Horace stood in the corridor like he had dragged himself back from death just to reach me.
Hospital gown.
Half-bandaged.
Blood at the corner of his mouth.
One arm pressed against the wall to keep from collapsing.
But his eyes—
sharp
furious
burning—
were locked on the guards approaching me.
"Touch her," he repeated quietly,
"and I'll kill you."
The officers froze.
Even the medics froze.
The advisor—Ronen Hale—turned slowly to him, expression unreadable.
"Prince Horace," he said calmly,
"You should be in surgery."
Horace didn't blink.
"She's not going anywhere with you."
Ronen offered a measured exhale, the kind powerful men use when they're growing impatient.
"She is not being punished. She is being placed under supervision to—"
"Don't lie."
Horace straightened with a hiss of pain but didn't back down.
"You're isolating her."
"Necessary preventive action," Ronen corrected.
"Her scent output destabilized. She cannot remain among other students until it is controlled."
Cassian, shaking, stepped between them.
"Her output destabilized because she saved us. Because she controlled a Sigma-class unit. Because she kept us from dying.
And now you want to punish her for it?!"
The advisor didn't look at Cassian.
But Cassian didn't drop it.
"Aiden is in critical condition. Rowan's bleeding. Chandler almost died. Horace nearly got crushed trying to carry her out.
We're all alive because of her.
And you want to take her away from everyone who cares about her?"
Ronen glanced at him once.
"Your emotions are irrelevant."
Cassian's fists shook.
"I'm not talking about emotions—I'm talking about what's right—"
"Cassian," A medic interrupted gently,
"We need to treat him. Please."
Cassian looked back toward where Aiden had been wheeled away. His heart visibly broke.
But he still didn't back away from Elleanore's side.
Not even a step.
HORACE TAKES A STAND
Horace pushed himself upright.
Barely.
He was swaying.
But he stood directly between me and the guards.
"Elleanore stays with me."
"Prince Horace," Ronen said patiently,
"This is not your decision."
"Yes. It is."
"You are injured, emotional, and not in your right mind."
Horace's voice stayed low—but it hit with the weight of a threat.
"You think I don't know what the Crown Wing does?"
A flicker of something crossed the advisor's face.
Not shame.
Recognition.
Rowan flinched so hard he nearly fell backward—but Chandler caught him.
Ronen clasped his hands behind his back.
"Elleanore's containment is for her own protection. Her scent spikes show instability—"
"She's an Omega," Horace said sharply.
"Omegas spike under trauma.
And in case you didn't notice—
she's been fighting for her life all night."
"She is showing signs of uncontrolled evolution," Ronen replied.
"That is grounds for immediate isolation—"
Chandler stepped forward, shaking,
"STOP CALLING IT ISOLATION—CALL IT WHAT IT IS—IMPRISONMENT!"
Rowan grabbed his sleeve.
"Chandler—please—don't do this—"
"No," Chandler said, voice firm despite the tremor.
"Not this time.
I'm not letting him talk like that in front of her."
Ronen's eyes turned cold.
"You two need to know your place."
Rowan's breath hitched.
"No—no—no—
don't talk to us like—
don't—"
Chandler pulled Rowan behind him instantly.
"Don't look at him," he whispered.
"Don't listen to him."
Rowan pressed his face into Chandler's shoulder, trembling.
Ronen raised an eyebrow at the display.
Horace growled,
"You are not taking ANY of them."
"You do not have the authority to interfere," Ronen said coolly.
Horace took a shaky step forward.
"I'm not interfering as a prince."
He looked Ronen dead in the eye.
"I'm interfering as her bonded Alpha."
The hallway went silent.
Every medic.
Every guard.
Chandler.
Rowan.
Cassian.
Me.
Ronen let the words hang.
"Prince Horace," he said slowly,
"you have not established a scent bond—"
"It's forming," Horace said simply.
"Slowly. Naturally. It's there."
My cheeks flushed with heat.
My chest tightened.
The guards shifted uncertainly.
Ronen's expression stayed blank.
"A forming bond does not change Crown protocol."
Horace stepped closer, ignoring the pain in his ribs.
"It changes everything."
Ronen's gaze hardened.
"You are not yet the Crown. The decision is not yours."
Horace's voice dropped one octave lower.
"Call my father then."
Ronen blinked.
"You forget yourself."
"No," Horace said,
"I know exactly what I'm doing."
