11. Casandra
My lungs burn, not from the exertion—vampire stamina ensures I don’t get winded easily—but from the sheer, suffocating pressure of panic.
The West Wing is a fortress of privilege, a five-story monolith of stone and glass reserved for the absolute elite of Blackmere.
It’s the kind of place where silence is a luxury bought with tuition fees that could fund a small country.
But as I burst through the doors of the ground floor, that silence is being shredded.
I see him immediately. Magnus.
He looks utterly feral. The composed, duty-bound Beta I saw earlier is gone, replaced by a man coming apart at the seams.
His blazer is discarded, his dress shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, and his skin is flushed with the heat of a transformation held back by sheer willpower.
He’s pacing the foyer like a caged animal, his nostrils flaring as he catches the faint, lingering trail of Ilinca’s scent.
He’s not alone.
“Control yourself, Magnus!” Nikolai is there, his massive frame anchored like a mountain in the center of the lobby. He has a handful of Magnus’s shirt gathered in his fist, physically pinning the Beta against one of the structural pillars. “You cannot go charging through the halls like a rogue!”
“She’s here, Nikolai!” Magnus’s voice is a raw, jagged thing.
I freeze by the elevators, my hand instinctively reaching for the keys in my pocket.
My movement catches Magnus’s eye. His head snaps in my direction with predatory speed.
His pupils are so dilated his eyes look like twin pits of obsidian.
He wrenches himself out of Nikolai’s grip and stalks toward me.
He doesn’t attack though. He drops to his knees a foot away from me.
“Please,” he rasps, the word a broken plea. “You know her. You were with her. I just... I need to see her. I need to know why she’s crying. I can feel her pain as if it were my own, Casandra.”
Behind him, Nikolai straightens, his stormy eyes narrowing as he watches his Beta grovel at my feet. The golden thread in my chest pulls tight, a painful reminder of the man standing five feet away who called me a monster, but I force my focus onto Magnus.
I close my eyes for a heartbeat, praying I’m not making a mistake.
“Magnus,” I say, my voice low and authoritative. “If you go up those stairs now, if you pound on that door, you will lose her forever. Right now, she is terrified.”
“I would never hurt her,” he whispers.
“She doesn’t know that,” I counter. I lean down, placing a hand on his trembling shoulder. “I will talk to her. I will set up a meeting. But it happens on her timeline, in a place where she feels safe. Do you understand? If you follow me, the deal is off.”
Magnus stares at me, his chest heaving. Slowly, the frantic light in his eyes begins to dim. He’s an Alpha’s right hand; he knows how to recognize a life-line when it’s thrown.
“Okay,” Magnus nods once, a jerky, mechanical movement.
He stands up, wipes a hand across his face, and turns to Nikolai.
The Prince is watching me with a look I can’t quite decipher—a mix of suspicion and a strange, grudging respect.
Without a word, Magnus walks toward the exit, his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world has settled on them.
I watch him go, my heart finally beginning to slow. I turn toward the elevator, ready to bolt upstairs and lock the door, but a hand catches the door before it can slide shut.
Nikolai hasn’t left.
He’s inside the elevator car with me, the space suddenly feeling five sizes too small. He doesn’t say anything as the lift begins its smooth, silent ascent. He just stares at me, his jaw tight.
“What are you doing here, Casandra?” he asks, his voice vibrating in the small space.
“I’m keeping your Beta from having a nervous breakdown in the lobby,” I say, staring straight ahead at the polished metal doors. “You’re welcome.”
“No,” he says, stepping closer. The scent of Swedish cinnamon buns floods my senses, making my skin hum with a traitorous, electric heat. “Why are you still in this building?”
I turn my head, meeting his gaze with a flat, unimpressed stare. I let out a huff and roll my eyes. “I live here, Nikolai.”
In a split second, the world tilts.
His hand slams against the wall next to my head, the sound of palm hitting metal echoing like a gunshot.
Before I can even draw a breath to protest, his other hand is at my waist, fingers digging into my t-shirt as he hauls me flush against him.
He pins me to the back of the elevator, his massive frame caging me in.
I gasp, my hands coming up to rest against his chest. I should push him. I should snarl and show him the fangs that are currently aching to drop. But where his skin meets mine, a thousand tiny sparks of gold fire ignite under my skin. It’s an intoxicating, dizzying rush that mocks my anger.
Nikolai doesn’t seem to notice my inner turmoil. He burrows his nose into the crook of my neck, taking a deep, jagged inhale that hitches in his throat.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he hisses against my skin, his breath ghosting over my pulse point.
The sheer audacity of the man is staggering. He rejects me in public, treats me like a plague-bearer, and now he’s offended by a facial expression?
“Awh, the Prince is sensitive about his ego. How tragic,” I spit, though my voice lacks its usual bite because my body is busy melting into his warmth.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his usually blue eyes now molten gold, burning with a frantic curiosity. “How is it that you live in the West Wing?”
His grip on my waist tightens, pulling me so close I can feel the frantic thud of his heart against my own ribs. “Who are you, Casandra?”
He’s searching my face, his wolf practically howling for answers, but all I feel is a fresh wave of cold, hard fury. He wants to know who I am now? Now that he’s realized I might have status?
“None of your fucking business,” I snarl.
I plant both palms against his shoulders and shove. I use every ounce of the strength that has been waking up inside me since I arrived at this school. He isn’t expecting it; he stumbles back, his eyes wide as I break his hold.
The elevator dings. The doors slide open on the third floor floor. Aiden stands there, ready to take the elevator, but stops when he sees me and Nikolai.
“Wait—” Nikolai starts, reaching out for me.
I step out into the hallway, pushing past Aiden without looking back, taking the stairs for the remaining two floors.
Once I’m on the fifth floor, I unlock the door of the apartment. I slip inside and slam it shut, leaning my back against the wood as the multiple deadbolts click into place.
“Auntie Cassie?”
I look up. Darius is standing in the hallway, holding a wooden wolf toy Elena must have found for him. His big, dark eyes are curious.
“Is the grumpy wolf gone?”
I let out a long, shaky breath and push off the door, kneeling to gather him into my arms. “For now, little man,” I whisper. “For now.”