“Aria.” Rowe catches me as I stumble again.
“Stand down, Rowe.” Alexander’s voice snaps.
“Like hell I will,” he grits out, supporting more of my weight as my knees begin to fail. “She’s been poisoned and needs real medical attention, not whatever cut-rate treatment these people—”
“She is not yours to protect,” Alexander says coldly. “She is Blackwood property, and someone is already en route to collect her.”
The words hit with the finality of a sentence passed. Through the haze of pain, a terrible clarity dawns.
“Raze . . .” I whisper, throat tightening. “Where is—”
“Dead.” Alexander doesn’t soften the blow. “The creature was thorough. They’re still attempting to identify which remains belonged to him.”
My legs give out and Rowe catches me instantly, easing me down as the world shatters again. Across the street, Luna finally looks at me, and for one brief moment, I see something flicker in hergaze—guilt, or maybe fear—but she turns away too quickly, and it lands like a knife in my chest.
“Whatwasthat thing?” My words slur together as the toxin works deeper.
The purr of a Blackwood engine answers me as a sleek car pulls up behind us, the insignia gleaming beneath the emergency lights.
“No.” I try to stand, but my body won’t obey. “I’m not—”
“Aria.” Rowe’s voice cracks as enforcers descend around us. They seize him, dragging him away from me as he fights with everything he has. “Father, please! She needs help! Not whatever Kian has planned!”
Alexander lifts a hand, and Rowe is slammed to his knees by force.
Kane steps out of the car, his face drawn and expression tight as he crouches beside me. “I’m sorry,” he says, lifting me carefully. “There’s nothing I can do. Orders are orders.”
“It’s fine,” I whisper, even though I know it’s not. Everything is wrong and nothing’s going back to the way it was.
“She’ll be safe with us,” Kane tells Rowe, but his voice betrays the lie. “Kian will make sure she receives proper care.”
“Not a chance in hell,” Rowe snarls, still fighting against the enforcers. “Kane, please—”
But the car door closes before the words can reach me. The last thing I see through the glass is Rowe on his knees, surrounded by his father’s men, watching helplessly as I’m taken away.
Two Hours Erlier
Isit cross-legged onthe floor of Alexander’s office, surrounded by takeout containers and the molten glow of Crown Heights at twilight. The city stretches beyond the glass, a constellation brought to heel, but I can’t look away from Alexander as he leans against his desk—tie loosened, sleeves rolled, forearms bare. He seems almost softer now, but no less dangerous.
“So there I was,” he continues, eyes flickering with rare mischief, “standing in the middle of the Academy courtyard, covered head to toe in failed transformation powder. My skin was quite literally glowing green.” He chuckles, the sound rich and intimate in the quiet space. “The professor stared at me and said, ‘Mr. Darkmoor, I believe the assignment was to transform a pen, not yourself.’”
I laugh, choking slightly on my noodles. The image of a younger Alexander glowing in front of his classmates is absurd and strangely intimate. “What did you do?”
“What else could I do?” He lifts a brow. “I bowed and said, ‘Professor, I simply wanted to ensure the experiment was thoroughlydocumented.’” His smile twists, slow and wicked. “I received full marks for creativity.”
The way he tells it, all bone-dry wit and lethal timing, pulls a reluctant warmth from somewhere deep in my chest. Moments this unguarded are rare, when he chooses to share pieces of himself that aren’t calculated. I want to trap them like gemstones, catalog them and keep them for myself.
“You have,” he gestures, then leans in, a fingertip brushing the corner of my mouth. “A bit of sauce.”
The touch lingers and his eyes darken. The pad of his thumb traces the curve of my lower lip, and my lungs forget their function. I lean into his hand before I can stop myself, drawn by something heavier than gravity, more exacting than logic.
“Luna,” he murmurs as he leans closer, the room folding around us, and I know—I know—this is it. Finally. Please—
The security alarms erupt.
A violent red pulse floods the office, and the moment evaporates. Alexander pulls back in an instant, the softness vanishing like it was never there. In its place is authority honed to the edge of a scalpel.
“Sir!” An enforcer barrels through the doors. “The specimen, it’s breached containment in the lower labs.”
