Darkness hummed with dying electricity.
The resonance chamber—
that cold, clinical torture device masquerading as a "test"—
was silent now.
No pulsing light.
No vibrating floor.
No artificial pheromone induction.
Just the faint crackle of broken circuitry
and the taste of metal on my tongue.
Somewhere above me, sparks crackled and fizzled out.
I lay on the cold floor.
Breathing.
Shaking.
Alive.
The floor still vibrated faintly with the echoes of the frequency collapse—
like the last heartbeat of a dying machine.
My body felt distant.
Too heavy.
Too light.
Too warm in places and too cold in others.
My pulse thudded weakly in my throat.
And the silence—
the absence of the resonance frequency—
felt thick enough to swallow me whole.
But then—
A sound cut through the dark.
A voice.
Raw.
Ragged.
Infuriated.
"ELLEANORE—!"
The door to the chamber shuddered under a massive impact.
A second slam followed—
metal denting so deeply it echoed through my bones.
Chandler.
His voice was hoarse, feral.
"OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!"
Horace's voice came next, trembling with panic and fury he couldn't hide.
"Move—MOVE—let me see her—"
Rowan was sobbing somewhere beyond the door.
"Elle—Elle, please—please answer us—"
Lucian's voice rose sharply.
"Someone override the lock! NOW!"
A Councilor shouted something unintelligible behind them.
Another voice cried out:
"She's unresponsive—open it—open it—!"
Then—
BOOM.
The door's reinforced deadbolt snapped with a deafening crack.
Chandler roared and threw his shoulder into the metal again.
The frame groaned—
buckled—
splintered under brute force.
Horace dug his fingers into the gap and hauled the door open with all his strength.
Rowan squeezed through before it even widened.
And suddenly—
they were all inside.
THE BOYS FIND ME
Rowan reached me first.
He collapsed to his knees so fast they skidded on the metal floor.
"Elle—Elle, please—come on—"
His hands shook violently as he lifted my head into his lap.
His voice broke.
"Don't not breathe—don't—don't do this—"
I winced, a small sound escaping.
Rowan choked.
"She's awake—! She's… she's waking—"
Horace fell beside me a heartbeat later—
but he didn't touch me at first.
His hands hovered.
Terrified.
Shaking.
"Elleanore."
His whisper was a plea and a warning and a prayer.
"I'm here. I'm right here."
His fingers brushed my cheek—
barely—
as if afraid I would shatter at the slightest pressure.
I leaned into the touch.
He inhaled sharply.
"Stars—thank the stars—"
Then Chandler came crashing in behind them, expression wild.
He dropped to a crouch, his breathing ragged.
He looked at me—
really looked—
and the fury melted from his face.
"What did they do to you?"
His voice cracked.
His hands clenched into fists so hard his knuckles went white.
"I swear—Hale is dead. I'm killing him. I'm tearing him apart—"
Lucian barged through the doorway next, panting.
His eyes scanned the damage—
then found me.
He froze.
Slowly, he walked forward.
Kneeling beside Horace, Rowan, and Chandler,
he touched my wrist gently—
checking my pulse.
His relief was microscopic—
but real.
"She stabilized herself," he murmured.
"In a bond-induction protocol.
Alone."
Horace grit his teeth.
"They nearly killed her."
Rowan sobbed harder.
Chandler leaned closer, voice low.
"Elle… say something. Anything."
I parted my lips.
"…I'm… okay."
Rowan broke down, forehead pressing to my shoulder.
Horace exhaled like a dying man revived.
Chandler bowed his head, shoulders shaking.
Lucian whispered:
"No, you're not okay. But you're alive. And that's enough."
OUTSIDE THE CHAMBER: PURE PANIC
Councilors were shouting outside the room.
"Remove her from the Academy immediately—"
"No, this was mishandled—"
"We need safety protocols—"
"Where is Hale?! He authorized this—"
"Find him—someone FIND him—!"
Lucian's head snapped up.
"Hale's gone?"
A guard stuttered.
"He left the second the chamber failed—he's not in the facility—"
Lucian's expression shifted.
Sharp.
Focused.
Cold.
"He ran."
Horace snarled.
"Coward."
Chandler punched the broken door frame, teeth bared.
"I'm hunting him down."
Rowan clutched me tighter.
"Don't leave her—don't leave her—"
Horace cupped my face, voice shaking.
"Chandler—stay. She needs all of us here."
Chandler's jaw worked—
but when I reached toward him weakly,
his entire expression crumbled.
"…okay. Okay. I'm staying."
Rowan wiped his face with his sleeve.
Lucian spoke quietly.
"We take her out now. Slowly. Carefully."
Horace nodded.
"Rowan, support her right side."
Rowan immediately steadied my shoulder.
"Got her."
"Chandler—left side."
Chandler slid an arm under me without hesitation.
"I've got her."
Horace lifted my head gently.
"I'll guide."
Lucian stepped forward.
"And I'll clear the hallway."
He turned toward the door—
and found six councilors staring, pale as paper.
He glared at them.
"Move."
They did.
Instantly.
