CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

DANTE

The first thing I registered was the cold shock of water soaking through my shirt, bleeding slowly into the gold embroidery that marked my rank, and for a moment I simply stared down at it, watching the droplets spread like an infection. Irritation rose immediately, sharp and instinctive, because I despised mess, I despised disorder, and I especially despised anything touching me without permission. The fabric clung unpleasantly to my skin, and the room seemed to fall into a full, choking silence as students backed away in terror.

Then I looked down.

The boy was kneeling at my feet, shoulders shaking, chest heaving, clearly in pain, yet somehow still managing to glare up at me as though I had done something wrong. His eyes were a storm—furious and defiant and far too alive for someone of his station. And that defiance, that insolent challenge in his gaze, irked something deep and ancient inside me, something sharp-edged and instinctively territorial.

I tilted my head slightly, voice dropping.

“Do tell me,” I said slowly, “what on earth possessed you to collide with me of all people? Are you blind, or merely stupid?”

A ripple of horrified whispers swept through the hallway.

The boy lifted his chin.

“It wasn’t my fault,” he snapped, voice hoarse. “I was being pushed. Maybe look around before assuming everyone’s trying to drown you.”

My fingers twitched.

Lucien, standing slightly behind me, let out a soft laugh, one of those low, delighted sounds that meant he was thoroughly entertained. “Oh, bravo,” he murmured. “A Beta with a backbone. That’s new.”

I ignored him.

He was still meeting my eyes, still challenging me, still pushing despite the fact that he was on his knees, trembling, unable to rise properly. I could smell blood—fresh—likely from his back, though I had no intention of checking. It did, however, explain the stiffness in his movements, the way his breath hitched when he tried to straighten.

“Listen carefully,” I said, stepping forward just enough that my shadow fell over him. “I am not in the habit of repeating myself, so take this as a rare courtesy. If you ever—ever—collide with me again, I will make certain it is the last mistake you ever commit.”

He gritted his teeth. “You think I wanted to bump into you? Believe me, Your Majesty, I’d rather throw myself off the roof.”

Lucien snorted. “Darling, do try. I’d pay to watch.”

The boy shot him a murderous glare, which only amused my brother further.

I inhaled slowly, letting the annoyance settle into something colder. “You insolent little wretch,” I murmured. “I could snap your neck for less.”

And I meant it.

The urge was there—hot, precise, deadly—for him daring to stand his ground, for looking me in the eyes like we were equals. Kade, at my right, shifted slightly, sensing the spike in my temper, but he said nothing. He never interfered unless necessary.

I stepped away at last, turning my back on the boy because continuing to look at him was only aggravating me further. “I will deal with you later,” I promised quietly.

Lucien leaned down to whisper, “I do hope you don’t kill him too quickly. He’s terribly fun.”

I ignored him.

But as we continued down the hallway, something made me glance back.

The boy was limping away—slowly, painfully—his breathing uneven, his hand gripping the wall for support. Students scattered away from him like he carried plague, though several were still filming, whispering gleefully about the spectacle.

My irritation sharpened.

I forced my eyes forward. “To the meeting.”

The principal, the dean, and every other pathetic excuse for leadership at the Academy were already standing when we arrived, their faces pale, their hands fidgeting grotesquely. The long mahogany table stretched before us, polished until it gleamed, though the room still reeked faintly of fear.

“Your Majesties,” the principal stammered, “it is an honour—”

“Save your breath,” Lucien muttered, pushing past him and choosing his seat with a lazy flourish.

I took the head of the table, lowering myself into the chair with the weight of someone entitled to rule. Kade sat at the opposite end, silent and observant as always.

“Let us begin,” I said, my voice slicing through the room like a blade.

The principal swallowed. “O-of course.”

I rested my elbows lightly on the armrests. “Explain why we were not informed,” I said, “that there was a breach on the academy grounds yesterday.”

The room froze.

The dean wiped at his forehead nervously. “Your Majesty, the incident seemed rather minor at the time, so w-we—”

“You thought it too insignificant to inform the rulers of the kingdom?” I asked coldly.

The principal nodded weakly. “Y-yes, Your Majesty, we did not wish to disturb you—”

“Your first mistake,” Lucien said pleasantly, smiling at them like a cat watching dying prey.

“And your second,” I continued calmly, “was presuming you had the authority to decide what constitutes a threat to the crown.”

The principal trembled. “We… w-we apologise, Your Majesty. It was an oversight.”

I slammed my hand on the table, making several of them flinch violently.

“An oversight?” I repeated sharply. “Do you understand anything at all? If this academy is breached, the kingdom is endangered. If the kingdom is endangered, the crown is endangered. The three of us are endangered. And you sit here telling me you didn’t want to disturb us?”

The sub-dean cleared his throat. “If you had provided us with more notice, perhaps we could have handled—”

He did not finish the sentence.

In less than five seconds, Lucien moved.

He slid out of his chair, gliding across the floor with unnatural elegance, and before the sub-dean could gasp, my brother had sunk two fingers into the man’s chest and torn out his heart with a cheerful hum.

The sub-dean collapsed to the floor.

The heart dangled from Lucien’s fingertips like a morbid trinket.

“Now,” Lucien chirped, smiling sweetly, “does anyone else have something utterly idiotic to say?”

No one breathed.

Kade didn’t flinch.

I didn’t blink.

Lucien was a psychopath—everyone knew that—but he was my brother, and I had long since grown desensitised to the carnage he enjoyed.

The principal began shaking. “Y-your Majesties… w-we assure you there will be immediate reforms—”

“There had better be,” Kade said quietly from the far end of the table. “Or next time, I’ll let him keep going.”

The principal nearly collapsed.

I stood, signalling the meeting was over. “Ensure your replacements are competent,” I said, glancing briefly at the body cooling on the floor. “And double your security. Triple it, if necessary.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the dean whispered shakily.

We turned to leave, but before we reached the doors, I stopped.

“One more thing,” I said softly.

The principal looked up, eyes wide.

I narrowed mine. “Send me the file of the student who drenched me in the hallway.”

Lucien laughed under his breath.

Kade exhaled slowly, already anticipating trouble.

I simply adjusted my cuffs, feeling the irritation rise again.

That boy—

That insolent, limping, infuriating boy—

had caught my attention.

And I fully intended to deal with him.

One way or another.