Laurel lies in my bed, asleep. Her skin’s too pale, her nose swollen, her throat marked with fingerprints like a collar someone dared to fasten around what’smine.
MyBonded.
Mine to provide for.
Mine tocommand.
Mine to protect.
I failed, and the rage that stirs is volcanic, begging to erupt. I pace the room like something wild, barely caged. My fists clench and unclench, my breath coming sharp and fast, hissing through my teeth.
“I’m going to fucking kill Sam,” I say, quietly. It’s not a threat. It’s a vow. “I always knew she was crazy, but this?” My lip curls. “This is a fucking declaration of war.”
Thomson leans against the wall, his arms crossed, annoyingly composed. “You can’t.”
“She put her hands on my Bonded.”
“The Sisters govern themselves. You know that. It’s the one domain where even you don’t hold power.”
“If it had been a Brother, I wouldn’t be talking to you. I’d be dragging his body into the cornfield—”
“But it wasn’t, and unless you get verbal consent, you can’t even set foot in Rosewood Hall. You know the rules.”
“I’ll wait,” I snap. “Sam has to come out eventually.”
“She’s already out. Probably hoping to bait you into a scene to make you look weak.”
“Shehasmade me look weak. What kind of man does it make me, if I can’t protect my own Bonded?” I growl in frustration.
Thomson exhales slowly. “Sam’s got you boxed in. If you strike back, you break Order protocol and prove Laurel’s a pressure point. You hand your enemies the blueprint to your downfall. But if you don’t? You lose face. You let the world see that someone touched your Bonded and lived to brag about it.”
“She wasn’t touched,” I growl. “She was strangled. That’s not just a message, a temper tantrum. It’s a claim. An assault not just on Laurel, but onmypower.” I rake my fingers through my hair, the movement jagged. “I don’t care how many centuries these rules have stood, if they think I’ll let this slide, they’re all fucking delusional.”
I stop pacing and stare down at Laurel. Her lashes tremble against her cheek. I can’t stop looking at the outline of Sam’s fucking fingers on her throat.
I want blood. I want teeth. I want Sam on her knees, choking on the apology I won’t accept.
“You’re thinking with your pride,” Thomson says. “You humiliated Sam. Years of her chasing you, building her whole identity around the idea that you’d choose her to bond.Everyonethought it would be her. Then you picked a nobody. A stranger. Publicly. You might as well have set her on fire.” He shakes his head. “Now she wants blood, but she’s too smart to go after you directly.”
“I’ll make her wish she had,” I say coldly.
I sit beside Laurel, careful not to jostle the bed. The fury doesn’t ebb. It just settles. Sharpening. Focusing. I know this isn’t about Laurel. It’s not even really about Sam. It’s about power. About proving I can be disobeyed. It’s a test, and all of them are watching, waiting to see if I’ll fail, but they’ve forgotten something.
Everything here ismine.
Myname on this house.
Myname on this town.
I’mthe one in charge here.
Thomson shakes his head. “We should’ve seen this coming.”
“Jesus.” I drag my hands through my hair. “Stop being so fucking logical. I hate it.”
“You hate it because it’s the truth.”
He’s right. My blood’s still boiling, but beneath the anger, something colder coils tight in my chest. Guilt, maybe. Or something worse.
