The tower room stayed quiet long enough for all of us to hear the pounding of our own hearts.
No alarms.
No footsteps.
No Aiden tearing at the reinforced doors.
Just silence.
And Horace's words hanging in the air like a blade suspended by a single strand:
"You are mine to protect."
I barely breathed.
Cassian stared.
Chandler's jaw clenched.
Rowan muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, Great, this is happening now.
But no one interrupted.
Horace didn't look away from me.
Not even for a moment.
"Elleanore," he said softly, "I need you to listen."
My heart thudded painfully. "I'm listening."
"Your scent—what you carry—it's not something that can exist unclaimed."
My stomach twisted.
"I don't understand."
Chandler pushed forward immediately, voice sharp.
"Oh, I understand. He means someone's going to try to CLAIM you—"
Horace didn't flinch.
"Yes."
The room fell utterly still.
"No," Chandler snapped, pointing at Horace. "You don't get to drop a bomb like that. Start explaining. Now."
Rowan rolled his eyes. "Chandler, he is explaining. And unfortunately, he's right."
"How is he right?!" Chandler barked. "She's not a prize—she's a person!"
Horace's gaze flicked to Chandler.
"You think I don't know that?"
Chandler opened his mouth—then shut it.
Cassian finally spoke, voice softer but strained.
"There's a reason royal lines rarely risk Omegas with dormant scents."
Rowan nodded. "Because when those scents activate, they don't just attract interest. They attract ownership."
My throat tightened.
"And," Rowan added, "they attract hunters."
A chill ran down my spine.
Horace took a slow breath and stepped closer—not too close, not enough to overwhelm, but enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him.
"Elleanore… listen to me very carefully."
I lifted my eyes to his.
"You don't need to choose anything right now," Horace said gently. "But until we figure out who's behind Sentinelle—until Aiden is contained—until the Academy is no longer a weapon—someone needs to be your shield."
"You mean a claim," Rowan said bluntly.
Chandler snapped his head toward Rowan. "Shut UP—!"
But Rowan held up a hand.
"It doesn't have to be romantic," he said. "There are political claims. Strategic ones. Temporary ones. The kind that—"
Cassian cut in, voice tight.
"—the kind that protect Omegas who shouldn't exist."
Horace's voice dropped lower.
"Exactly."
I swallowed hard. "You're saying… if I don't choose someone, someone else will choose for me."
Horace nodded once.
Slow.
Painfully slow.
"Yes."
A cold wave washed over me.
Chandler's fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.
"Like hell she's going to be claimed like a possession—!"
Rowan sighed. "Chandler. That's literally what they want."
Cassian's voice dropped to a whisper.
"That's why Elliot ran."
My heart cracked.
I wrapped my arms around myself without realizing it.
Horace stepped closer, voice gentle.
"Elleanore, look at me."
I did.
"The only thing that matters right now," he said, "is keeping you alive."
His voice didn't shake.
But something in his eyes did.
Chandler looked away sharply.
Cassian lowered his head.
Rowan stood still—quiet for once.
Horace continued.
"You're not making a vow. You're not binding yourself. You're not surrendering anything. I would never ask that of you."
He inhaled deeply.
"But if the Academy thinks you're unprotected—if they think you're available—then they will use you. They will own you. They will disappear you like they did Elliot."
My body went cold.
Horace waited a beat, then said:
"So until this ends—until we fix what they did to Elliot—until we stop Aiden—let me shield you."
His voice was almost a whisper.
"Let me protect you, Elleanore."
Cassian Takes the Floor
Before I could respond, Cassian pushed himself up from the floor.
Still bruised.
Still bleeding.
But standing.
"No," Cassian said quietly.
Horace turned sharply toward him.
"Cassian—"
"No." Cassian took a step forward, voice steadying. "If anyone should protect her—it's me."
Chandler rolled his eyes. "Oh, this is GREAT—"
But Cassian didn't look away from Horace.
"You're a prince," Cassian said. "A public figure. Every move you make is tracked. Watched. Questioned. If you suddenly claim an Omega—especially her—everyone will know."
