The vault felt colder after Elliot's message.
Not physically—
but in the way a room feels colder when the truth settles in.
A truth you can't unhear.
A truth you can't run from.
A truth that finds you even in the deepest part of the Academy.
Lucian Frinton knew about me.
Knew about Elliot.
Knew about my scent.
He marked my profile with a royal override.
And now Elliot's last words echoed in my bones:
"He knows your scent."
Horace stood at my side, jaw tight, fists trembling. Everything about him—his stance, his expression, the slight tremor in his breath—made it clear he wasn't only shaken.
He was furious.
Silently furious.
Cassian leaned against a pillar, face pale, still reeling from hearing his brother's voice in the recording.
Chandler rubbed his forehead in frustration, muttering curses under his breath.
Rowan typed something rapidly on his tablet—his usual calm replaced by calculated urgency.
We had barely processed Elliot's message when—
BZZZT.
A loud vibration rippled over every panel in the vault.
Red emergency lights flickered.
Horace's head snapped around.
Rowan froze mid-keystroke.
Cassian straightened instantly.
Chandler cursed. "What now?!"
Rowan checked the panel and paled.
"Oh, wonderful. Brilliant. Perfect timing."
Horace's voice dropped.
"Rowan. Say it."
Rowan met his eyes.
"…a summons."
Chandler blinked. "A what?"
"A royal summons," Rowan repeated, voice low.
My stomach twisted.
Cassian pushed off the pillar, stunned.
"No. That's impossible."
Rowan shook his head.
"It's not impossible. It's here."
Horace stepped forward, jaw set.
"What kind of summons?"
Rowan swallowed.
"A direct summons from the Royal Office to produce every student with unverified scent markers."
Chandler froze.
"You mean—"
Cassian's voice cracked.
"They're coming for her."
Horace's eyes hardened.
Rowan pressed the panel again.
"It gets worse."
"Oh great," Chandler muttered. "Let's hear it. Let's hear how this day gets even worse."
Rowan exhaled.
"The summons is signed by the acting Crown Heir."
The vault felt colder.
Heavier.
Like the walls themselves leaned in.
Horace's jaw clenched.
"…Lucian."
Rowan nodded.
Chandler spat, "That bastard."
Cassian's voice trembled.
"This isn't just a summons. It's an accusation. A trap. They want her in custody."
Horace looked at me urgently.
"Elleanore—we have to leave."
I blinked.
"Leave where?"
"Anywhere but here," Chandler snapped. "Anywhere except where the Royal Office expects us."
Cassian grabbed a nearby panel, scanning the emergency alerts. "The Academy is locking sections. They're sealing off the lower levels—Sentinelle protocols are being activated."
Rowan added, "Meaning they're preparing to perform full scent tests on all students. They're going to find you."
My chest tightened.
Horace reached for my hand—not grabbing, but offering.
"Come with me."
I took his hand without hesitation.
Cassian stepped beside us.
"We need to move through the east maintenance corridor. The summons will be delivered to the Headmaster first. That buys us time."
Chandler frowned. "Not enough time."
"No," Rowan agreed. "But enough to stay one step ahead—if we run now."
Horace nodded once.
"Then we go."
Climbing Out of the Vault
The climb up the long metal stairs felt steeper than before.
Each step echoed with the weight of Elliot's warning.
Each breath carried the fear of Lucian's attention.
Each heartbeat reminded me that this wasn't just an academy anymore.
It was a cage.
A trap Elliot tried to warn me about.
Horace moved ahead, clearing corners with instincts too sharp to be anything but royal training. Chandler stuck close to my left, Cassian to my right, Rowan behind us typing nonstop.
As we reached the service corridor above—
BZZZT.
Cassian froze. "Movement sensors active."
"What kind?" Horace asked.
Rowan checked the feed.
"Prefects. Rotating patrol. They're sweeping for scent anomalies."
Chandler snorted. "Guess who's the walking, talking scent anomaly tonight?"
I forced a breath.
Cassian put a hand on my arm.
"Elleanore. Look at me."
I did.
"You're not alone. Do you understand?"
My voice barely came out.
"I know."
He nodded, jaw tight. "Good."
Rowan pointed to a service hatch. "This way."
