The combat training arena was a nightmare.

A massive circular pit sunk into the ground, lined with stone bleachers that rose toward the ceiling like the tiers of an ancient colosseum. The floor was packed dirt, stained dark in places I didn't want to think about. Weapons hung on the walls-swords, daggers, staffs, things I couldn't name-all of them gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights.

And standing in the center of it all was Instructor Morwen.

She was tall. Broad-shouldered. Her gray hair cropped short, her face a roadmap of old scars. When she smiled, it looked like she was imagining all the ways she could kill you.

"Welcome," she said, her voice carrying through the arena without a microphone, "to your first combat trial."

The students around me shifted nervously. There were maybe forty of us, standing in loose clusters on the arena floor. Most of them were already in athletic gear-tight leggings, tank tops, bare feet. I was still in my uniform, because no one had told me to dress differently.

"At Silvermoon," Morwen continued, "we do not coddle. We do not wait. We throw you into the fire and see if you emerge as ash or as steel."

She walked along the edge of the pit, her boots leaving prints in the dirt.

"Today's exercise is simple. One on one. No weapons. No shifting. Just you, your opponent, and the will to win."

My stomach dropped.

One on one?

I looked around at the other students. They were stretching, cracking their knuckles, exchanging confident smirks. A girl with a shaved head and arms covered in tattoos was doing lunges, her muscles rippling under her skin.

I couldn't fight. I'd never thrown a punch in my life. The closest I'd come to violence was when I'd pushed a boy in fifth grade for pulling my hair, and even then I'd apologized immediately.

"Ela Demir."

Morwen's voice cut through my panic.

I looked up. She was staring directly at me.

"You're first."

The other students climbed the bleachers.

I stood alone in the pit, my arms wrapped around myself, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my teeth.

Morwen gestured to the opposite side of the arena. A door opened, and a girl walked through.

She was beautiful in a sharp, predatory way. Long black hair pulled into a high ponytail. Almond-shaped eyes the color of honey. A body that looked like it had been sculpted for combat-lean, muscular, balanced.

I recognized her. She'd been at the table next to mine in the dining hall. The one who'd laughed when the girl with the nose ring called me a human.

"Freya," Morwen announced. "Wolf-born. Third-generation Silvermoon legacy. Undefeated in junior sparring."

Freya smiled. It was the smile of someone who enjoyed causing pain.

"And Ela," Morwen continued. "Human. No combat experience. No wolf blood. No chance."

The bleachers erupted in laughter.

I felt my face burn.

"Begin," Morwen said.

Freya didn't rush.

She walked toward me slowly, deliberately, like she had all the time in the world. Her eyes swept over me-my soft stomach, my thick thighs, my trembling hands-and her smile widened.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll make it quick."

I backed away. "I don't want to fight you."

"That's not how this works."

She lunged.

I didn't even see the punch coming. Her fist connected with my ribs, and the air exploded out of my lungs. I stumbled sideways, gasping, my hand pressed to my side.

"One," Freya said.

She hit me again. This time my jaw. My head snapped back, and I tasted blood.

"Two."

Another punch. My stomach. I doubled over, retching.

"Three."

She grabbed my hair and yanked my head up so I was looking at her face. Up close, her eyes weren't honey-colored. They were yellow. Like a wolf's.

"Stay down," she whispered. "And maybe I'll stop."

I should have stayed down.

But something inside me-something small and stubborn and furious-refused.

"No," I choked out.

Freya's smile vanished.

She threw me to the ground and kicked me. Hard. Right in the ribs again. I heard something crack.

The bleachers were cheering.

I curled into a ball, my arms over my head, trying to protect myself. But Freya kept kicking. Kept hitting. Kept hurting me.

"Get up, human."

"She can't even defend herself."

"Pathetic."

The words blurred together. The pain blurred together. Everything went hazy, like I was watching myself from far away.

And then-

Something shifted.

It started in my chest.

A heat. Small at first, like a coal buried in ash. Then it spread-through my ribs, down my arms, up my throat. It burned, but it didn't hurt. It felt like waking up. Like remembering something I'd forgotten.

My eyes opened.

Freya was standing over me, her fist raised for another blow.

But I wasn't afraid anymore.

I was angry.

The heat exploded.

Freya flew backward.

Not stumbled. Not fell. Flew-like she'd been hit by a truck. Her body crashed into the wall of the arena twenty feet away, and she hit the stone with a sickening crunch.