He leaned forward, scent flaring despite his injury.
"If you take her without my consent,
I will consider it an act against the heir."
Gasps echoed across the corridor.
Rowan's eyes went wide in horror.
Chandler looked like he was about to faint.
Cassian straightened as his instinct flared.
And Ronen finally broke composure.
"You dare threaten—"
"Yes," Horace cut in.
"I dare."
His voice dropped into something colder.
"You've crossed a line.
She is under my protection.
Not yours."
Ronen exhaled slowly.
"This is not a matter of protection—"
Horace stepped forward, nearly collapsing but holding his stance.
"It is.
And I'll show you why."
He turned
—toward me.
His voice softened instantly.
"Elleanore," he murmured,
"come here."
I froze.
His voice wasn't commanding.
It wasn't controlling.
It wasn't ordering.
It was asking.
Softly.
Carefully.
As if he was terrified I'd say no.
My feet moved before I could stop myself.
I stepped into him—
his hand settling gently around my wrist.
A calm, protective heat radiated from him.
Even injured, even shaking—
his scent wrapped around me like a shield.
The guards stiffened.
Ronen's eyes widened.
Horace lifted our joined hands.
"Look," he said quietly.
"She stabilizes around me."
The hallway fell silent.
Even I realized it—
My scent spike
my tremor
the ache in my chest
everything that had spiraled—
settled
instantly
the moment he touched me.
And everyone saw it.
Chandler whispered,
"…Holy shit."
Rowan's eyes softened.
"I knew it…"
Cassian whispered through tears,
"She's calmer… because of him…"
Ronen's jaw tightened.
"Prince Horace—
this does not override the Crown decree—"
Horace stepped between me and the advisor completely.
"She's not going anywhere with you."
Ronen's voice turned icy.
"And if the Crown commands it?"
Horace didn't blink.
"Then the Crown can try to take her from me."
The hospital fell entirely silent.
Ronen inhaled slowly, face like carved stone—
"Very well."
He signaled the guards.
"Stand down.
For now."
Horace didn't move until the guards stepped back three full paces.
Ronen rolled the scroll closed.
"But understand this, Prince Horace:
The Crown is not finished.
There will be consequences for your defiance."
Horace held his ground.
"And I'll face all of them."
Ronen's gaze slid to me.
"Be ready.
The Crown Wing will call for you again."
He turned and left with the guards.
THE SHATTERED QUIET AFTER
As soon as Ronen disappeared around the corner—
Horace collapsed to his knees.
"HORACE—!" I grabbed him.
He winced, breath hitching.
"You're… okay… right?"
I cupped his face.
"Don't worry about me—YOU are the one falling apart—"
He shook his head hard.
"No.
As long as you're here…
I'm fine."
His eyes softened, and for a moment something raw flickered across his expression—
fear
relief
love
and something deeper.
Chandler whispered loudly,
"OH MY GOD he actually said that OUT LOUD—"
Rowan elbowed him.
"Shh—this is serious—"
Cassian wiped tears from his face.
"Guys… Aiden… I need to get back to him…"
Rowan nodded weakly.
"Chandler, go with him—
Cassian shouldn't be alone right now."
Chandler hesitated, looking at me—
I nodded.
So he and Rowan stepped away toward Aiden's room.
Leaving me and Horace in the center of the corridor.
Horace's breathing steadied as I held him.
"Elleanore…" he whispered, voice trembling,
"I thought they were taking you from me."
I swallowed.
"But you stopped them."
He leaned into my touch, eyes closing for one long, heavy moment.
"I'll always stop them," he murmured.
"No matter who stands in the way."
My heart surged painfully in my chest.
Not instinct.
Not panic.
Something warm.
Strong.
Terrifying.
I whispered back:
"Horace…
I'm not going anywhere."
His eyes opened slowly.
I had never seen him look at me like that.
Like I was home.
Like he'd break the world before losing me.
He lifted his hand and brushed my cheek with his thumb.
"Elleanore…"
But before he could say anything else—
A medic rushed toward us.
"Prince Horace—your injuries are worsening—please, you need to come—now—!"
Horace exhaled shakily and leaned into me.
"Promise me one thing," he whispered.
"Anything."
"Don't go anywhere without me."
I squeezed his hand.
"I won't."
Medics lifted him gently.
Horace didn't look away until they wheeled him through the double doors.
