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I inhale a steadying breath, allowing the tense silence to stretch out as I regard each of the men arrayed around the common area. Arius lounges on the couch like an indolent lion, arms draped over the backrest while those liquid mercury eyes follow my every movement with an unreadable intensity. Jace fidgets beside Hayes, worrying his plump lower lip between rows of perfect teeth—the nervous tell broadcasting his disquiet loud and clear.

Hayes, for his part, merely arches one dark brow in my direction. A silent acknowledgment that the floor is mine to take the reins, making no notion to pause my momentum as expected. Across the room, Rhys radiates an aura of barely-restrained impatience, fingers drumming a staccato against the armrest of his chair.

Bracing my shoulders, I meet each of their gazes in turn before speaking. “You lot are overlooking the simple fact that Hansley barely knows who Sid even is,” I state in a tone laced with steel, refusing to let any hint of uncertainty creep in. “She may have most people at this godforsaken academy under her thumb, but Sid’s always managed to slip beneath her radar.”

My eyes narrow as Rhys snorts derisively, regarding me with open skepticism. “And just what exactly do you expect the little ginger wildcat to contribute, eh?” he sneers, lips twisting into a mocking sneer. “Going to have her seduce Hansley and pillow-talk the old bint into surrendering the location of her skull-adorned lair while she’s at it?”

I can’t quite stifle the eyeroll his acidic sally provokes, shaking my head in exasperation. “Obviously not that, you daft prick,” I mutter, waving a dismissive hand. “But Sid’s… well, she’s got certain talents that could come in handy right about now.”

A speculative gleam flickers in Hayes’ stormy gaze as realisation seems to dawn, prompting him to bark out a low chuckle that still sends a delicious shiver skittering down my spine despite the tense circumstances. “Actually, that’s not half bad,” he drawls with an admiring slant of those full lips. “Have the little minx seduce one of Hansley’s lapdogs and see if she can’t shake loose some intel while he’s pillow-talking?”

“How positively repulsive,” Rhys scoffs, arching one brow in obvious distaste. “I’d no idea you lot had so little bloody pride as to pimp your mates for information.”

“Oh, get off that moral high horse, you sanctimonious twat,” I instantly volley back, hackles prickling at his derisive tone. “Like you and I both don’t know Sid’s bartered far more than her body for far less than intel that could save all our lives.”

To his credit, Rhys at least has the decency to grimace slightly at my blunt retort—though that doesn’t stop the fucker from sneering in Arius’ direction. “Please do tell me this isn’t the grand fucking scheme you’re pinning all your hopes to, mate,” he snarks with a roll of those jade irises. “Because colour me doubtful your little sexpot mate is up for the task, .”

Heaving an aggrieved sigh, Arius lifts one broad palm in a placating gesture while slanting me a sidelong look. “Why don’t we see if Sid’s amenable to the idea before you two start slagging each other off, yeah?” he rumbles, the rebuke clear despite how carefully he layers the words. “No need for anybody to get ahead of themselves already.”

Hayes clears his throat, gaze bouncing between Arius and Rhys in apparent uncertainty before he finally speaks up. “So I take it it’s business as usual until this all blows over, then?” he drawls, that sensuous mouth curling into a rakish half-grin.

Without hesitation, Arius nods curtly. “We keep our heads down and toe the line,” he confirms, leaning back to brace both arms along the back of the couch. “We don’t want to give Hansley any additional reason to—”

“Oh, give it a fucking rest already!”

Every head in the room swivels sharply in my direction, expressions ranging from abject shock to studied indifference. I roll my eyes, scowling fiercely in Arius’ general vicinity as I cross my arms over my chest.

“Will you stop pussyfooting, Arius?” I growl, frustration lancing through me in scorching waves. “If we have any chance of placating that morally bankrupt harpy in the interim, you need to get off your high horse and go groveling to bloody apologise.”

Arius’ expression remains infuriatingly impassive, not so much as a ghost of reaction flickering across those chiselled features in response to my brazenly insolent demand. He simply holds my heated glare with that eerie sense of tranquility shrouding his every movement like a well-worn mantle.

“I will not,” he states after a weighted pause, each syllable laced with quiet conviction, “apologise for conduct I don’t remotely regret, .” My jaw clenches at the succinct dismissal, fury igniting in my veins like a wildfire gone feral.