A New Threat
We barely made it ten steps into the narrow auxiliary hall before—
THUD.
We all froze.
Horace lifted his hand, signaling silence.
Another thud.
Slow. Heavy.
But too familiar.
My heart stuttered.
Cassian whispered, horrified, "No. No—he shouldn't be out—"
Chandler tensed. "Aiden?"
Before any of us could move—
he stepped into view.
Tall.
Silent.
Eyes unfocused but alert.
Movements controlled yet trembling.
Like a puppet suspended by invisible strings.
Chandler moved in front of me instantly.
"You've got to be kidding me—how is he OUT?!"
Rowan's face drained of color.
"Containment protocols must have been overridden."
Cassian whispered, voice breaking,
"Lucian."
Horace stepped forward, shielding me.
"Aiden. Stand down."
Aiden didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't listen.
But this time—
he didn't lunge either.
Cassian stepped forward, voice trembling.
"Brother… please. Don't do this."
Aiden tilted his head slightly—
like he recognized the word "brother"
but not the person who said it.
Rowan whispered urgently:
"He's not hunting. He's scanning."
Cassian's breath hitched. "Scanning what?"
Rowan swallowed.
"Scent trails."
Chandler cursed. "He's tracking her again."
I held Horace's arm tightly.
Taken.
Hunted.
Found.
Not by Aiden.
Not truly.
But by the hand pulling the strings.
Lucian.
Horace shifted his stance slightly—
protective, steady, unyielding.
"Elleanore," he murmured, "when I say run, you run. Do not look back."
My chest tightened.
"What about you?"
His eyes softened.
"Don't worry about me."
But I did.
I always did.
Cassian met Horace's eyes.
"We draw him off."
Horace shook his head.
"No. We need to get her to the archive wing."
Rowan froze. "Horace. Why the archive wing?"
Horace looked at him meaningfully.
Rowan's eyes widened.
"Oh."
Chandler frowned. "What 'oh'?! Someone explain the 'oh'!"
Cassian grabbed Chandler's sleeve.
"There's a scent-neutralizing chamber in the archive wing. It can hide her."
Horace nodded.
"It's the only place Aiden won't breach."
Chandler threw his hands up.
"Then WHY ARE WE JUST STANDING HERE?!"
Rowan checked the patrol feed. "We have twenty seconds before prefects turn this corner."
Horace grabbed my hand again.
"Elleanore… trust me."
"I do," I whispered.
He exhaled softly—
and for the first time since Elliot's recording,
I saw something in his eyes:
Relief.
Even if it hurt him, even if danger pressed in on all sides—
he trusted my words.
"Good," he said quietly.
Then he turned—
And all hell broke loose.
Run
Horace pushed forward, dragging me with him.
Chandler shoved Cassian ahead.
Rowan sprinted next to me, tablet in hand, fingers flying.
Behind us—
Aiden stepped forward.
Not rushing.
Not sprinting.
Just walking.
But every step felt too close.
Too heavy.
Too wrong.
Cassian shouted, "Left! Go left!"
Chandler yelled back, "Your LEFT or MY LEFT?!"
"THE SAME LEFT, CHANDLER!"
"USE CLEAR LANGUAGE, MAN—!"
Horace snapped, "BOTH OF YOU—MOVE!"
We turned the corner—
And stopped.
Because five prefects stood waiting.
Weapons drawn.
Eyes cold.
Scent scanners glowing blue.
Rowan hissed, "They're here for her."
Horace's voice hardened.
"No they aren't."
Chandler stepped in front of me, cracked his knuckles with his good hand.
"I'll take three."
Cassian replied, "You'll take NONE."
I grabbed Chandler's shirt.
"No fighting. Not now."
But it was too late.
One of the prefects stepped forward.
"Prince Horace," he said stiffly.
"By order of the Crown Heir, all unverified scent signatures must be surrendered for testing."
Horace moved in front of me like a shield.
"She is not going with you."
The prefect's eyes narrowed.
"That is not your decision."
Behind us—
Aiden turned the corner.
Path blocked ahead.
Hunter behind.
Chandler muttered, "We're screwed."
Rowan whispered, "We're not."
Cassian nodded.
"No. We're not."
