity of it all.

"Okay, let's go with basketball and football," Akira decided. They both hurried off to search for Crue—or True—whoever he was. I just hoped he was strong enough, both physically and mentally, drag Carcel out of our booth.

As Akira and Summer walked away, I turned to face the crowd again, trying to psych myself up for what I had to do. I tilted my head from side to side, tying my hair into a ponytail, hoping it would help me feel more in control

I needed every ounce of confidence for this to work. I couldn't just stand by and let this project—and my friends—fall apart because of Carcel.

I pushed my way through the crowd, my heart pounding with every step. When I finally reached the table where Carcel sat, he put his phone down and watched me approach, arms crossed, and still has a smug expression plastered on his face.

I stand in front of him and took a deep breath in and out, making sure to calm my nerve

"I don't know what you're doing," I pause to make sure I locked eyes with him, even though my entire body was trembling. He probably noticed, too. "But since you're here, you don't mind pleasing the crowd, right?"

He glared at me, his eyes dark and challenging, as if daring me to continue. I knew my name had been added to his list of targets the moment I sent that misrouted text, but if I was already in his sights, I might as well use this opportunity to boost our project, even if it meant pissing him more.

"Just pick a few girls," I said, forcing the words out as I tried to keep my voice steady. "Like window shopping, wouldn't that be fun?"

But instead of the ego-stroking reaction I expected, his expression darkened with annoyance—no, it was something beyond annoyance. It was pure, cold fury.

"I'm not here to play around, Kalila," he said, his voice low and menacing, making me gulp down whatever courage I had left. "I'm here because you ran, and I don't like being cut off like that"

He began to stand, towering over me, using his height to intimidate me further. He knew damn well how terrified I was of him. Desperately, I placed both of my trembling hands on his shoulders and shoved him back into his seat with every ounce of strength I could muster.

"Alright, tell me what you want. Just stop causing us trouble," I said, my voice wavering despite my attempt to sound firm.

"You."

"What?!" The word burst out of me, and despite my instinct to flee from the glares burning into my back from the crowd, I couldn't help but shout at the ridiculousness of his demand.

He kicked the chair in front of him aside. "I want you to sit down and finish the conversation we had back there."

That's it? Really? He could've done so much worse, but that's all he wanted?

Before I could even process what he was asking, the crowd behind me erupted.

"What are you doing!"

"Bitch, get out!"

The angry shouts from the mob behind me made me glance back at them, then back to Carcel. I was torn. I didn't know what to do.

"Alright, I'll talk, but help me out first," I pleaded, pointing to the increasingly hostile crowd.

"No."

"What?!" My irritation flared, and I shot back at him, "Listen, Carcel, I'll do whatever you ask, just please help me get this crowd out of here." I was desperate now, the noise from the crowd growing louder and angrier every passing second.

"Please, Carcel, please," I begged, feeling my dignity crumble with each word. And that jerk just smirked, enjoying every second of my misery.

"Look at you, always begging for me," he taunted, his voice dripping with condescension. The urge to strangle him surged within me—I was going to end up in jail for murder at this rate. But then, to my surprise, he relented.

Without wasting a second, I sprang into action before Carcel could change his mind.

"Alright, everybody!" I tried to yell, but my voice was drowned out by the shouts and curses of the crowd. Panic surged through me, but I spotted a stack of notebooks on the table.

Grabbing the entire pile, I slammed them down hard, the sound echoing across the quad like a gunshot. Carcel flinched in surprise, and the crowd fell silent, their attention snapping to me. Now that I had them where I wanted, I cleared my throat, trying to steady my nerves.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting!" I called out, forcing a smile onto my face. "I'm one of the founders of Art Connections, Kalila Miracle, and I'm here to announce a very special gift of gratitude to all of you." I shouted, making sure even those in the back could hear me.

The crowd leaned in, their anticipation palpable. I took a deep breath, preparing for the next part.

"One of our beloved artists, Mr. Carcel Dawson, will be giving live connects!" I announced, and the crowd erupted into wild cheers.

I slammed the notebooks down again to regain control. "Ladies, please form a single, straight line," I commanded, watching as they quickly obeyed. "If Mr. Carcel swipes right on you, that means he wants to connect. You'll get a chance to take a picture and get a signature. If you manage to get his contact, well, that's up to you. If he swipes left, your request has been declined. You'll get a handshake, but please leave immediately after—you'll be holding up the line!" I emphasized the last part, hoping they'd take it seriously.

"Are you ladies ready?" I asked the crowd, and a deafening roar of excitement answered me.

I turned to Carcel, a triumphant smirk on my face. "Are you ready, Mr. Carcel?"