THE WALK OUT OF THE CHAMBER
They helped me stand.
My legs trembled.
Rowan was at my shoulder in a heartbeat.
"I've got you, don't worry."
Chandler steadied my other side.
Horace pressed his palm to my forehead, grounding me.
Lucian cleared a wide path through the corridor, barking orders.
Councilors stepped aside.
Guards froze.
Staff pressed to the walls.
Everyone stared.
At me.
At them.
At the collapsed resonance chamber.
At the fact that I was walking out of it—
alive.
Horace guided each step.
"Lean on me."
Rowan kept whispering:
"You're doing great, Elle… you're doing great…"
Chandler muttered under his breath:
"If you fall, I'm carrying you."
Lucian kept pace, scanning every corner.
We reached the elevator.
I swayed.
Horace caught me instantly.
Rowan clutched my hand.
Chandler steadied my back.
Lucian pressed the elevator button.
When the doors opened,
everyone stepped inside with me—
and no one else dared follow.
IN THE ELEVATOR
Silence.
Not cold silence.
Heavy silence.
Breathing silence.
Emotion pressed into a tiny metal box.
Rowan held my hand with both of his.
Chandler stood rigidly behind me, arms braced so I couldn't fall.
Horace kept one hand at my cheek, thumb brushing lightly under my eye.
Lucian watched all three of them with an unreadable expression.
Then he spoke softly.
"She survived something no Omega should have."
Rowan inhaled shakily.
"Because she's not normal."
Chandler snorted quietly.
"Understatement of the year."
Horace's voice was soft.
"No. She's exceptional."
Lucian's eyes softened for the briefest moment.
"Yes," he murmured.
"She is."
The elevator chimed.
The doors opened.
And the world outside changed.
THE NEWS SPREADS
Students flooded the hallway.
Staff.
Guards.
Observers.
All staring.
At us.
At me.
At the three boys flanking me like protective sentinels.
Someone whispered:
"That's the Omega from the chamber—
she survived—"
Another gasped.
"Frinton looks like he's about to kill someone—"
"She's with all three of them—?"
"Someone summoned the headmaster!"
"Is Hale still missing—?!"
Lucian muttered:
"Wonderful. Now it's going to be a school-wide incident."
Chandler muttered back:
"I'll make it a massacre if Hale shows his face."
Rowan clung tighter.
"Let's just get her somewhere safe—please—"
Horace glanced at me.
"We're taking you to the royal dormitory."
My breath caught.
That wasn't a suggestion.
It was a declaration.
A vow.
Rowan nodded fiercely.
"She's not going anywhere else."
Chandler grunted agreement.
Lucian sighed.
"Well.
At least it's secure."
I leaned into Horace's side.
He caught me instantly.
Rowan's eyes widened.
Chandler's expression softened.
And Lucian said, voice calm but firm:
"Let's move."
The Quiet After the Collapse
The walk to the royal dormitory felt unreal.
Not because of the crowd—
not because of the whispers—
not because every hallway parted around us like a tide—
but because of the weight of three hands holding me upright.
Rowan's fingers laced tightly with mine.
Chandler's arm braced my back with steady strength.
Horace walked a pace ahead, checking every corner, every guard, every shadow.
Lucian flanked the group like an armed strategist in a suit.
Each step felt too heavy and too light at once.
My body trembled from the aftermath of the chamber,
but my legs somehow moved.
Rowan whispered constantly.
"You're okay… you're okay… I'm right here…"
Chandler murmured rough reassurances under his breath.
Horace looked like he hadn't taken a real breath since he found me on the floor.
Lucian's scanning eyes missed nothing.
We passed through the high archway leading into the royal wing.
The guards recognized the Crown Prince and bowed so fast their helmets nearly slipped.
"Your Highness—!"
Horace ignored them.
"Open the dormitory doors."
"Yes sir!"
The doors unlocked with a heavy metallic click.
Chandler pushed them open.
And for the first time since the chamber collapsed,
I felt warm air brush my skin.
THE ROYAL DORMITORY
I had seen the royal dormitory from the outside before—
the towering windows, the private balcony, the elegant crest of the royal family etched in gold.
But inside…
Inside was quiet.
Warm.
Safe.
The moment we stepped in, two royal attendants gasped and knelt.
"Your Highness, we were informed of an emergency—"
"We need the medical suite prepped," Horace said without hesitation.
"Now."
The attendants scrambled instantly.
Rowan guided me toward the room while Chandler supported the other side.
I felt unsteady.
I felt lightheaded.
But I didn't feel alone.
The dormitory was larger than my entire childhood home—
a private living area, a glass-walled study, a balcony that overlooked the Academy grounds.
But the room they brought me into was something else entirely:
A private medical suite, fully sterilized, fully equipped, clearly meant for the royal heir in case of emergencies.
Monitors blinked to life the moment we entered.
Horace's voice clipped out sharp orders.
"Prepare a vitals check. No injections unless approved by Lucian."
Rowan didn't let go of my hand even as a medical assistant helped me onto the bed.
Chandler took position near the doorway, arms crossed tightly over his chest.