Horace squeezed my hand.
"Elleanore," he murmured, "get ready."
My heart pounded.
"For what?"
Horace stepped forward—
Back straight.
Jaw set.
Voice cold enough to freeze the hall.
"For me to commit treason."
Line in the Sand
Aiden behind us.
Prefects ahead of us.
There was no way out.
No corridor.
No window.
No hidden passage.
Just a long, suffocating hallway with polished floors that reflected the tension rising like heat.
The prefects stood rigid, hands on their weapons, scanners glowing blue.
And Horace—
Horace stepped forward without hesitation.
He positioned himself between the prefects and me, standing tall with that cold, unmistakable royal confidence.
"This student," Horace said, voice steady but sharp, "is under my protection."
The lead prefect didn't bow.
Didn't blink.
"Your Highness," he said flatly, "the Crown Heir has demanded all unverified scent-bearers to be detained immediately."
Horace's jaw tightened. "She's not unverified."
The prefect glanced over his shoulder.
Then back at Horace.
"Then you will not object to a scan."
Horace didn't move.
Not an inch.
Behind us, Aiden took another step forward—
silent
terrifying
fixated.
Rowan whispered tightly, "Horace, stall them. Ten seconds. I need ten seconds."
Horace didn't acknowledge him—
but a slight shift in his stance told us he heard.
Chandler stepped up, cracking his knuckles.
"Yeah, about that scan—how about you scan my—"
"Chandler."
Cassian grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back.
"Not now."
Chandler muttered, "You never let me have fun."
"It's not fun if you die," Cassian snapped.
Meanwhile, the prefect lifted the scanner.
"If she has nothing to hide—"
Horace moved.
One step.
Just one.
But the prefect stopped speaking immediately.
"You will not scan her," Horace said.
The prefect swallowed. "Your Highness—"
Horace's voice sharpened to a blade.
"That is an order."
The hallway went dead silent.
Everyone stared.
Even Aiden paused—
as if sensing the shift in tone.
The prefect lowered the scanner slightly.
"Prince Horace… the order comes from the acting Crown Heir. We cannot disobey."
"You can," Horace corrected.
"And you will."
The prefect hesitated.
His eyes darted—
toward the scanner,
toward the protocol,
toward the presence behind me.
Aiden.
His hands trembled ever so slightly.
Cassian stepped forward, voice calm but firm.
"Listen to him. If you touch her, you're violating a direct royal instruction."
"We have an instruction from the Crown Heir—"
"And I," Horace cut in, "am also my father's son."
"…Your Highness—"
Horace took another step.
Closer now.
Cold.
Controlled.
Lethally composed.
"You will not touch her."
The lead prefect flinched.
Chandler smirked.
"That's right. Listen to the prince. He's being polite. I'm not."
The prefect took a steadying breath.
"This is a violation of Sentinelle protocol."
Cassian stepped forward quietly.
"No, it's not."
The prefects all turned toward him.
Cassian stood tall, shoulders squared, eyes unflinching.
"You all forget something," Cassian said.
"Valehart blood outranks Sentinelle."
The prefects stiffened.
Chandler blinked.
"What?"
Rowan whispered, "Oh. OH. That's right. Cassian's family holds emergency override authority—"
Cassian nodded once.
"My father authorized it for Aiden's sake years ago. That override still stands."
He turned to the lead prefect.
"I am ordering you," Cassian said calmly, "to step aside."
The prefect opened his mouth to protest—
But Cassian cut him off.
"I am ordering you," he repeated, "as a Valehart and as a witness to Sentinelle misconduct. Move."
This time—
the prefect did flinch.
A slow, unwilling flinch—
but enough.
He stepped back.
A shift in the entire line followed.
Rowan whispered, "Horace. Now. Move her."
Horace grabbed my wrist—not roughly, but urgently.
"Come on."
We started forward—
The prefects parted just enough to let us pass.
Horace shielded me with his body as we moved through them. Chandler kept himself on my left, Cassian on my right, Rowan behind us.
Aiden's footsteps echoed behind us—
step
step
step
But the prefects, seeing him, scrambled into formation—
weapons raised, terrified.
"Aiden Valehart," one warned, voice trembling, "stand down!"