Silence.

Absolute, complete silence.

I pushed myself up on shaking arms. My ribs still hurt. My jaw still throbbed. But my eyes-my eyes felt different. Brighter. Sharper.

Someone on the bleachers whispered, "Her eyes are glowing."

I looked down at my reflection in a puddle of water on the arena floor.

They were right.

My irises were burning gold.

"What the hell was that?"

"She threw Freya across the room without touching her."

"Humans can't do that."

"She's not human."

The whispers crashed over me like waves. I staggered to my feet, my legs unsteady, my whole body trembling.

Instructor Morwen was staring at me. For the first time, she didn't look confident. She looked uncertain. Worried.

"Ela Demir," she said slowly. "Report to the headmaster's office. Immediately."

"But I didn't-"

"Now."

I didn't argue.

I turned and walked toward the exit, every eye in the arena following me. My boots left prints in the dirt-the same dirt stained with my blood, with Freya's blood, with the evidence of something I didn't understand.

As I reached the door, I looked back.

The bleachers were full of shocked faces. Freya was being helped to her feet by two other students, her nose bleeding, her eyes wide with fear.

Fear of me.

And standing at the very top of the bleachers, separate from everyone else, was Nikolai.

He wasn't shocked.

He wasn't scared.

He was watching me with those ice-blue eyes, his jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides.

And as our gazes met, his lips moved.

I couldn't hear him. Too many people were talking, too many voices overlapping.

But I could read his lips.

"She's not human."

The hallway outside the arena was empty.

I leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor, my head between my knees, my whole body shaking.

What had just happened?

One minute I was being beaten into the ground. The next, I was throwing a girl across a room with nothing but my mind.

Her eyes are glowing.

I lifted my head and looked at my reflection in the metal panel of a door.

My eyes were brown again. Normal. Human.

But I knew what I'd seen. What they'd all seen.

Something was inside me. Something powerful. Something that didn't belong in a human body.

And now everyone knew it.

The headmaster's office was at the top of the clock tower.

I climbed the stairs slowly, each step sending a jolt of pain through my ribs. I was pretty sure at least one of them was cracked. Maybe more.

The door was oak, carved with the same wolf-and-moon motif as everything else in this place. I knocked.

"Enter."

Headmaster Vane was sitting behind a massive desk, his gold-flecked eyes fixed on me. He didn't look surprised to see me. He didn't look angry.

He looked tired.

"Sit down, Ela."

I sat.

"You're wondering what happened in the arena," he said.

"That's one way to put it."

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "What you experienced today is called a manifestation. It happens when a dormant bloodline awakens under extreme stress."

"Dormant bloodline." I repeated the words like they were in a foreign language. "I'm human."

"You thought you were human." He paused. "You are not."

My hands started shaking again. "Then what am I?"

Headmaster Vane was quiet for a long moment. Then he opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a photograph. Old. Yellowed at the edges. He slid it across the desk toward me.

I picked it up.

It was a picture of a woman. Young. Beautiful. Dark hair, dark eyes, a smile that was both warm and sad.

My mother.

But not my mother as I knew her. This woman was wearing a Silvermoon Academy uniform.

"You're lying," I whispered.

"I never lie, Ela. It's inefficient." He leaned forward. "Your mother was a student here, thirty years ago. She was also human. And she also manifested."

I stared at the photograph. At my mother's face. At the uniform she'd never mentioned, the school she'd never named, the life she'd hidden from me.

"She never told me."

"Of course she didn't. She was trying to protect you."

"From what?"

Headmaster Vane's eyes met mine.

"From the truth," he said. "The truth that you carry wolf blood. That you are the descendant of an ancient line of shifters thought to be extinct. And that there are people in this academy-powerful people-who would kill to have you."

The room spun.

I gripped the edges of my chair.

"Ela." His voice was softer now. Almost gentle. "Your mother left this place because she fell in love with someone she shouldn't have. A wolf. A man whose blood now runs through your veins."

My father.

The man my mother never talked about. The man whose picture didn't exist anywhere in our apartment. The man I'd assumed was dead or a deadbeat or both.

"He's here," I said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Is he the one who sent the invitation?"

Headmaster Vane didn't answer.

But he didn't have to.

I already knew.

I don't remember leaving the office.

I don't remember climbing down the tower stairs, or walking across the courtyard, or unlocking the door to my room.