Rowan nodded reluctantly.
"He's right, Horace. Your claim would trigger political panic."
Cassian continued.
"And that puts Elleanore in more danger, not less."
Horace's jaw tightened. "I can handle political backlash."
"You can't handle the Council," Cassian snapped. "Or the Royal Office. Or the Research Division. They will demand to inspect her, interrogate her, monitor her—Horace, they'll take her out of your protection entirely."
Horace stiffened.
"And you know it."
A beat of silence.
Then Rowan exhaled.
"…Cassian isn't wrong."
Chandler crossed his arms. "Okay, so Cassian wants to claim her?"
Cassian flinched. "No—"
"Do YOU want to claim her?" Chandler pressed, eyes narrowing.
Cassian swallowed, gaze flicking to me—quick, pained, guilty.
But he shook his head.
"No," Cassian said. "She shouldn't be tied to someone whose own brother tried to tear her apart."
The words cut deeper than anything tonight.
Chandler softened—just slightly. "Cassian…"
Cassian looked at me then—really looked—his eyes full of anguish.
"I can't protect you the way he can," Cassian whispered. "But I can help you stay hidden."
"Hidden?" I repeated.
Cassian nodded.
"My family's scent vaults," he said. "I can get you temporary masking blends. Ones that override your natural markers. Ones even Aiden won't recognize."
Rowan blinked. "You'd break into your family's vault for her?"
Cassian's voice cracked.
"I would break everything left of my life if it keeps her safe."
My breath caught.
Chandler looked away quickly—like he didn't want anyone to see the emotion in his face.
Horace ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily.
"You're asking me to step back," Horace said quietly.
Cassian shook his head. "I'm asking you not to sacrifice your entire kingdom for one girl."
Horace's eyes hardened.
"I would."
Cassian whispered, "We know."
Chandler's Stand
Chandler pushed off the wall, wincing at the pain in his ribs.
"You're all idiots," he muttered.
Rowan rolled his eyes. "Here we go."
Chandler walked straight to me.
Stopped only inches away.
"Elleanore," he said, voice firm. "I know I'm not royalty. I know I'm not a prefect. I know I don't have some fancy political safety blanket."
Cassian snorted. "Frankly, you're a menace—"
"Shut up, I'm having a moment," Chandler snapped before turning back to me.
His voice softened.
"I don't have power," Chandler said quietly. "But I have fists. A loud mouth. Fight instincts. And I don't run from people like Aiden."
He held my gaze.
"And I'm not leaving you. Not tonight. Not ever."
Something inside me twisted painfully.
Because Chandler wasn't saying he wanted to claim me.
He wasn't saying he wanted ownership.
He was saying he wasn't going anywhere.
Rowan gave a small, reluctant smile. "Of everyone here… Chandler is statistically the most likely to throw his body between you and danger."
Chandler pointed at him. "Damn right."
Horace pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is not a competition—"
Rowan raised a brow. "Isn't it?"
Horace shot him a deadly look.
Cassian exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "There's no clean answer. But we can't force her into a claim."
Rowan nodded. "The political consequences alone would be catastrophic."
Chandler looked at me, eyes softening. "You don't have to decide now. Just… don't do anything alone."
Horace stepped forward again.
"Elleanore," he said softly, "I meant what I said. I will protect you. With or without a claim. With or without permission."
My breath tightened.
Cassian lowered his head. "I'll get the scent masks."
Rowan nodded. "And I'll find out where Julieta's orders came from."
Chandler stepped beside me. "And I'll be your guard dog."
Horace shot him a glare. "Absolutely not."
Chandler glared back. "Fight me."
Cassian sighed. "Please don't fight."
Rowan muttered, "I'm taking bets if you do."
But slowly—
like a thread weaving through chaos—
I felt something steady settle inside me.
Not certainty.
Not confidence.
But resolve.
"I'm not choosing any claim," I said quietly.
The room went still.
Horace's eyes darkened—not with anger, but with respect.
Cassian nodded once. "Good."
Chandler smirked softly. "That's our girl."
