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M y eyes slowly drift upward, taking in Hayes’ stern expression as he glances between Arius and the headmistress. That familiar cocky tilt tugs at the corner of his mouth, but there’s an undercurrent of unease rippling beneath the surface that belies his casual demeanour.

Hansley sits ramrod straight in her chair, legs crossed and pert breasts straining against the fabric of her blouse. Not for the first time, my gaze traces the swell of those full tits, imagining how they look freed from their lacy confines. A wolfish grin spreads across my lips unbidden as she clears her throat sharply, hazel eyes shooting daggers in my direction.

Tearing my ogling stare away with a smirk, I glance toward Arius. His attention remains riveted out the arched window behind Hansley’s desk, dark locks falling over his brows in artful disarray. Even from here, I can see the rigid set of his shoulders, coiled tight like a serpent ready to strike.

Clearing my throat, I decide to be the one to break the stifling silence. “So it’ll just be the four of us participating in this… Hunt, then?” The words roll off my tongue with practised nonchalance, but I can’t quite disguise the undercurrent of unease that laces the query.

Those sculpted brows rise as Hansley pins me with a withering stare. “Unfortunately.” She snorts, one hand idly smoothing the fabric draped over her thighs. “But there will be changes. We won’t be releasing Sentinels to track your progress. You’ll each be outfitted with cameras to record the… festivities.”

Hazel eyes narrow to piercing slits as her leer sweeps over the four of us. “Still, I expect it’ll make for a vigorous… exertion. One might even say an… epic ballad of debauchery destined to be recounted for generations, hm?”

My gaze cuts toward Arius at that jab. He hasn’t so much as twitched a muscle since his last statement, focusing that dead stare straight ahead as if Hansley doesn’t even register on his radar anymore. Just vacant oblivion stretching beyond the arched windows framed by gauzy curtains swaying in the morning breeze.

“So,” Hansley continues in a tone like grinding gravel, “I want everything to be ready by this weekend. No shirking responsibilities or benders indulging in inebriated frivolities, understood? You reprobates have one singular priority occupying your attention for the next several days.”

I can’t quite stifle the derisive snort bubbling up my throat at her stern proclamation. Of course the gargoyle would decree a moratorium on any potential enjoyment preceding this lurid bit of… what did she term it? An ‘epic ballad of debauchery’? Sounds like a bloody riot.

Apparently my amusement doesn’t go unnoticed. Hansley’s eyes slit, glaring daggers in my direction until I simply shrug and quirk one brow, all feigned innocence. She harrumphs, no doubt preparing to launch into a scathing diatribe when the scrape of Oxfords against polished hardwood cuts through the tension.

It’s Arius rising in one sinuous movement, all coiled energy and arrogant poise as he clasps both hands behind his back and regards Hansley with a detached mask of aristocratic disinterest. “If that will be all,” he murmurs in a bored drawl, “I’ve matters requiring my attention elsewhere. Good day, Headmistress.”

Then without awaiting dismissal, he pivots on his heel and strides for the exit. My stare tracks his retreat until Rhys clears his throat, the rustle of pages indicating he’s closing that dusty old tome reverently. A second later, his rangy frame unfolds to tower at his full imposing height as he makes to follow in Arius’ wake.

Hayes is next, shoving himself off the loveseat with a grunt and ambling after the other two without so much as a backwards glance at Hansley or myself. I wait a beat, then another, letting the tension stretch as far as it can go before I finally lever myself out of the cushions to trail after my mates with a muttered curse.

Slipping through the heavy oak door, I catch sight of the group disappearing around the corner at the far end of the corridor. Lengthening my stride, I manage to match their purposeful gait a handful of seconds later as I fall in behind Hayes and Rhys.

“Everything alright there, mate?” I can’t resist prodding, tilting my head to better study his profile as we trudge along in silence, my hands sliding into my pockets. Arius’ jaw twitches almost imperceptibly, but he keeps those eyes locked straight ahead.

“Is there something you require, ?” His tone is clipped, each syllable bitten off with exaggerated precision as we continue our march.

I shake my head with a rueful chuckle. “Nah, not really.” I shrug one shoulder in a show of nonchalance that somehow feels performative. “Just couldn’t help noticing how tense you seemed back there. Something under that posh skin of yours?”