His eyes stayed locked on mine until he disappeared inside.
The Room With No Locks
The hospital wing at night didn't feel like part of the Academy at all.
Cold lights.
White curtains.
Echoes instead of voices.
Machines instead of students.
And behind every quiet corner, a shadow shaped like the Crown Wing.
A medic guided me down a hall of private rooms, her voice gentle but distant.
"You're not being detained," she said softly.
"Just supervised until your scent output stabilizes."
Supervised.
It felt like a prettier word for contained.
I didn't argue.
I didn't have the energy.
My legs were still shaking.
My chest ached.
The room spun whenever I moved too fast.
What I wanted—
desperately—
was to go to Horace.
But the medic stopped outside a room with a glass window.
"Here," she said.
"We've adjusted the environment to calm your systems."
She opened the door.
And at first, I thought it was empty.
Then I saw it on the bed:
A soft, pale blue scent patch with a familiar crest—
The Royal Family's insignia.
My breath caught.
The medic's expression softened.
"Prince Horace asked for this before he was taken to surgery. He couldn't risk your scent destabilizing again."
I stepped closer.
The patch pulsed faintly, releasing a subtle, soothing scent—
not Horace's full scent
but a regulated imprint of it.
Warm.
Steady.
Grounding.
I didn't even need to touch it—just being near it eased the tremor in my chest.
The medic continued quietly:
"Your systems respond well to him.
His presence stabilizes you more than any suppressant."
I swallowed hard.
Horace.
He didn't even know if he would make it through surgery—
but he made sure I wouldn't panic while he was gone.
"Will I be allowed to see him?" I whispered.
"After he wakes," she said.
"But for now… you need rest."
Rest felt impossible.
But the scent patch worked.
My heartbeat slowed.
My senses calmed.
My lungs stopped burning.
The medic added,
"There is no lock on this door. You can leave if anything worsens. But please—don't wander far.
Not tonight."
I nodded, exhausted.
She left, closing the door softly behind her.
I sank onto the bed, clutching the scent patch in my hands.
It warmed against my palms—
and tears I didn't expect stung behind my eyes.
"Horace…" I whispered.
Why did his scent feel like the only thing keeping me steady?
Why did it feel like the only safe thing in the entire Academy?
CASSIAN BREAKS
A sudden cry echoed down the hallway—
A raw, shattered, terrified sound.
"Aiden—AIDEN—PLEASE—wake up—wake up—"
Cassian.
I pushed the blanket off and stumbled into the hallway.
Medics rushed past me.
I followed the voices until I reached Aiden's room.
The door was open.
Inside—
Aiden lay on the bed, hooked to an IV, eyes half-open but unfocused.
His face was pale, lips dry.
He was gasping as though struggling against invisible restraints.
Cassian was kneeling at the bedside, gripping Aiden's hand with both of his.
"Please—look at me—look at me—Aiden—please—"
Aiden blinked slowly, then flinched at the lights.
"Cass… it's… too bright…"
Cassian sobbed in relief and lowered the lights himself.
"There—better? Is that better?"
Aiden nodded faintly.
"Mhm…"
A medic tried to adjust Aiden's vitals.
"Student Cassian, we need space—"
Cassian didn't move.
"No.
I'm staying.
I'm not leaving him—
don't ask me to."
The medic frowned.
"You're interfering with the equipment—"
"I don't care!" Cassian's voice cracked violently.
"I'm not letting him wake up alone ever again—"
Aiden squeezed Cassian's hand weakly, voice small:
"Cass…
don't… cry…"
Cassian lunged forward and hugged him, burying his face into Aiden's shoulder.
"I thought I lost you.
I thought—
I can't—
I CAN'T lose you—"
Aiden's fingers curled around the fabric of Cassian's shirt, trembling.
"…I'm here."
Something in my chest ached watching them.
Especially because—
Aiden's eyes shifted toward me.
And for a split second, something flickered in them.
Recognition.
Not of me.
Of my scent.
The lingering hint connecting us.
A spark of fear moved through him—
not fear of me,
but fear of what he remembered.
Cassian noticed immediately.
Aiden stiffened.
Cassian held him tighter.
"Oh," Cassian whispered, voice breaking all over again.
"You're remembering… aren't you?"
Aiden didn't speak.
His fingers trembled in Cassian's.
Cassian leaned in gently.