But suddenly I was there, sitting on my bed, the photograph of my mother clutched in my hands.

She was trying to protect you.

From what? From who?

A knock on my door made me jump.

"Go away."

The door opened anyway.

Nikolai stood in the doorway. His ice-blue eyes were softer than before. Not warm-never warm-but less hostile. Almost... concerned.

"I saw what happened," he said.

"Congratulations. You have eyes."

He stepped inside. Closed the door behind him.

"You need to understand something, Ela." His voice was low. Careful. "What you did today-throwing Freya like that-it's not normal. Even for shifters."

"I know."

"No." He shook his head. "You don't. That kind of power... it's not just rare. It's dangerous. To you. To everyone around you."

I looked up at him. "Are you scared of me, Nikolai?"

His jaw tightened.

"Yes," he said quietly. "And so should you be."

He turned and walked to the door. Paused with his hand on the knob.

"The others are going to come for you now. The ones who saw. The ones who heard." He looked back at me over his shoulder. "They're not going to want to be your friend, Ela. They're going to want to use you."

"And what do you want?"

He was silent for a long moment.

Then he opened the door and walked out without answering.

But before he left, I saw something in his eyes.

Something that looked almost like fear.

Not fear of me.

Fear for me.

I woke to whispers.

Not real whispers-not voices in my room. But I could feel them anyway, crawling under my door, seeping through the cracks in the walls, wrapping around my throat like invisible hands.

She threw Freya across the arena.

Her eyes were glowing.

She's not human.

She's not human.

She's not human.

I pressed my pillow over my face and screamed into it.

The dining hall was worse than I imagined.

The moment I walked through the doors, the noise stopped. Not gradually. Not like a wave receding. It stopped, mid-sentence, mid-bite, mid-laugh. Hundreds of heads turned toward me. Hundreds of eyes locked onto my face.

I kept walking.

Heads turned to follow me. Like sunflowers tracking the sun. Like predators tracking prey.

Or like prey tracking a predator, a small voice whispered in my head.

I wasn't sure which one I was anymore.

I grabbed a tray. Piled food onto it without looking. Found an empty table in the corner-the farthest corner, the darkest corner, the corner no one else wanted.

No one sat with me.

No one sat near me.

The girl with the nose ring-the one who'd sneered at me yesterday-crossed to the other side of the hall when I passed her table. A boy I'd never spoken to spit on the floor as I walked by.

But they didn't laugh.

They didn't whisper insults loud enough for me to hear.

They just... watched.

And that was worse.

"Everyone's afraid of you now."

Kai slid into the seat across from me without asking. He was carrying a tray loaded with food-enough for three people-and he started eating immediately, like he hadn't just said something devastating.

"I don't want them to be afraid of me," I said.

"I know." He chewed, swallowed, pointed his fork at me. "But fear is better than contempt. Trust me."

"Is it?"

He considered this. "Contempt gets you ignored. Fear gets you left alone. In this place, alone is safe."

"I don't feel safe."

"No," he agreed. "You feel like a monster. I know."

I stared at him. "How do you know?"

Kai put down his fork. His brown eyes-warm, gold-flecked, kind-met mine without flinching.

"Because I've been where you are," he said quietly. "Not the throwing-people-across-rooms part. The other part. The part where everyone looks at you like you're something they don't understand, so they decide to hate you instead."

I wanted to ask him what he meant. But before I could, a shadow fell over the table.

Lukas.

He was smiling. Of course he was smiling. He was always smiling, that beautiful, empty, infuriating smile.

"Ela," he said, ignoring Kai completely. "I've been looking for you."

"Found me."

"Indeed." His green eyes swept over me, lingering on my face, my neck, my hands. "You caused quite a stir yesterday."

"That wasn't my intention."

"Intentions don't matter. Only results." He leaned down, bracing his hands on the edge of the table, bringing his face close to mine. "And the result is that you're the most interesting person in this school right now."

Kai made a sound in his throat. Not quite a growl. Not quite a cough. Something in between.

Lukas ignored him.

"I'm having a private dinner tonight," he said. "In my quarters. Just a few close friends. I'd like you to come."

A few close friends. Right. And I was born yesterday.

"Why?" I asked.

Lukas tilted his head. "Does there need to be a reason?"

"Yes."

