His grip tightens, cutting off my words before I can argue.
I slap his arm but he doesn’t relent.
“Agreed?” He pushes, brows raised.
“Fine,” I snap, and when he finally lets go, I shrug. “But only because I’m needy and I don’t see any better options for good dick.”
I shove past him, yanking my pants back up with shaking hands. My legs feel like they’re made of water, but I force them to move, one foot in front of the other, refusing to look back.
“Hey, monster.”
I freeze, jaw clenching.
“You know you can come to me anytime youneed? I will never deny you.”
I flip him off without turning around, the gesture sharp and definitive. His laugh follows me through the trees, low and satisfied, like he just won something I didn’t know we were competing for.
Asshole.
There’s no way I killed those people.
The path back to campus blurs as I move on autopilot, my mind still spinning from everything—the blood, the bodies, the way Legend’s tongue felt against my clit. I shake my head, trying to clear it, but the images stick like tar.
By the time I reach my dorm, the sun’s starting to dip, casting long shadows across the stone walls. I lock the door behind me, and lean against it, finally letting myself breathe.
My reflection catches in the small mirror by the basin. Blood still streaks my cheek where Legend smeared it, rust-brown now and dried. I look like I’ve been through a war.
Maybe I have.
I strip off my clothes, toss them in a heap, and turn on the water. It runs cold at first, then scalding, and I don’t care. I scrub until my skin’s raw, until every trace of blood and dirt and him are gone.
Chapter Sixteen
Haide
It’s just after sunrise when the world splits apart in a surge of black smoke and crackling power, and when I blink next, I’m standing in the War Room. Torches flare along the walls, casting shadows that lick and twist across the floor. With the absence of the long table, it’s just high wing-backed chairs that look more like thrones than seats.
Every single one is occupied.
Creed sits at the head, arms crossed, jaw tight. Knight lounges to his right, one leg thrown over the armrest, eyes cold and assessing. Sinner sprawls across from him, grinning like he knows something the rest of us don’t. London perches beside Knight, spine straight, fingers drumming against the table in a rhythm that sets my teeth on edge.
And Legend. Legend stands behind me, close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off him in waves.
I glance around, cataloging exits, counting faces, assessing threats. Standard protocol. But there’s no empty chair. No spot for me.
Good.
I take a step toward the edge of the dais, ready to disappear into the shadows where I belong, when a hand clamps around the back of my neck.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Legend’s voice is a low rumble against my ear, dangerous and possessive. His fingers tighten, not enough to hurt but enough to hold, and before I can spit out a retort, he’s yanking me backward.
I stumble, off-balance, and then I’m falling—straight into his lap.
“What the hell—”
“Sit.” His arm locks around my waist, pinning me against him. His thighs are solid beneath me, heat seeping through the thin fabric of my uniform. I try to twist free, but his grip doesn’t budge.