For a handful of beats, Arius doesn’t react beyond the muscle jumping erratically along his chiselled jawline. Then finally, with an audible sigh, his shoulders slump incrementally as he tosses me a sidelong glance.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, gaze skittering away just as quickly. “Doesn’t bloody matter, so leave it.”

I snort, loudly and without decorum. “That’s rich, mate,” I fire back without missing a beat. “Since when do you ever let something go that easily? You’ve been a right prickly bastard all year—don’t give me that shite.”

Arius doesn’t respond, just keeps that steady, ground-eating cadence toward… well, wherever the fuck we’re headed. Growing irritated by his continued evasiveness, I reach out to grasp his bicep, halting our forward momentum. He staggers slightly, head whipping around with eyes blazing mutinous fury as the others stall behind us.

“The fuck?” Arius snarls, raking me with a scathing glare that would flay flesh from bone if he wielded the power. I level my own look of stubborn impassivity to counter him.

“Don’t be a git,” I retort without rancour, squeezing his arm before releasing it and taking a step back, palms raised in a placating gesture. “We’re all mates here, yeah? No need to get your knickers in a twist.”

A sharp bark of laughter punctures the taut moment from behind where Hayes slouches with that trademark smirk of sardonic amusement already curving his lips. “As entertaining as this lover’s spat is to witness,” he rumbles in that deep burr of his, “maybe you two could throttle back the foreplay until our resident daddy here has his big-boy trousers properly adjusted?”

Arius’ eyes narrow to icy slits even as they harden to impenetrable walls of obsidian, nostrils flaring with each sharp exhalation. Squaring his shoulders to his full impressive height, he cuts his razor focus between Hayes and me in turn.

“Do you wretched ingrates having anything more pressing on your pathetic agendas beyond worrying over my bloody inner thoughts?” he sneers, words emerging in a vicious hiss. “Or should I procure a fainting couch for you delicate flowers?”

The thinly veiled jab hits its mark, planting a scowl on my features as I shake my head. “Not fair, that,” I counter, jabbing an accusing finger in Arius’ direction. “We’re only looking out for you because—”

“Because you’re under the mistaken impression you’re entitled to meddle in matters that don’t fucking concern you!” Arius growls, cutting me off as he takes a step closer, body practically thrumming with outraged indignation now. “Since when do you lot grant each other such free rein to—?”

I don’t let him finish that thought. Snarling, I lunge forward to clamp both hands around those chiselled biceps, planting myself directly in Arius’ face as his chest heaves with every aggravated breath. “Don’t be a prick,” I hiss between gritted teeth, putting every ounce of intensity and warning I can muster behind the words.

Arius blinks once, twice… then his expression settles into a mask of unmitigated wrath. His hand lashes out to seize me by the shoulder, preparing to shove me aside as his lips peel back over gritted teeth in a feral display of—

Only he doesn’t get the chance to carry through with whatever brutish action that was building. One second, his rage-contorted features are mere inches from mine, the next an arm clotheslines him in the throat. Arius staggers back, hands flying to his windpipe as he chokes and gags in shock.

It’s Hayes, standing over him with that towering physique poised at the ready, jaw clenched and eyes glinting like polished flint. “Get one bloody thing straight, Whitlocke,” he growls, the words rolling off his tongue like venom-laced smoke, “you try putting your fucking hands on —on any of us—and I’ll make damn sure you’re stripped of your titles and barred from this wretched academy before you can blink.”

He takes a menacing half-step closer, looming over Arius’ doubled-over form like an avenging deity dispensing judgement. “So I suggest you find some of that legendary Whitlocke calm and discipline real fucking quick, understand me?”

The tension stretches out with excruciating sluggishness as Arius gasps and wheezes, nodding jerkily at Hayes’ threat as his thunderous expression shutters closed once more. Finally, after several protracted heartbeats, the wanker manages to straighten upright—though not fully, not meeting any of our gazes head-on.

Just a petulant prick resorting to surly mannerisms and aloof arrogance to disguise whatever internal tempest rages beneath that polished veneer he insists on maintaining.