He laughed-a real laugh, warm and surprising. "I like you, Ela. You don't pretend. You don't play games. It's refreshing." He straightened up. "Seven o'clock. I'll send someone to escort you."

He walked away before I could refuse.

Kai was watching me with an expression I couldn't read.

"Don't go," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because Lukas doesn't do anything without a reason. And his reasons are never good."

I looked down at my plate. The food had gone cold.

"I'll think about it," I said.

But we both knew I'd already decided.

Nikolai caught me in the hallway outside the library.

His hand closed around my wrist-firm, not painful-and pulled me into an alcove between two bookshelves. The sudden darkness swallowed us, made the world shrink to just the two of us, just our breathing, just the heat radiating off his body.

"What are you-"

"Don't go to his dinner."

It wasn't a request.

I pulled my wrist free. "Why does everyone keep telling me what to do?"

"Because you're not listening." His ice-blue eyes burned in the dim light. "Lukas isn't inviting you because he likes you. He's inviting you because he wants something."

"Everyone wants something."

"Yes." He stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell him-pine and snow and something darker, something that made my pulse spike. "But Lukas wants you. And not in the way you think."

I should have stepped back. Should have put distance between us.

I didn't.

"Then in what way?" I asked.

Nikolai's jaw tightened. His hands-those large, scarred hands-opened and closed at his sides, like he was fighting the urge to reach for me.

"He wants to claim you," he said. "Before anyone else can."

My heart stopped.

"Claim me," I repeated. "Like... like property?"

"Like a mate." The word came out rough, torn. "Shifters can bond with humans. It's rare, but it's possible. And if Lukas bonds with you, your power becomes his. Your blood becomes his. You become his."

I felt sick.

"But I don't-I don't even know him. I don't want-"

"It doesn't matter what you want." Nikolai's voice was flat. Cold. "To him, you're a prize. A weapon. Something to be won."

"Then what do you want?"

The question hung between us.

Nikolai stared at me. His chest was rising and falling too fast. His hands were trembling-actually trembling.

"I want you to stay away from him," he said finally.

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

He turned and walked out of the alcove, disappearing into the bright light of the hallway.

I stood there in the darkness, my hand pressed to my chest, feeling my heart race.

He wants to claim you.

Like a mate.

I didn't know what that meant. Didn't know what I was, what I could do, what anyone wanted from me.

But I knew one thing.

I was going to that dinner.

Not because I trusted Lukas.

Because I needed to know the truth. And Nikolai wasn't going to give it to me.

Lukas's quarters were in the east wing of the main building.

They were nothing like my tiny room in Moonshadow Hall. A massive sitting room with floor-to-ceiling windows, a fireplace big enough to stand in, furniture upholstered in dark velvet. Paintings hung on the walls-not reproductions, originals, some of them centuries old.

A table was set for two.

Not a few close friends. Two.

I should have turned around and walked out.

Instead, I sat down.

Lukas emerged from a side door, carrying a bottle of wine. He'd changed out of his uniform into a simple black shirt and dark trousers. His hair was still damp, like he'd just showered.

"You came," he said, sounding genuinely pleased.

"You said dinner."

"I did." He poured wine into two glasses-deep red, almost black-and slid one toward me. "Do you drink?"

"Not usually."

"Tonight's not usual."

I picked up the glass but didn't drink. Lukas sat across from me, his green eyes catching the firelight.

"You're cautious," he observed. "I respect that."

"I'm not cautious. I'm terrified."

"Of me?"

"Of everything."

He smiled. Not the empty smile from before. Something softer. Almost real.

"Good," he said. "Fear keeps you alive."

The food was incredible.

Course after course-roasted meats, fresh vegetables, bread still warm from the oven, a dessert that tasted like honey and cream. I ate more than I had in days, and Lukas watched me the whole time, barely touching his own plate.

"You're not eating," I said.

"I'm watching."

"That's creepy."

"I know." He leaned back in his chair, cradling his wine glass. "But I can't help it. You're fascinating, Ela."

"I'm really not."

"You threw a girl across a room with your mind. Your eyes glowed gold. You're sitting in the quarters of an alpha heir, eating his food, and you're not even slightly intimidated." He tilted his head. "That's not nothing."

I put down my fork. "What do you want from me, Lukas?"

He was quiet for a moment. The fire crackled. Somewhere outside, a wolf howled.

"I want to help you," he said finally.

"Help me how?"