Aiden didn't even look at him.
Instead—
his gaze fixed on me.
I felt it.
Heavy.
Razor-sharp.
Like an invisible hook tugging at my pulse.
"Horace…" I whispered.
He tightened his grip on my wrist.
"I know."
We moved faster.
But Aiden moved too.
Not lunging.
Not running.
Just advancing.
Relentlessly.
Unstoppable.
Rowan shouted quietly behind us, "We need to turn—RIGHT—NOW!"
Horace didn't question him.
He pulled me sharply down a narrow corridor. Chandler pushed Cassian through. Rowan slammed his palm against a security panel—
Access denied.
Rowan swore. "Again—!"
Access denied.
"Aiden is overriding!" Cassian yelled.
Chandler stepped forward.
"Move."
He elbowed Rowan aside and slammed both hands on the panel—
ERROR.
Rowan groaned.
"Wow, that helped."
Chandler kicked the panel.
"It made me feel better!"
Horace looked at Rowan.
"Rowan—how long to force it?"
"Five seconds."
"We don't have five."
Behind us—
Aiden reached the corner.
He didn't sprint.
He didn't shout.
He simply stepped into view—
and my body froze.
His eyes locked on mine.
Focus poured into them like liquid.
Awakening.
Recognition.
Claiming instinct.
Horace stepped in front of me immediately, back rigid, voice low.
"Aiden. Don't."
Aiden inhaled deeply.
And whispered—
"Omega."
My heart stuttered.
Horace moved so fast he blurred—
blocking Aiden's line of sight, arm outstretched, voice vibrating with fury.
"DON'T LOOK AT HER."
Even Aiden paused.
Just slightly.
Rowan's fingers flew.
"I've got it—almost there—"
Aiden moved again.
Forward.
Toward us.
Cassian shouted, "Aiden—NO!"
And for the first time—
Aiden reacted.
Not with violence.
Not with rage.
But with…
confusion.
He tilted his head, eyes flicking toward Cassian.
Recognition flickered
like a dying flame
fighting to stay alive.
"…brother?" Aiden whispered.
Cassian choked on a breath. "Yes. Yes, it's me. It's me, Aiden, look at me—"
Aiden's body wavered.
Trembled.
"Cassian…?"
Cassian stepped toward him helplessly.
Chandler grabbed him. "DON'T—"
Aiden's pupils shrank.
The trigger reactivated.
"Omega," he repeated, head snapping toward me again.
Cassian's heart broke right there in front of us.
"Aiden, please—"
But Rowan shouted:
"NOW! MOVE!"
The door behind us clicked—
and slid open just enough.
Horace shoved me inside. Chandler and Cassian followed. Rowan slipped through last and slammed the emergency lock.
The door sealed with a deep metallic clang.
Aiden hit it a second later—
BOOM.
The entire wall shuddered.
Cassian flinched, tears in his eyes.
Horace grabbed both my shoulders, forcing me to meet his gaze.
"Elleanore—are you hurt?"
I shook my head, breathing hard.
"Good," he said, voice sharp but full of relief.
Chandler leaned against the opposite wall, exhaling shakily.
"That was too damn close."
Rowan wiped his brow.
"I bypassed a prefect-only archive door. That better earn me at least a free lunch later."
Cassian didn't speak.
He stared at the door.
At the place where his brother—
his broken, controlled, weaponized brother—
had slammed his fist.
"Elleanore," Cassian whispered, voice trembling.
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
I touched his arm gently.
"You didn't do this."
He shook his head.
"But he still said your name."
Behind the locked door, Aiden whispered one word again—
"…Omega…"
My chest tightened.
Horace stood behind me and said, with quiet finality:
"This ends tonight."
I looked up at him.
"How?"
His expression hardened—
calm
and deadly.
"We stop playing defense."
Chandler nodded slowly.
"Finally. We attack."
Rowan added, "And we reveal what Lucian did."
Cassian stepped forward, trembling but determined.
"For Elliot."
I closed my eyes for a breath.
Then said softly:
"For Elliot."
When I opened them—
Horace was watching me with something fierce in his gaze.
"Elleanore," he said, voice low, "from this point on… we fight together."
I nodded.
"I'm ready."