Chapter 37 #2
“Pharmaceutical advances,” my father says, rolling a piece of chalk between his fingers, “have allowed healers to be more effective in their work. With the use of magical medicinals, mage healers and doctors alike can treat contagions with ease.”
I sit rigid in my seat, Alyssa at one side and Ellie at my other.
The class feels empty without Bitsy, though my father’s course has drawn many interested students.
I see it in Ellie’s despondent expression.
She toys with the edge of a sheet of paper in her notebook, her pen set aside.
Alyssa and I have been extra vigilant about capturing notes in this class so we can help Ellie when midterms come around, if she’s even still here by then.
She talks about dropping out daily, saying she has no reason to be here anymore.
Only Simon and her mother have managed to convince her to stay.
I return my attention to the lecture, but I know I’m going to have to rely on Alyssa’s notes for this one. I’m too keyed up, too worried about what my father will do to me, to focus. When practicum comes around, I throw up my mental shields, but waver when I catch a thought from my father.
Saints above, his success rate is up to seventy-five percent.
He must know I’ve heard him with my affinity when I let out a soft gasp. He takes that opportunity for what it is: a chance to force thoughts into my mind. I drag my shields back up, but not before he gets one image into my head, the alpha with fire abilities burning a stack of omega corpses.
Bile rises in my throat, and I quickly put my hand up. “May I be excused?”
My father nods and waves a hand, knowing what he’s done to me.
I sprint from the room, making my way to the ladies’ room, my alphas hot on my tail.
I throw myself into a stall and lose my lunch, coughing and retching.
I gag and throw up bile, whimpering. As if my vision yesterday wasn’t horrific enough, I’ve now seen exactly what my father’s success rate means: a pile of omega corpses, about to be torched to ash.
Has it already happened or was he imagining what’s to come?
Ian rubs my back in slow circles, holding my hair back with his other hand. When I finally look up from the toilet, Marcus is ready with a wet paper towel and gently dabs at my heated skin before cleaning my mouth.
Ian helps me to my feet and over to the sinks where I swish water in my mouth.
“You’re not going back to class,” Cassian tells me from where he’s standing, leaning against the bank of sinks.
“I’m fine now,” I protest, though my voice is weak.
“He caught me off guard when I was able to glean his success rate from him. Seventy-five percent. His success rate is up that high. And he’s gone through so many test subjects to get there.
He attacked me with an image of omega corpses about to be burned.
It was… horrifying, but I was able to get something from him first.”
“I hate this,” Ian says, rubbing a hand down his face. “I hate what this man does to you. Your father’s a monster, Juniper.”
He is.
“And he wins if I don’t go back to class. He wants to see me weak. He takes pleasure in it. I have to go back to class. I’ll be more careful now. I’ll let Alyssa take down the diagrams from today’s work.”
“If that bastard says anything…” Marcus starts, cracking his knuckles.
“You can’t beat my father to piss on school grounds, Marcus,” I admonish.
“We can follow him if that’s your concern,” Cassian says lightly. “Wait until he’s off campus and then strike.”
“We’re not beating up my father,” I mutter.
“Well-timed hex?” Ian suggests.
I roll my eyes. “No hexes. He’s still a valuable source of information. If his success rate is that high, he has to know about the Prince’s timeline. After what I saw yesterday, any small scrap of information is important.”
“Fine,” Ian sighs.
My alphas grumble but eventually escort me back to class, minutes before the bell rings.
I gather my things, readying to leave when my arms turn to lead.
I’m frozen in place, like I’m locked in my body.
Anchored to my chair. I want to cry out to my alphas that I’m about to have another vision, but this isn’t a vision at all.
I’ve never been paralyzed by a vision before.
I can’t even dart my eyes around the room, but I know no one hexed me.
Saints above, what’s happening to me? Panic rises in me, making my heart flutter in my chest, my pulse race in my ears.
My fingers tap at the surface of my desk without me doing anything at all. It’s like I’m being controlled.
My mates stand with protective growls.
My father smiles and waits until the last student has left the room.
And just like that, I can move again. I shake with relief and turn my eyes on my father, who has to have witnessed my moment of paralysis.
“You’re not the only Rose with an affinity now, daughter,” he taunts.
Marcus surges forward, murder in his eyes, and grabs my father by his lapels. “What did you do to my mate?”
My father arches an eyebrow, unbothered by Marcus’ aggression. “You too, Haley? Interesting. She’s gotten her hooks into you too, I see. Worthless omega whore.”
Cassian lets out a low growl. “Say that about my mate again, and I’ll put you on the ground.”
“Underground would be better,” Ian says, drawing his scribe.
“Stop,” I plead, turning to face my pack. “Please.”
Their hackles still raised, they back off, Marcus shoving my father as he releases him.
He laughs. My monster of a father laughs as though three powerful alphas didn’t just threaten him.
“Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of,” he says, dismissing us with a wave, “and know that there is nothing you can do to stop the Prince’s plans.
I will have your affinity for him, daughter, even if it kills you. And make no mistake, it will.”
My father brushes the chalk off his hands, gathers his briefcase and leaves the room, turning back just long enough to shoot me a vindictive smirk.
Seventy-five percent. My father’s success rate is seventy-five percent. He’ll be coming for me soon.