"Understand what you are. Control what you can do. Survive this place." He leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "You're not like the others, Ela. You're not like anyone. And that makes you a target."

"So you want to protect me?"

"Yes."

"Just like that? Out of the goodness of your heart?"

Lukas laughed. "There's no goodness in my heart. But there is... curiosity. And maybe something else." His voice dropped. "Something I haven't felt in a long time."

I should have left.

Every instinct I had was screaming at me to stand up, walk out, never look back.

But I didn't.

Because his eyes-those green, hungry eyes-were looking at me like I mattered. Like I was more than the punchline of a joke. Like I was seen.

And after a lifetime of being invisible, that was impossible to walk away from.

The table was cleared. The candles had burned low.

Lukas stood up and walked around the table to my side. He knelt beside my chair, bringing his face level with mine.

"I'm going to ask you something," he said quietly. "And I want you to think before you answer."

My throat was dry. "Okay."

He took my hand.

His fingers were warm, his palm calloused, his touch surprisingly gentle. He turned my hand over, traced the lines on my palm with his thumb.

"I want you to consider something," he said. "A partnership. A bond. Something that would protect you from everyone who wants to hurt you."

"Protect me how?"

"By making you mine."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

"Lukas-"

"I'm not talking about ownership." His voice was urgent now, intense. "I'm talking about belonging. To someone who can keep you safe. To someone who won't let them tear you apart."

"You don't even know me."

"I know enough." He lifted my hand to his lips. Pressed a kiss to my knuckles. "I know you're brave. I know you're scared. I know you've been alone your whole life, and you're tired of it."

I couldn't breathe.

"Ela." His green eyes burned into mine. "I want you to mate with me."

The room tilted.

"Not now," he continued quickly. "Not tonight. But soon. Before the others figure out what you are. Before they try to take you for themselves."

"Others?"

"The alphas." His jaw tightened. "Nikolai. Kai. Thorne. They all want you. They just haven't admitted it yet. Not even to themselves."

I pulled my hand back. Stood up. Stumbled away from the table.

Lukas rose slowly, watching me with those hungry eyes.

"I need to go," I said.

"Think about what I said."

"I-I will."

I was lying.

I wasn't going to think about it. I was going to run back to my room, lock the door, and pretend this conversation had never happened.

But as I reached the door, Lukas's voice stopped me.

"One more thing, Ela."

I turned.

He was standing in the middle of the room, the firelight casting half his face in shadow. He looked like something out of a painting. Beautiful. Terrible. Ancient.

"Nikolai," he said. "He told you not to trust me, didn't he?"

I said nothing.

"He's right not to trust me. But you shouldn't trust him either." Lukas's smile returned-that empty, beautiful, terrifying smile. "Because he wants the same thing I do. He just doesn't have the courage to admit it."

I opened the door.

"Ela."

I looked back one last time.

Lukas's green eyes caught the firelight.

"Mate with me," he said softly, "and I'll give you the world. Refuse... and I'll watch it burn you alive."

I should have run.

Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to turn around, to flee, to put as much distance between Lukas and myself as possible. But my legs wouldn't move. My feet were rooted to the floor, my hand frozen on the door handle, my eyes locked on his.

Mate with me.

The words echoed in my skull, bouncing off the walls of my brain like bullets in a chamber.

"No," I said.

Lukas's smile didn't waver. "No?"

"That's what I said." I forced my legs to move, turned the handle, pulled the door open. "I'm not mating with anyone. I'm not a prize to be won. I'm not a weapon to be used."

"Ela-"

"I said no."

I stepped into the hallway.

And Lukas followed.

He caught up to me in three strides.

His hand closed around my arm-not gentle this time. Firm. Demanding. He pulled me back toward his door, his fingers digging into my skin hard enough to bruise.

"Let go of me."

"Not until you hear me out."

"I heard you. I said no."

"Ela, please." His voice cracked on the word. For a moment, the mask slipped, and I saw something underneath. Something desperate. Something almost... scared. "You don't understand what's coming. The others-they won't ask. They'll just take. I'm trying to give you a choice."

"By forcing me?"

He flinched.

I yanked my arm free. "That's not a choice, Lukas. That's just a different kind of cage."

His green eyes darkened. The softness I'd glimpsed vanished, replaced by something harder. Sharper. More dangerous.

