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I’ve missed it.
I jerk away from him when I catch myself. I can’t allow myself those thoughts—not after the way he’s treated me. Not after all he has done. Alexander is staring at me, his blue eyes piercing into mine.
No matter how this meeting plays out, I’m fucked.
FIVE
ALEXANDER
Alize is alive.
She’s not hurt, either.
I want to crush her to my chest and run my fingers through her hair, to press kisses to her cheeks and tell her how sorry I am for letting her walk away without telling her how Iactuallyfeel about her.
But there’s no time for that, and she’s still vehemently angry at me.
As fucked up as it is, her anger is actually comforting. That she can be this upset means there are still pieces of her left. This whole thing hasn’t broken her. Now, I just need to figure out a way to ensure she doesn’t walk out of here into her death.
Dr. Martin’s office is as exquisite as you’d expect of a dragon like him—the walls are lined with plaques, trophies, awards he has received, and pictures of him with some of the world’s most influential people. There’s even one of him with my father.
He sits behind a heavy, antique, dark wood desk. Large floor to ceiling windows on either side of the room let in huge swaths of light, the brilliance setting the gold lining the walls aflame.
Alize and I settle into the two leather chairs in front of him.
I watch Dr. Martin, my fingers digging into the armrests of the chair. Beside me, Alize’s leg bounces anxiously, her hazel eyes trained on the rug beneath us. I reach over to rest my hand on her knee, stilling her foot.
Her eyes shoot up to mine, glaring. I give her a soft smirk.
Already, I feel more alive. Her fire is delicious.
I’ve missed it.
“Thank you for joining us, Miss Moreau and Mr. Duke,” the Chancellor’s voice pulls me back to the present. I nod, pulling a smile.
He smiles back, and if it weren’t for the glint of danger in his coal eyes, I would think it’s genuine. That’s the thing about Dr. Martin—he’s a master of disguise. I’m certain he’s been assessing me from the moment we met at the Hemlock House gates.
I’ll have to navigate this situation well if I am to come away with what I want.
“Thank you for having us, and for ensuring that we get a fair investigation,” I say, tightening my grip on Alize’s knee. Through the corner of my eye, I can see her gaze locked on me. I bet there’s a lot she wants to say.
Thankfully though, she keeps her mouth shut.
“Of course,” Dr. Martin says with a toothy smile.
His grin reminds me of a shark’s. He leans back in his leather chair with a groan, tenting his fingers in the air. He appraises us with those beady eyes over the apex of his fingers, looking between Alize and I.
I hope we look the way I want us to—united.
Maybe he’ll excuse Alize’s scowl if I play this off correctly.
“Of course, Mr. Duke. You can imagine my surprise to have received the report. Due process is important to me.” He blinks slowly. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened the last time.”
Ah, yes.
The last time.
The freshman that Cesare killed minutes after the bulletin was sent out. It made him an urban legend—it was the first time in decades that the Treaty had called for the possibility of a death on campus, and I felt lucky for it to have happened while I was here.