Lucian moved directly to the tablet console connected to the medical bed, eyes narrowed.
Two medics rushed over.
"Miss Fonze, can you hear us?"
I nodded weakly.
Rowan whispered:
"She's conscious—she woke in the chamber—she's just exhausted—"
Chandler added, voice rough:
"Check for neurological strain. And respiratory strain. And—everything. Check everything."
The medic blinked.
"Uh—yes, we'll run a full scan—"
They moved efficiently,
but not nearly fast enough for the boys' liking.
Horace hovered at the head of the bed, hands clenched.
Rowan stood on my right, stroking my knuckles with trembling fingers.
Chandler paced like a caged predator.
Lucian…
Lucian stared at the medical scan results with increasing rage.
It was Lucian who spoke first.
"…they overclocked the damn frequency."
Horace froze.
Rowan looked horrified.
Chandler swore loudly.
The medic swallowed.
"What does that mean?"
Lucian turned the screen toward us.
Lines of data scrolled down—
my pheromonal output, stress response, neural strain.
Highlighted in red:
ILLEGAL INDUCTION FREQUENCY DETECTED
SABOTAGE CONFIRMED
CORRUPTED TEST PARAMETERS
EXTERNAL MANUAL OVERRIDE LOGGED
SOURCE: UNKNOWN USER — LEVEL 7 CLEARANCE
Rowan's voice cracked.
"Level… level 7? But that's—"
Horace pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, eyes darkening.
"Royal access."
Chandler slammed his fist into the wall.
"Who besides the Council even has that clearance?!"
Lucian lowered the screen.
"Hale."
Rowan shook his head.
"But—impossible—only the Crown Prince and the Headmaster have Level 7 in the student testing wing—"
Horace exhaled slowly.
"As the Crown Prince, I didn't authorize anything."
Rowan choked.
"Then the only other person—"
Lucian's jaw clenched.
"Is the Headmaster."
A silence spread through the room like a slow-growing frost.
The medic glanced nervously between us.
But the one who reacted—
was Rowan.
He stumbled back a little, eyes wide.
"The Headmaster wouldn't—he couldn't—he's the one who protects the Academy—he—"
Horace put a hand on Rowan's shoulder.
"We don't know yet."
Chandler snarled.
"Oh, we know. There's no other explanation."
Lucian rubbed his temples.
"Hale had Level 7 permissions for the test wing today.
Someone granted them.
And the only person who can grant Level 7 to someone else—
is the Headmaster."
The room felt colder.
Rowan looked between all of us helplessly.
"But… why? Why would the Headmaster want to hurt Elle?"
The question hung in the air.
Heavy.
Ugly.
Too big.
Lucian tapped the screen again.
"I don't know. But someone wanted her unstable. Someone wanted her gone."
Horace's voice dropped dangerously low.
"And I will find out who."
THE MEDICAL EVALUATION
The medics finished their tests.
They spoke carefully, quietly, aware of the tension suffocating the room.
"Miss Fonze… your readings are unusual, but stable."
Rowan squeezed my hand tightly.
I leaned my head toward him.
The medic continued:
"Your neural stress markers are extremely high, but there's no permanent damage."
Horace's shoulders sagged in relief.
Chandler's pacing slowed.
The medic hesitated.
"But your pheromone output… it's—"
Lucian finished for him.
"Evolving."
The medic blinked.
"Er… yes, actually. Remarkably so."
Horace leaned down and brushed a lock of hair from my forehead.
"You're safe now."
Rowan nodded fiercely.
"You're with us."
Chandler crossed his arms and added quietly:
"No one is touching you again."
Lucian shut down the console.
"We need answers. Immediately."
He turned toward the hallway.
But just as he reached the door—
a new voice echoed through the dormitory.
Deep.
Smooth.
Authority-coiled.
"Answers," the voice said,
"are exactly what I came here for."
Horace stiffened.
Chandler straightened.
Rowan froze.
Lucian turned slowly.
The medics bowed instinctively.
And I—
I felt my breath catch in my throat.
Standing in the doorway—
wearing the crisp black-and-silver coat of high authority—
was the Headmaster.
Headmaster Caliban Stride.
The man whose face appeared on Academy brochures.
The man who welcomed us during orientation.
The man whose office controlled every disciplinary action, every scholarship, every student record.
His grey eyes swept across the scene:
Horace beside my bed.
Rowan gripping my hand.
Chandler guarding the door.
Lucian holding the medical console.
His expression was unreadable.
Then his gaze settled on me.
And his mouth curved into something
cold
and foreign
and deeply wrong.
"Miss Fonze," he said softly.
"I heard you survived."
Horace stepped between us in an instant.
Rowan's grip tightened around my hand.
Chandler moved to block his path.
Lucian's voice dropped to a lethal whisper.
"…what are you doing here, Headmaster?"
But I—
I looked into those grey eyes.
And something deep in my bones whispered:
I've seen those eyes before.
Not here.
Not at the Academy.
Somewhere darker.
Somewhere older.
Somewhere tied to my brother.
The Headmaster smiled.
And it wasn't kind.