Page 135 of House Ignis

"Normal drills today," he said, grabbing his wraps. "But I was thinking of adding magic."

No hello. No warmth. Just cold, calculated protector mode.

"Cool," I muttered back.

The air between us was thick with everything neither of us would say, the bond humming beneath my skin like static. He was acting like none of it had happened.

Like everything he ever said in the tunnels, in the baths, in the damn bond… meant nothing.

And gods, I hated him for it. But I also didn't. Because deep down, I knew if I let myself fall, he'd ruin me. Break me. I couldn't survive that. So fine. This was better. Safer.

"Okay, let's go, princess," he said, sliding into his stance.

And that was it. I snapped.

I went off at him. Every lesson he'd taught me over the last week—every strike, every kick, every furious spell—I hurled it all at him. My body moved on instinct, rage-fueled, controlled chaos. He side-stepped me easily, shadows flicking out like whips, knocking me back just enough to make me madder.

Then I came at him hard—and his shadows recoiled. They didn't strike; they pulled back.

"Yes, that's it—because your shadows fucking love me. They wouldn't hurt me like you do."

Silence. He froze. I blinked, my breath catching as I realized I'd screamed it through the bond.

His chest rose and fell with hard, heavy breaths. Something shifted in the set of his face. Then, low and rough, his voice answered through the same mental tether.

"Yeah," he said. "They fucking do."

We stood there—heaving, glowing, magic sparking at our feet in the mist.

"You're pissed," he added, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Oh, hello. There you fucking are.

Gods, that smirk made me want to punch him.

I stood tall and refused to give him the satisfaction. No reaction. No weakness. I turned around—sharp, deliberate—and started to walk away.

But before I could take three steps, he was there. He grabbed my wrist and spun me around, his grip firm but careful.

"We're not done," he growled.

His voice was low and cold, his jaw tight. But his scent wrapped around me, dark spice and storm-soaked smoke, and gods, I wanted to melt into him. But I didn't. I ignored the ache in my chest, the part of me that was still reaching for him.

"No," I said, my voice flat and edged with ice. "We are. We're done, Asher."

His eyes flared, the silver turning to a turbulent storm. Shadows rose around him in a violent pulse, lashing around his feet.

I looked him dead in the eye.

"Jeremy's waiting for me."

I said it flatly. Cruelly.

The fury that roared through the bond made me flinch. It boiled through me, hot, sharp, and brutally possessive. But then, as quickly as the storm had risen, he let go.

He let me go. He didn't say another word.

I walked away, and the bond behind me didn't just quiet. It shattered.