It began without warning.
Not with touch.
Not with voice.
Not even with proximity.
It began with anger.
And it was not hers.
Elara was halfway through her morning lecture when the first tremor struck.
A flicker beneath her ribs.
Sharp.
Hot.
She paused mid-sentence.
The chalk slipped slightly between her fingers.
"…as I was saying—"
The heat intensified.
Not embarrassment.
Not panic.
Fury.
Raw. Controlled. Suppressed so tightly it felt like iron bending inward.
Her breath hitched.
What the hell—
She pressed her palm lightly to her sternum.
The emotion surged again.
Not feminine.
Not hers.
Ancient. Male. Restrained.
Alessandro.
Across campus, in the lower training hall, Alessandro felt it too.
A ripple that did not originate in his body.
A flicker of disorientation.
Soft.
Startled.
Elara.
He stilled mid-command.
The enforcer before him faltered. "Sir?"
"Again," Alessandro said evenly.
But the fury beneath his skin was not directed at the trainee.
