“You do not get to decide when control matters and when it does not.”
Something ugly flickered behind Sten’s glowing eyes then.
Shame.
Gone almost instantly.
But I saw it.
And suddenly the pieces clicked together in horrible slow motion.
The possessiveness.
The intensity.
The way his emotions seemed almost physically dangerous.
The way the air itself reacted when he lost his temper.
Sten wasn’t simply powerful.
He was struggling with controlling his power.
And he didn’t tell me.
The realization hurt unexpectedly.
Professor Kenna folded her hands neatly before her.
“You are not the first Monster to arrive at Runevald believing instinct justifies recklessness,” she said softly. “And you will not be the first one destroyed by it either if you do not heed my words.”
My stomach twisted hard.
Destroyed?
Sten said nothing.
But the muscles in his jaw flexed once.
“Monsters might roam these halls, but none of you are feral beasts,” the professor continued. “You are the descendant of bloodlines older than most realms. Behave accordingly.”
The silence afterward felt enormous.
Heavy.
And beneath it all—fear prickled softly through me for the very first time.
Not fear of Sten.
Fear for him.
Because suddenly I understood something I hadn’t before.
The Institute wasn’t simply teaching him.
It was containing him.
Professor Kenna’s gaze finally softened slightly.
