“I’m sorry we kept it from you. We shouldn’t have. Saints, you had just escaped him when he texted about—” He stops, and I look up sharply.
“About what, Ian?”
“About finding my dorm room empty on the Feast of Saint Jasper,” Luca says quietly as he comes down the stairs into the kitchen.
I can’t help the strangled sob that escapes me.
Ian passes me off into Luca’s arms, and I cling to my mate like he’s my salvation in this dangerous storm. Like I could lose him at any moment. Saints, I nearly did.
“We’re all right here with you, princess. Your whole pack. We’re all safe,” Luca murmurs, stroking my hair away from my teary cheeks.
My outrage spikes, souring my scent, and I turn on Cassian. “Youaremy pack. My mate. Don’t you dare keep something like this from me again. You’re a better alpha than that.”
He hangs his head in contrition and nods. “I’m sorry, love.”
I turn on Ian. “And you. He’s coming for you. He’s vowed to ruin you, Ian.”
“We’ll all take more precautions,” he promises.
“Jaime Brentwood told me Rad was cracking,” I tell my pack. “And that Rad would be more dangerous than ever. I believe him. Saints, Rad’s life is being utterly and publicly destroyed. It’s only a matter of time before he lashes out.”
“We’ll be careful, Juniper. I swear it,” Ian says, squeezing both of my hands in his. “We’ll prepare and we’ll be vigilant.”
I want to believe him, but how can one prepare for something they can’t predict? For the actions of a violent alpha, backed into a corner with nothing left to lose?
I spend hours alone in my nest that night, desperately trying to force a premonition, and though it makes my head ache, it’s not the searing pain that accompanies my visions. I strain my eyes until I’m bleary, but my vision never blurs.
By the time I invite my men up to my nest to sleep, I’m weary and worried. I don’t know if it’s my affinity, but the deepest sinking feeling of dread has settled in my gut, and uneasy anticipation buzzes through me.
Whatever is going to happen, it’s going to happen soon.
* * *
I’manxious the next morning, and short with my mates as I get ready and head off to my classes. Marcus apologizes for keeping the texts from me as he drives us to campus, but the fight I had with my pack is overshadowed by the sharp, jittery sense of suspense that pinches my shoulders together and makes cold sweat bead at the nape of my neck.
I jump at every shout of students on the quad and startle when someone cuts too close to me as they dash to class, so alert that my senses and affinity are overwhelmed by everything around me.
But the routine of Ian’s Intermediate Casting class helps me settle, and Alyssa’s chatter as we work through our spellwork eases some of the strain that has me tied up in knots.
I’m trying the spell we’re learning for the second time when my vision goes fuzzy and pain spears through my head. I don’t see Rad, and can’t even tell where I am, but I can practically feel the crumbly texture of Ian’s favorite chalk under my fingertips as I write sigil after sigil on a familiar blackboard. Only, I’m not in the cozy comfort of Ian’s office in the basement of Saint Guinnette’s library.
Ian’s low voice stirs me from the vision. “What is it? You look peaked.”
I snap my attention up to him, and I shake my head. “I-I’m not sure. But I’m fine.”
A knock sounds at the classroom door, and I quickly grab his hand to hold him back, but the ring on his finger and the charm that sits below the hollow of my throat are warm to the touch. Unless he’s found a way to thwart a spell he doesn’t even know exists, Rad is nowhere close.
I reluctantly drop his hand, but I hold my breath as he opens the door to a freshman scholarship student with a note in his hand. Not Rad. Not Blair.
He passes the note to Ian and Ian reads it over before looking up and locking eyes with me, his expression fraught.
“Miss Rose,” he says tightly. “We’ve been summoned to the headmaster’s office.”
My mind reels, each reason the headmaster could want to see us worse than the last.
Ian dismisses our class early, and I pack my book and notebook away with shaking hands. Marcus shoulders my bag, despite my weak protest, and we meet the freshman in the hallway, Ian following us once he’s gathered up his things.
We don’t talk and we don’t touch, aware that there are too many people around who could see us, who could catch a quick, comforting touch or a lingering look between us.
