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The silence that follows is heavy enough to suffocate in.

Finally, James nods. "Crystal clear. But Draven?" His smile is sharp as broken glass. "You know the rules. If she's yours, you have to make it official. Otherwise, she's fair game."

Alexander's hand tightens on my hip. "Fine. We'll do it your way."

13

ALEXANDER

The emergency council chamber feels smaller than usual, the walls pressing in with the weight of tradition and violence and centuries of men making decisions that ruin lives. I'm standing at the center of a semi-circle of the most powerful men in the Veritas Order, and every single one of them is looking at me like I've just committed an unforgivable sin.

Maybe I have.

The lighting is different down here—colder, harsher than the seductive crimson of the club above. Fluorescent and unforgiving, the kind that reveals every flaw, every crack in the facade. There are no masks in this room. No pretense. Just five men who hold my leash and a sacred text older than the university itself sitting on the table between us like an accusation.

Nathaniel Davis sits at the head of the table, his expression carved from granite and disappointment. To his right, Julian Voss leans back in his chair with that patient, predatory stillness that makes my skin crawl. Dominic Kane sprawls to the left, still wearing that red tie loose at his throat, looking far too pleased with himself. Evander Thorne—my former faction head, the man who should have let me go eight years ago but didn't—sits with his hands folded neatly, watching me with those dark, bottomless eyes that see too much.

And James Harrington stands near the door, arms crossed, radiating smug satisfaction like he's just won a game I didn't know we were playing.

"Let me make sure I understand this correctly," Nathaniel says, his voice measured and cold. "The woman you brought into this club tonight—the woman you claimed as yours—broke into a restricted office and accessed files containing Serpent secrets. Is that accurate?"

My jaw clenches. "She didn't know⁠—"

"Is. That. Accurate." Each word is clipped, final.

"Yes," I bite out.

Evander shifts slightly, the movement drawing my attention. "The Annual Rites folder was open on the desk when James and Dominic found her. She had her phone out, Alexander. She was photographing the contents."

Fuck.

I knew Elara was looking into something. I knew she was being reckless, asking questions about initiations, spending time with Wesley Carter for reasons that had nothing to do with attraction. But I didn't know she'd gone this far. Didn't know she'd be stupid enough—or brave enough, the distinction feels meaningless right now—to break into a Veritas office during an active event.

"She's a civilian," I say, forcing my voice to remain level even as panic claws at my chest. "She doesn't understand what she saw. She can't⁠—"

"She saw the blood sacrifice schedule," Julian interrupts, his tone almost bored. "She saw names. Dates. Rituals that are meant to remain hidden from anyone outside the inner circle. That's not a small breach, Draven. That's catastrophic."

"So we educate her," I counter. "We make her understand the consequences of⁠—"

"The consequence," Nathaniel says flatly, "is death."

The word lands like a physical blow.

I knew it was coming. The second Dominic's text came through twenty minutes ago—Emergency council. Now. It's about your girl—I knew where this was heading. But hearing it spoken aloud, hearing Nathaniel pronounce a death sentence on Elara with the same tone he'd use to discuss quarterly financial reports, makes something violent and primal surge in my chest.

"No," I say.

Dominic's eyebrows lift. "No?"

"She's under my protection. You can't⁠—"

"Your protection means nothing if she's violated Serpent protocols," Evander says quietly, and the softness of his voice somehow makes it worse. "You know the rules, Atticus. You lived them. When a civilian discovers a Serpent secret⁠—"

"They're forced to join," I finish. My hands curl into fists at my sides. "I know. I was there. But she's a woman. She can't join. Which means you're manufacturing a situation where the only outcome is her death."

"We're not manufacturing anything," Nathaniel says. "We're following protocol. Protocol that has kept this organization secure for over two hundred years. Protocol that you, of all people, should understand the necessity of."

The implication hangs heavy in the air: You tried to run. We brought you back. You should know better than anyone what happens when you cross the Veritas.