Page 5 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

"Nowhere important. Just...processing."

His gaze sees too much, stripping away pretenses with the same efficiency he once dispatched Darius and his entire coven.

"Liar," he says softly. "But I'll let it slide. For now."

Before I can respond, movement catches my eye.

Figures emerge from the cavern entrance – other students, I realize, dressed in the same Year Two uniform. They move with the cautious confidence of predators in unfamiliar territory, eyeing one another with guarded assessment.

Competition has already begun.

"Looks like we're not the first to arrive," Atticus observes, his posture shifting subtly. To a casual observer, he appears relaxed, maybe even bored. I know better. He's coiling, readying himself for whatever might come.

The approaching students number seven in total – a perfect match for the prophecy's "seven will rise" line. I search their faces, looking for familiar features, for any hint of my former bond mates.

Neither Cassius nor Nikolai appears among them, but a familiar face makes my blood run cold.

Damien.

The vampire prince who doused me in urine now strolls toward us, his crimson eyes widening slightly as he registers our presence.

Specifically, Atticus' presence.

"Well, well," Damien drawls, his gaze flicking between us with calculated interest. "Look who finally decided to join the party. The hybrid. And..." He pauses, studying Atticus with narrowed eyes. "Don't believe we've met."

"We haven't," Atticus confirms, his tone pleasant enough to send warning bells ringing. I recognize that voice – it's the sameone he used right before tearing Darius's coven apart member by member. "But I've heard so much about you."

Damien's smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"All good things, I hope."

"Quite the contrary," Atticus responds, his thumb still tracing patterns across my knuckles, the gesture more possessive now. "Though I suppose fame and infamy often walk hand in hand."

Something in his tone makes Damien pause, the vampire prince's instincts clearly warning him that the casual-looking man before him is anything but harmless.

Good. Let him feel uncertain for once.

"You're on the hybrid's team?" Damien asks, his gaze dropping to our joined hands with undisguised distaste.

"The hybrid has a name," I interject, finding my voice. Gabriel's voice, lower and rougher than my natural tone. "Or did that urine damage your mental faculties along with your fashion sense?"

Atticus doesn't laugh, but I feel the slight shake of his shoulders that indicates suppressed amusement. The other students hang back, watching our exchange with the wary attention of vultures assessing potential carrion.

Damien's eyes narrow dangerously.

"You've grown bold since acquiring a new...friend." His gaze lingers on Atticus. "Though I wonder how long that will last once your other friends discover your betrayal."

"Betrayal?" I echo, letting genuine confusion color my tone.How did I betray anyone when they sat down and watched me become Wicked Academy’s laughing stock the last three fucking days."I believe betrayal requires loyalty to begin with. Something distinctly absent when someone stood by watching me get publicly humiliated."

My words hit their mark.

Damien's composure slips for just a moment, revealing something almost like guilt before his aristocratic mask falls back into place.

"Points come at a price," he says dismissively. "Some of us understand the game better than others."

"And some of us," Atticus interjects smoothly, "understand that games have consequences beyond the scoreboard."

The temperature seems to drop despite the surrounding lava fields.

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