"You think Nikolai will be different?" he asked, his voice low. "You think Kai will ask politely? Thorne?" He laughed-a hollow, bitter sound. "They're wolves, Ela. We're all wolves. And wolves don't ask permission."

"Then maybe I should stay away from all of you."

"Too late for that."

He stepped toward me.

I stepped back.

He stepped forward again, and suddenly my back hit the wall. The cold stone pressed against my spine, and Lukas's body blocked out everything else-the light, the air, the possibility of escape.

"Lukas, don't-"

"I'm sorry."

He kissed me.

It wasn't gentle.

It wasn't the kind of kiss you see in movies, the kind that makes your heart flutter and your toes curl. It was hard. Demanding. His lips crushed against mine, and one hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back, while the other pressed against my hip, pinning me to the wall.

I couldn't breathe.

Couldn't think.

Couldn't do anything but feel-his mouth on mine, his body against mine, the heat of him seeping through my clothes like fire.

And for one terrible, shameful second, I didn't push him away.

Because no one had ever kissed me before.

No one had ever looked at me like I was something worth wanting. Worth fighting for. Worth taking.

But that second passed.

And then I was pushing. Shoving. My hands against his chest, my nails digging in, my teeth closing on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

Lukas pulled back with a hiss.

His lip was bleeding. A thin line of red traced down his chin, and he touched it with his fingers, staring at the blood like he couldn't believe what had just happened.

"You bit me," he said.

"You kissed me without permission."

"I told you. Wolves don't ask."

"Then maybe you should learn."

I shoved past him, stumbling down the hallway, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might crack my ribs. My lips were still tingling. My skin was still burning where he'd touched me.

And somewhere deep in my chest, something was waking up. Something dark. Something hungry.

Something that had liked being kissed.

I hated myself for that.

I made it to the staircase before I heard the growl.

Not Lukas. Someone else.

I turned.

Nikolai was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his ice-blue eyes fixed on my face. On my lips. On the way my hands were shaking.

"What happened?" His voice was flat. Controlled. But his hands-his hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and I could see the veins standing out in his neck.

"Nothing."

"Your lipstick is smeared. Your hair is a mess. And you smell like-" He stopped. Inhaled. His whole body went rigid. "You smell like him."

"Nikolai, please-"

"Did he touch you?"

"It doesn't matter-"

"Did he touch you?"

The words came out as a roar. The walls shook. Dust rained down from the ceiling. And Nikolai's eyes-his ice-blue eyes-were no longer blue.

They were gold.

Burning, furious, ancient gold.

I took a step back. "Nikolai, calm down-"

"Answer me."

"He kissed me." The words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other. "I didn't want him to. I pushed him away. I bit him. I-"

Nikolai moved.

I didn't see him go. One moment he was at the bottom of the stairs. The next, he was gone, and I heard a crash from somewhere above me-the sound of a door being ripped off its hinges, wood splintering, glass shattering.

I ran after him.

By the time I reached Lukas's quarters, the door was in pieces.

Nikolai had Lukas pinned against the wall, one hand around his throat, the other drawn back in a fist that was already bloodied. Lukas's nose was broken. His lip was split open again. But he was smiling.

"That's it," Lukas choked out. "Show everyone what you really are."

Nikolai punched him.

The sound was sickening-flesh against flesh, bone against bone. Lukas's head snapped back, and blood sprayed across the wall.

"Stop!" I screamed.

Neither of them listened.

Nikolai hit him again. And again. And again. Each blow landed with a wet crunch, and Lukas took every one of them, still smiling, still bleeding, still enjoying it.

"You're going to kill him!"

"Good."

"Nikolai, stop!"

I threw myself between them.

For a moment, everything froze.

Nikolai's fist was inches from my face. His chest was heaving. His eyes-still gold, still burning-stared down at me with an intensity that made my bones ache.

"Move," he said.

"No."

"Ela, move."

"You're going to kill him."

"Yes."

"Then I'm not moving."

We stood there, locked in a standoff, my body pressed against his, his fist raised, Lukas's blood dripping onto the floor between us.

Slowly, so slowly, Nikolai lowered his arm.

His hands were shaking.

"Why?" he asked. His voice cracked. "Why do you protect him?"

"Because I don't want anyone else to die for me."

Something in his face shifted. The gold faded from his eyes, replaced by blue-ice-blue, cold-blue, the blue of glaciers and frozen seas. But underneath the cold, there was something else.