Rowan closed his tablet. "Then we keep her hidden."
Cassian added, "And we bring down Sentinelle."
Horace stepped closer—just enough that his voice reached only me.
"Elleanore," he murmured, "if you change your mind… I'll be here."
My breath trembled.
I whispered back:
"I know."
And for the first time since this nightmare began, I realized—
I wasn't alone.
Not anymore.
Not ever again.
The Scent Vaults
The tower was safe—
but not safe enough.
Not with Julieta still out there.
Not with Aiden able to break commands.
Not with the Academy sealing off corridors and scanning for me.
Cassian wiped the dried blood from his cheek and pushed himself to his feet.
"We need to go," he said quietly.
Horace's brows lowered. "Where?"
Cassian's jaw worked for a moment.
Then he said the words that made everyone tense:
"My family's vaults."
Rowan exhaled sharply. "Oh wow. We're really doing this."
Chandler scowled at Cassian. "Your family—the same family tied to the Academy's security? The same people who helped create Aiden's condition? The same—"
"Yes." Cassian cut him off.
His eyes flicked to mine.
"And the same place where Elliot went before he disappeared."
My heart dropped.
Horace stiffened, voice sharper.
"You're sure?"
Cassian nodded once, slowly.
"Elliot left traces in the vault corridor. My family cleaned most of it, but… not all."
Rowan muttered, "Of course they didn't. Cover-ups are messy."
Chandler pointed at him. "You are enjoying this way too much."
"I'm coping," Rowan replied.
Horace turned to me.
"Elleanore," he said softly, "you don't have to do this."
But there was no part of me that hesitated.
"Elliot was there," I said. "Then I'm going."
Horace looked at me for a long moment—
as if weighing whether he should argue.
He didn't.
Instead, he gave a single nod.
"We move quietly," he said. "And no matter what happens—you stay between us."
Chandler stepped forward, pointing at himself. "Preferably between ME."
Cassian glared. "Absolutely not."
Rowan sighed. "I'm surrounded by children."
Horace opened the tower door, checking the hallway before ushering us out.
"We go now," he said. "Before the Academy realizes the tower's override was manual."
The Path to the Vaults
The hallways were eerily silent.
Late-night lights glowed weakly.
No prefects.
No students.
No alarms.
Too quiet.
Chandler leaned close to me as we walked.
"You okay?" he whispered.
"I'm trying to be."
"Try slower," he muttered. "You're not a machine."
Cassian walked ahead, navigating the maze-like side corridors effortlessly.
"I memorized every blind spot when Aiden started deteriorating," Cassian said quietly. "I had to."
Rowan raised a brow. "To protect him?"
Cassian didn't answer.
Horace stepped closer to me. "If at any moment you feel unsafe, you tell me."
"I will," I said.
But would I?
Tonight proved I ran toward danger when searching for answers.
We descended two flights of stairs, turned into a dimly lit auxiliary hall, then another—one that smelled faintly like old paper and sterilizing agents.
Chandler wrinkled his nose. "Ugh. What is that smell?"
Rowan sniffed. "Scent neutralizer. Industrial-grade. They use it for controlled testing rooms."
Cassian's shoulders tensed.
"This way."
The hallway narrowed until it led to an unmarked steel wall.
Cassian placed his palm on a square panel that lit up blue.
A layered voice spoke in a cold, metallic tone:
"Valehart bloodline identified.
Access level: Tier Three."
The steel wall slid open with a heavy hiss.
Inside—
A long staircase descended into darkness.
Chandler groaned. "Love that. Fantastic. Creepy stairs again."
Horace motioned for me to walk between him and Chandler.
"Stay close," he murmured.
Cassian led us downward into the dimly glowing chamber beneath.
The vault was enormous.
Ceiling tall
pillars supporting the structure
soft lights illuminating rows upon rows of labeled compartments.
Not money.
Not jewelry.
Scent vials.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Each in cold storage.
Opaque bottles.
Sealed capsules.
Vials with names I didn't recognize.
"Omega-kept archives," Rowan murmured with awe. "A scent library."
