A muscle ticks in his jaw. His thumb drifts along the edge of one line, slow and precise. The contact sends another flicker through me, heat blooming low in my stomach, uninvited.
His gaze doesn’t waver. “The Wraith hounds came for you. No one else.”
“I didn’t call them,” I say, tighter this time. “I didn’t even know what they were.”
The pressure of his thumb shifts. Not painful, just enough to remind me he’s in complete control of this moment.
His thumb brushes one glowing line again, and it takes everything in me not to jerk my hand back. Not because it hurts. Because it doesn’t. I like it.
Because it feels like a warning or a promise. Or both.
“You felt them coming,” Kael says. Not a question.
I hesitate, jaw tight. He’s not wrong. I did. I just didn’t understand what it meant—only that it felt like the universe exhaling straight into my chest.
“I felt... something,” I admit. “It didn’t exactly come with a label. And before you saved me in my shitty little apartment, none of this existed outside of fairytales and crappy CGI movies.”
He’s still watching me, but something shifts slightly. The look in his eyes sharpens, focused like a blade sliding home.
“You were never supposed to be ignorant,” he says quietly. “Someone kept you in the dark. Why would they do that?”
My pulse stutters. I don’t think he’s asking me that question.
“I didn’t ask for this. Any of this. The school. The magic. Shadow monsters—if that’s what they even are.”
Kael releases me without warning. The loss of contact leaves my skin burning, empty. My arm drops to my side, fingers curling instinctively. He turns away, crossing to the table. The slow, deliberate way he picks up a narrow rune blade feels more thoughtful than threatening, but no less unsettling.
The metal catches the light as he turns it once in his hand.
“The Bloods won’t ignore this,” he says. “Neither will the Council.”
That pulls me up short. “Why?” I ask. “Whythem? What makes the Bloods have any part of any of this?”
I can understand a Council…every school has something like that, right? A magical school wouldn’t be any different. But other students? It makes no sense.
He doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t raise his voice.
“Because they think power belongs to them. You just single-handedly proved it doesn’t.”
The words hang in the air like smoke.
I take a shaky step closer. “You keep saying things like that. Dropping hints. Acting like youknowwhat I am but won’t say it.”
His fingers tighten around the blade. Not threatening—restraining.
“I think I deserve an answer,” I say, louder now. “WhatamI?”
Kael finally turns, gaze cool and unreadable. He says nothing for a beat too long.
The blade clicks softly against the table as he sets it down, precise as everything else in this room. Then he faces me again.His gaze holds mine for a long beat. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.
Finally, he speaks, voice low, even, cutting straight through the weight in my chest. “Do you want to survive here, Lindsay Blake?”
There’s no threat in the words. No kindness either. Just a simple, brutal question.
I swallow, my throat tight. “Yes.”
The corner of his mouth lifts—too faint to be a smile. More a knowing flicker.