"It wasn't her fault," he whispered.
"Elleanore didn't hurt you.
She never would."
Aiden swallowed, voice faint.
"I… know.
I think I know…"
His eyes met mine.
"…but something did."
A chill ran down my spine.
Cassian's hand tightened around Aiden's.
"We'll figure it out.
Together.
We're not letting anyone hurt you again."
Aiden closed his eyes, leaning into Cassian's touch.
And Cassian kissed his forehead—
soft
gentle
desperate
as though it was the only thing keeping him sane.
The medic finally stepped back.
"You may stay," she murmured.
"He reacts better with you here."
Cassian let out a shaky, relieved breath.
Aiden's eyes stayed half-open, sleepy and fragile.
He whispered:
"Cass… don't… go…"
Cassian rested his forehead against Aiden's.
"I'm not going anywhere."
I slipped away quietly.
This moment was theirs.
ROWAN'S PANIC
In another wing, I found Chandler pacing outside a door, his hands running through his hair.
"Chandler?"
He jumped at my voice.
"Elleanore—hey—uh—Rowan's—he's having a panic episode."
Panic?
"From the collapse?" I asked.
Chandler shook his head quickly.
"No.
The Advisor.
The uniform.
The voice."
He glanced at the door.
"He shut down the second he saw Ronen Hale.
It's worse now."
My heart twisted.
"Can I help?"
Chandler shook his head.
"He doesn't want anyone but—"
Chandler's voice softened.
"…me."
Inside the room, Rowan's voice cracked through the door:
"Chandler?
Are you still here?"
Chandler opened the door a crack.
"I'm right here," he said gently.
"I'm not going anywhere."
I caught a glimpse—
Rowan curled on the bed, knees to his chest, one hand clutching the sheets.
He looked nothing like the Rowan we knew.
He looked like a child hiding from a monster.
Chandler went to him immediately.
Rowan reached out blindly until his fingers found Chandler's sleeve.
"Don't… let them take me," Rowan whispered.
"Please don't let them take me again."
"Again…?" I murmured.
Chandler looked over his shoulder—
eyes full of something I'd never seen in him: protective rage.
"Elleanore," he whispered,
"He was in the Crown Wing before."
My breath caught.
"He's terrified it's happening again."
Rowan buried his face into Chandler's chest, shaking.
Chandler held him tightly.
"I've got you.
I'm right here.
No one is taking you anywhere."
Rowan's voice cracked:
"Promise?"
Chandler kissed the top of his head.
"I promise."
I stepped back.
This was a moment not meant to be interrupted.
RETURNING TO MY ROOM
When I returned to my room, the scent patch still lay on the bed, warm and calming.
Horace's scent.
I held it to my chest.
The warmth eased something deep in my instincts.
My limbs stopped trembling.
My breath steadied.
It felt like being pulled into safe arms.
Like home.
I sank into the bed, letting exhaustion weigh me down.
But before sleep could catch me—
the lights flickered.
A shadow moved by the window.
Footsteps approached.
I sat up quickly, heart racing.
A figure stood in the doorway—
one hand raised to quiet the guards outside.
"My apologies for the intrusion."
Lucian stepped inside slowly.
Calm.
Unarmed.
Expression unreadable in the dim light.
Not threatening.
Not smug.
Something else.
He looked at the scent patch in my hands.
His voice softened.
"I came to talk."
My heart pounded.
"Why?" I whispered.
He stepped closer, stopping several feet away—as if he didn't want to provoke my unstable scent again.
"Because tonight… something changed," he said quietly.
He studied me in a way that didn't feel predatory—
for the first time, it felt almost—
careful.
"Everyone in this Academy wants something from you," he murmured.
"The Crown.
The Council.
The machines.
Even the students.
And now Horace, too."
He met my eyes.
"But I want an answer."
I swallowed.
"What answer?"
Lucian's expression shifted—
something raw, honest, and deeply surprising flickered through his eyes.
"Elleanore," he whispered,
"What are you becoming?"
The lights flickered again.
And the room suddenly felt too small.
Too quiet.
Too dangerous.
Especially when Lucian added—
"I think the Sigma unit wasn't malfunctioning."
His voice lowered to a tremor.
"I think it recognized its rightful source."
My breath stopped.
The room felt like it tilted.
And Lucian stepped closer.
"Elleanore Fonze," he said softly.
"What exactly are you?"