"It's more than that," Cassian said. "This vault catalogs unstable and rare scent types. Mutations. Carriers. Dormant profiles."
Horace's jaw tightened. "Illegal."
Cassian didn't deny it.
Chandler walked to a compartment and froze.
"You keep SCENT SAMPLES? From STUDENTS?"
Cassian swallowed.
"Yes."
Chandler rounded on him. "How could you hide this?!"
Cassian's voice cracked.
"I didn't know Elliot's was here until after he vanished."
My breath stuttered.
"Elliot…?" I whispered.
Cassian nodded.
"He wasn't supposed to be cataloged. But someone logged his scent signature without my father's approval."
Horace's eyes sharpened.
"Who?"
Cassian's expression darkened.
"I don't know."
Chandler muttered, "Julieta."
But Rowan shook his head.
"Look at the logs."
Cassian stepped to a console and typed rapidly. The screen flickered.
A list appeared:
Profile 017-B — Elliot J. Fonze
Logged by: A. Valehart
Code Clearance: Sentinelle
Cassian's breath caught.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no—Aiden didn't do this. He would never—"
Rowan stepped closer.
"Cassian."
Cassian shook his head violently.
"He wouldn't! He wouldn't have logged Elliot unless—unless someone forced him—unless—"
Horace put a hand on Cassian's shoulder.
"Cassian. Breathe."
Cassian clenched his jaw so hard it trembled.
"He registered Elliot for tracking. My brother registered Elliot as prey."
I stepped forward.
"Cassian," I said softly.
His breath hitched.
"I'm sorry," he whispered—voice breaking. "I'm so sorry—I tried to protect him—I thought I was protecting him—"
"You didn't know," I said quietly.
Rowan sighed. "The question is why. Why Elliot? Why now? Why your brother? Why log him at all?"
Cassian rubbed his face, voice hollow.
"Because Elliot smelled like Elleanore."
That sentence pierced the room.
Horace turned sharply toward me.
"Your scent signature… it's more than rare. It's a genetic anomaly."
Rowan nodded.
"Compatible with the reigning royal bloodline—and also with carrier anomalies like the Valehart line."
Cassian added quietly,
"Anyone who shares it stands out. Elliot shared enough markers to be flagged as a false target."
My stomach twisted.
"So… they used him to find me."
Cassian closed his eyes.
"I'm so sorry."
Chandler slammed a fist against the nearest pillar.
"You didn't do this, Cassian! Sentinelle did!"
Rowan nodded.
"Aiden was manipulated. So was Elliot. But there's more."
Horace looked sharply at Rowan.
"What did you find?"
Rowan tapped the screen.
Another entry popped up beneath Elliot's.
Profile 017-C — Elleanore Fonze
Logged by:
UNKNOWN. Unauthorized access. Error in code: ROYAL OVERRIDE.
The room fell silent.
Horace inhaled sharply.
"Royal override?"
Rowan nodded grimly.
"It means someone in the royal line—or someone high enough to imitate them—logged her scent."
Cassian whispered, "Why?"
Rowan stared at me.
"Elleanore… your scent wasn't hidden from the Academy."
My blood went cold.
Rowan continued:
"It was flagged."
Chandler pushed off the wall.
"You're saying someone wanted her found."
Rowan nodded.
"By Aiden."
Horace stepped between me and the console, protective instinct flaring so sharply it nearly drowned the room.
"Name," he said.
His voice wasn't a question.
It was a command.
Rowan typed.
The screen flickered again.
A corrupted name appeared—
letters scrambled, partially erased.
But enough remained.
Enough to ruin the air.
FR—T—N
(Royal Office Access)
Cassian froze.
Chandler stopped breathing.
Horace stared.
No.
Not stared.
Went absolutely still.
Because the incomplete name on the screen—
Looked awfully close to:
Frinton.
Horace Isaac Frinton.
His own family.
His own bloodline.
His own crest.
Logged my scent.
I felt the world tilt.
And the last thing I saw before my vision blurred was Horace—
Eyes wide.
Face pale.
Expression breaking.
As if something inside him had shattered.