Chapter Thirty #2
Heads turn. Eyes snap to me. A few at first. Then the whole damn room.
Some guy’s date leans in to whisper, but he doesn’t even blink, just keeps staring like I’m something he’s been hunting. A woman fidgets with her necklace, fingers shaking, not from the weight of the gems, but from whatever the hell they’re picking up from me.
Their expressions all seem to shift. Hunger. Greed. The kind of want that strips bones clean.
No in-between. No mercy.
My heart kicks into a sprint. Sweat beads at the back of my neck.
Some look like they could devour me. Others seem to think I’m not worth devouring.
Fuck this. All of it. I should’ve stayed in my room, claiming sickness, but Emmie was so sure. And I wanted to look good for him. I wanted to prove to him that none of this shit means anything to me and that I’m ready to admit it now.
But I don’t see Legend anywhere.
Just faces I don’t recognize staring at me like I’m an outcast, which I am.
I’d fought hard to keep my place in their uptight world.
I failed some classes, but passed others, I haven’t killed a single fucking person since I first got here.
Yet they still stand here, high on their horses, and look down at me as if I’m lesser.
And Legend wonders why I hate them all.
Where the fuck is he?
I cut through the crowd of Fae with their sharp grins, eyes tracking me like I’m the main course.
A cluster of warlocks nearly knocks me over, reeking of burned magic and whoever they took to bed last night.
And then there are the giftless, clinging to the walls like they’re afraid the floor might swallow them whole, all wide eyes and desperate energy, praying someone notices them.
I feel the weight of stares digging into my back. Hear the whisper of voices that drop to silence when I glance their way. Resent the way the air itself seems to hold its breath, waiting for me to crack.
A laugh bubbles up from somewhere to my left—high, fake, the kind that’s meant to be heard. I don’t look. My focus narrows, sharpens, slices through the noise like a honed blade.
He’s here. He has to be.
The bond wouldn’t let him stay away, not when I’m in a room full of predators who’d love nothing more than to see me bleed.
But the seconds stretch. The crowd doesn’t part. The bond stays quiet.
And the hollow space in my chest spreads wider with every breath I take.
My fingers tighten around the clutch until the leather creaks. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should’ve told Emmie to shove the dress and the hope up her—
There.
My breath catches.
Leaning against one of the bone pillars near the far wall, drink in hand, looking like he rolled out of bed and decided indifference was a better outfit than whatever the fuck everyone else is wearing.
Dark shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
No jacket. No tie. Just Legend being Legend and somehow making everyone else in the room look like they’re trying too hard.
Relief floods through me, hot and immediate.
Then dies just as fast.
Because he’s not looking at me.
He’s staring at his glass like it holds the answers to questions he hasn’t asked yet. Swirling the amber liquid. Bored. Distant. Like I’m not even here.
What the fuck?
I take a step forward. Then another. The crowd parts without me asking, bodies shifting away like I’m contagious. Fine. Let them. My eyes stay locked on him, waiting for that moment when he’ll sense me, when the bond will snap tight and pull his attention where it belongs.
Nothing.
He brings the glass to his lips, drinks, doesn’t even glance up.
My stomach twists.
This isn’t right. He always knows when I’m near. Always. It’s like his entire body is tuned to some frequency only I broadcast, and he can’t help but lock on.
But now?
Now he’s acting like I’m furniture.
I’m five feet away when I stop, suddenly unsure. The music swells around us, all wrong, too loud, filling the space between us with noise that sounds like mockery.
“Legend.”
My voice comes out steadier than I feel, but he doesn’t move. Just keeps staring at that glass like it’s the most interesting thing in the room.
“Legend.”
His jaw tightens. That’s it. That’s the only sign he heard me at all.
Then, slow as fucking death, he lifts his head.
And his eyes…
Cold. Flat. Like looking into the eyes of a stranger who’s already decided you’re not worth his time.
My heart drops into my stomach.
“You’re late.” His voice is ice. No heat. No edge. Just…nothing.
I blink, thrown. “I—yeah. Sorry. Emmie was helping me with—” I gesture vaguely at the dress, at myself, suddenly feeling like an idiot for caring. “I wanted to talk to you.”
He rolls his eyes.
Actually fucking rolls them. Like I just asked him the dumbest question in the world.
He takes another long pull from his glass.
A slap would’ve hurt less.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
The words rip out of me before I can stop them, sharp and raw. A few heads turn nearby, curious, hungry for drama. I don’t care. Let them watch.
Legend finally looks at me. Really looks. And there’s nothing in those eyes. No fire. No possession. No us.
Just ice.
“What do you want to say, Haide?”
The way he says my name—flat, clinical, like he’s reading it off a list—makes something crack in my chest.
I shake my head, trying to clear whatever weird fog has settled over this entire fucked-up moment. “I’m done fighting it.” The words tumble out fast, desperate. “You were right. About the bond. About us. I know you’re my mate. I believe you now. I—”
Movement to his left cuts me off.
Blond hair catches the light first. Then blue eyes, sharp and assessing, land on me with all the warmth of a blade.
Arabella.
She steps up beside Legend, close enough that her shoulder brushes his arm, and something dark and vicious claws up my throat.
Legend shifts. Not away from her. Toward her. His body angling, protective, like he’s shielding her from me.
“What the fuck is going on?”
My voice cracks on the last word. I hate it. Hate the way it sounds small and broken when I need it to be sharp.
Legend’s eyes harden. His free hand moves, settling on Arabella’s waist, and the world tilts sideways.
“You don’t belong to me.”
The words hit like a fist to the gut.
“What?”
“You heard me.” His voice drops, cold and final. “You’re nothing. A little exile who thought she could worm her way into my life.”
The room goes silent. Not just quiet. Silent. Like someone hit pause on the entire fucking universe.