Pain.

"Fine," he said. He grabbed my wrist. "You're coming with me."

"Where-"

"Somewhere safe."

He pulled me out of the room, past Lukas's broken body, past the shattered door, down the stairs, through hallways I didn't recognize, past students who scattered like leaves before a storm.

I stumbled after him, trying to keep up, my wrist burning where he held me.

"Nikolai, slow down-"

"No."

"My room is the other way-"

"You're not going to your room."

"Then where?"

He didn't answer.

His room was at the top of the north tower.

I'd never been inside before. I'd never even seen this part of the academy-the narrow spiral staircase, the iron door, the symbols carved into the stone that glowed faintly in the dark.

Nikolai pushed the door open and pulled me inside.

The room was huge. A bed big enough for four people dominated one wall, covered in dark furs. Bookshelves lined another wall, filled with old texts and strange artifacts. A fireplace crackled in the corner, throwing warm light across the floor.

But I barely noticed any of it.

Because Nikolai had let go of my wrist.

And now he was pacing.

Back and forth. Back and forth. His hands raking through his white-blonde hair, his jaw clenched, his whole body vibrating with barely contained fury.

"You shouldn't have gone to his dinner," he said.

"You told me that."

"I told you not to trust him."

"I don't trust him."

"Then why did you go?"

I didn't have an answer.

Nikolai stopped pacing. Turned to face me. His eyes-those impossible ice-blue eyes-locked onto mine.

"He kissed you," he said.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"What?"

"Where did he kiss you?" He was in front of me suddenly, too close, his body radiating heat. "Here?" His fingers brushed my jaw. "Or here?" They traced my lower lip.

I couldn't breathe.

"Nikolai-"

"Answer me."

"Both," I whispered.

His hand dropped.

He stepped back. Turned away. Pressed his palms against the wall, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking.

"I should have killed him," he said quietly.

"You shouldn't have."

"He touched you."

"I'm not yours, Nikolai."

He spun around. "That's where you're wrong."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and electric.

I stared at him. He stared at me.

"What did you say?" I asked.

Nikolai's chest rose and fell. His hands were still pressed against the wall, his knuckles white, his whole body trembling.

"I said," he repeated slowly, "that you're wrong. About not being mine."

"I'm not-"

"You are." He pushed off the wall and walked toward me. Slowly this time. Carefully. Like he was approaching a wounded animal. "You've been mine since the moment you stepped onto this campus. Since the moment I smelled you. Since the moment I saw you."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It doesn't have to." He stopped in front of me. Reached out. Touched my face-my cheek, my jaw, the corner of my mouth where Lukas's lips had been. "Fate doesn't make sense, Ela. It just is."

"Fate?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he turned away again. Walked to the door. And locked it.

Three bolts. A chain. And something else-something that glowed silver when his hand touched it, sealing the door shut with a pulse of light.

"What are you doing?" My voice came out higher than I wanted.

Nikolai turned to face me.

"You're staying here tonight," he said.

"What? No. I'm going back to my room."

"You're staying here."

"You can't just-"

"Ela." His voice was soft now. Almost gentle. "Lukas isn't going to stop. He's not going to forget. And after tonight, he's going to be angrier than ever." He took a step toward me. "Your room isn't safe. The hallways aren't safe. Nowhere is safe except here."

"With you?"

"With me."

I looked at the locked door. At the glowing seal. At the man standing between me and freedom.

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

Nikolai's jaw tightened.

"No," he said. "You don't."

He walked to the bed. Pulled back the furs. Grabbed a blanket and threw it on the floor in front of the fireplace.

"You can sleep there," he said. "I'll take the bed."

"Generous."

"I'm not a monster, Ela. I'm just trying to keep you alive."

He lay down on the bed, his back to me, his body rigid.

I stood in the middle of the room, my arms wrapped around myself, my heart racing.

He locked me in.

He's keeping me here.

And I don't know if I should be terrified or grateful.

I lay down on the floor. The blanket was soft. The fire was warm. And despite everything-despite the fear, the confusion, the chaos-I felt something I hadn't felt since I'd arrived at Silvermoon Academy.

Safe.

"Goodnight, Ela," Nikolai said from the bed.

"Goodnight, Nikolai."

"This doesn't change anything," he said quietly. "You're still not safe. Not really. But tonight... tonight you are."

I closed my eyes.

And for the first time in days, I slept.