Chapter 27 in Dexter's POV:
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I didn't knock.
The door slammed against the wall as I walked into the headmaster's office, the wood groaning like it knew what was coming. He looked up from his desk, papers scattered like bones, and for a second—just a second—I saw it. The flicker of fear before the mask slid back into place.
"Mr. Vaughn," he said smoothly, like he hadn't just jumped out of his skin. "To what do I owe this—"
"Save it." My voice was sharp enough to draw blood. I crossed the room in three strides, boots hitting the marble like war drums. "This isn't a meeting. It's a warning."
He straightened in his chair, fingers curling over the arms like a man trying to hold onto dignity. "Excuse me?"
"Scarlet," I said. Just her name. It hung there like the taste of iron. "She's off limits. No rules. No trials. No punishments. No one touches her."
His brows lifted, but the twitch in his jaw betrayed him. "And if she breaks academy law?"
I leaned forward, planting my hands on his desk so hard the wood groaned. My reflection stared back from the polished surface—eyes sharp, aura bleeding through like black smoke.
"There is no law for her," I said softly. Deadly. "She doesn't answer to this school. She doesn't answer to you. She answers to us. You so much as look like you're thinking about disciplining her, and I swear, I will tear down every ward in this academy until the walls bleed."
The headmaster swallowed. His pulse was a drumbeat against the silence. "You're threatening me," he said, voice steady—but his scent reeked of fear.
I smiled. Slow. Cold. "No, Headmaster. I'm promising you."
For a long moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the wards in the walls. Then—he broke. Just like that. His shoulders eased, his gaze dropped for a fraction of a second. Submission disguised as strategy.
"You have my word," he said finally, voice quieter than before. "The girl will remain… untouched."
Something in his tone made me pause. It wasn't defiance. It wasn't surrender, either. It was resignation. Like a man who'd already read the ending of a story and hated it.
"Good," I said, straightening. "Because if anyone lays a hand on her, I won't stop at breaking bones. I'll break bloodlines."
I turned to leave, and his voice followed me, softer this time, almost like a prayer he didn't mean for me to hear:
"She was never ours to command."
I stopped. Just for a second. My hand hovered on the doorframe, tension curling in my gut like a serpent. But I didn't turn around. I didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing the questions clawing at me.
Instead, I walked out, slamming the door so hard the wards shivered.
And for the first time in a long time, I wasn't smirking.
Because if the headmaster was scared enough to fold this fast… then maybe my visions weren't warnings.
Maybe they were countdowns.
I didn't walk through the hallways were everyone would see me, not because I didn't want to scare anyone with my present countenance.
But because I needed air.
I couldn't breathe, the walls were closing in—thick with prophecy, thick with the headmaster's words replaying like a broken tape,
"She was never ours to command".
The hell did that mean? What else did they know that we didn't?
My boots hit the stone path like gunshots as I cut through the courtyard. The school was quieter than usual—probably because it was close to curfew—but the whispers never stopped. Scarlet's name traveled like smoke. My jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
And then—because the universe clearly hated me—someone decided now was the perfect time to get in my way.
"Dex."
I didn't have to look to know the voice. Sweet as poison and just as sharp. Cassandra Vale. Alpha-born. Pretty enough to make wars start. Dangerous enough to start them herself. And one of my mistakes from last semester.
I kept walking.
"Don't ignore me." Her heels clicked behind me, matching my pace. "You think you can just toss me aside because of her?"
I stopped. Slowly.
Not because of her words—but because something inside me snapped at the mention of Scarlet. That name, in her mouth, felt like contamination.
I turned my head, just enough to let her see my eyes. Her breath hitched. Good.
"Say that again," I said quietly.
Her lips curled. She thought this was a game. "What? Her? Scarlet Stormborne? The freak in crimson who—"
That was as far as she got.
The shadows hit before she could blink.
They surged from the cobblestones like black mist, thick and alive, coiling up her legs, snaring her arms, and then wrapping tight around her throat. She gasped, nails clawing at nothing as the magic pinned her in place.
Her heels scraped against stone. Her pulse thundered in my ears.
I closed the distance slowly, like a predator who wasn't in a hurry to kill—because the kill wasn't the point. It was the fear. The lesson.
"You talk too much," I murmured, watching the way her eyes widened as the shadows constricted. "You think I'm the same boy who kissed you behind the greenhouse? You think I'm still playing?"
Her face turned red. Veins bulged. The sound of her choking was music and static, bleeding into the edge of my Sight until all I saw was crimson—the color of prophecy, of fire, of her.
Scarlet. Scarlet. Scarlet.
"She isn't yours to speak about," I said, voice dropping into something lethal. "She isn't yours to judge. She isn't yours to touch. She isn't—" My magic tightened, cutting off her scream. "—yours."
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of her fear. It should've disgusted me. It didn't. It made something in me calm.
I stepped closer, my breath brushing her ear as the shadows pulsed with every word.
"You want to know what happens to people who forget their place?" I whispered. "They vanish. Just like this."
I tugged the shadows tighter for one heartbeat—just one—and then released.
She crumpled to the ground, coughing, clutching her throat, mascara running down her cheeks in black rivers. Her perfect voice was broken now, reduced to ragged gasps.
I crouched in front of her, tilting her chin up with one gloved finger. My smile was razor-thin, carved from ice.
"This is me being merciful," I said softly. "Next time you say her name, you don't breathe again. Got it?"
She nodded frantically, eyes glassy with terror.
"Good girl." I patted her cheek like a pet, stood, and walked away without looking back.
The night air bit at my skin as the shadows slithered back into me like smoke sucked into a vacuum. My hands were shaking—not from guilt, but from the itch in my veins, the static that came every time I thought about her.
Scarlet Stormborne wasn't just breaking the school. She was breaking me.
I cut through the courtyard with hastened steps
The halls were empty when I slipped back inside the west wing, but my head wasn't.
Visions clawed like broken glass behind my eyes, flashes that didn't belong to now. The future was a strobe light—too fast, too loud, too sharp. Crimson. Stone. Screams pressed between my temples like iron nails.
I dragged a hand through my hair and forced my feet toward the den.
The suite door loomed ahead, sleek black with wards humming low like a warning. I ignored them and shoved it open.
The air inside was warm, threaded with fire and smoke and Devon's faint scent of herbs. The others weren't here—thank whatever gods were still listening.
But before I could even take another step, the vision hit.
Not a flicker this time. A full-blown strike.
Scarlet.
On the ground.
Blood streaked down her arms like war paint. Her crimson uniform shredded, clinging in strips. Her breath—ragged. Her claws—half-shifted. Her eyes—God, those eyes. Wolf gold burning through blindness.
And over her?
Damian.
Fire curling at his fists. His teeth bared in something feral. His face carved with rage.
The sound—bone snapping. Hers.
And then—darkness.
I slammed back into reality with a gasp, clutching the doorframe so hard the wood splintered. My chest heaved. My pulse was a snarl in my ears.
"Damian," I whispered.
The suite was silent. But the vision's echo wasn't.
And for the first time since this game began, I wondered if I was too late to change the ending.