Arius’ stoic facade doesn’t waver in the slightest as I unleash a loud scoff. “For fuck’s sake, Whitlocke,” I snarl, all traces of diplomacy fleeing in the wake of my temper flaring into an incendiary blaze. “You need to suck up that over-inflated ego of yours for once in your fucking life! What do you think is going to placate that rancid old cunt more—feigned deference and apology, or stubborn pigheadedness?”

Our gazes remain locked, two opposing forces hellbent on asserting dominance even over this paltry dispute. For several beats, the tension stretches taut between us, every molecule of oxygen feeling weighted and charged with the potentiality for violence.

Then, finally, Arius allows a lethargic blink to disrupt the frozen tableau, broad shoulders rolling in a negligent shrug.

“That wretched bitch doesn’t deserve a single scrap of remorse, ,” he rumbles, every consonant clipped and sharp. “Why should I grovel before her after witnessing the atrocities she’s inflicted upon us all?”

I resist the urge to rake my fingers through my hair, knowing the action would betray far more of the frustration roiling through my veins than I care to broadcast. Instead, I uncross my arms to prop fists against the flare of my hips, pinning Arius with a look of patent exasperation.

“Sweet fucking Christ, we’re not talking about genuine contrition here!” I exclaim, the words nearly exploding in a rush of consonants and sibilants. “Ego and pride are luxuries we can’t afford at the moment, you stubborn fucking mule. Do you seriously think Hansley will think too far past the fact that she’s once again got her little lapdog back in line? Stroke her fucking ego, make the bitch feel good. Whatever the fuck it takes.”

The muscle in Arius’ jaw twitches almost imperceptibly, those quicksilver irises narrowing fractionally as he studies me for several beats. Then, finally, he shifts—leaning forward to brace those thickly-corded forearms against the cradle of his powerful thighs.

“Very well,” he murmurs with a curt dip of his chin, gaze locking with mine. “I’ll extend the expected olive branch. If only to avoid provoking that psychotic crone beyond reason before we can formulate a more permanent solution.”

Bristling at his tone, I open my mouth to volley back a scathing retort—only to be cut off mid-inhale by the creak of the front door swinging inward. Every head swivels expectantly towards the foyer in eerie synchronicity, only for Sid herself to sashay into the living room moments later.

“One hell of a text, Whitlocke. What’s this I hear about needing me to bat my lashes and spread my thighs for the cause, boys?” she trills in that lilting, singsong cadence of hers. Raking her gaze over the assembled group, she cants one hip and props the opposite hand on her waist in a deliciously provocative pose I’m well familiar with. “Don’t tell me you’re all ready to tap out and skedaddle like the pussies Hansley always claimed, hmm?”

As per usual, my friend’s utter lack of any verbal filters prompts an array of reactions from our cohorts—Hayes making a strangled noise of disbelief low in his throat; Arius’ jaw ticking slightly in a clear indication he’s chewing down on one of his infamous acidic rejoinders; Rhys openly leering while Jace averts his emerald gaze with a flush tingeing his fair skin.

Sid, for her part, seems utterly unruffled by the responses her flippant sally evokes. Merely quirking one shapely brow as she stalks towards the window seat I’m perched on, movements fluid and deliberate in a way only she can project with such stunning artlessness. Coming to a stop beside me, she cants her head in an exaggerated display of confusion—one that utterly fails to mask the impish gleam flickering in those mercurial depths.

“What, not a single taker among you lot?” she prompts, swinging one leg up to drape across my lap as she settles onto the cushion beside me. Her fingers toy with the scooped neckline of my camisole as she shoots me a deliberately provocative wink before swiveling to address the rest of the room once more. “Well that’s knackering boring, but I suppose I’ll take pity on you sad saps and do the honours myself if that’s the plan.”

The flash of movement in my periphery catches my eye just in time to see Arius pinch the bridge of his nose, a low growl vibrating in his throat. “Why don’t you let me bring you up to speed before you start bartering your… assets, Sid?” he sighs with obvious reluctance. “Then you can decide whether it’s even worth the bother.”

Sid hums a throaty chuckle in response, shifting to swivel her torso towards me as she cranes one hand up to skim her nails against the side of my neck. “Far as I can tell, everything sounds like a jolly lark worth whatever effort it takes to rile up our erstwhile handlers,” she purrs in that rich, sultry rasp.

Before I can offer up any response—snide or otherwise—the pad of her thumb runs along the seam of my lower lip with deliberate intent, as if coaxing my mouth to part for her. Those mercurial eyes bore into mine with a fervid heat I’m all too familiar with, daring me with every nerve-fraying second to take the blatant bait she’s dangling.

The sharp crack of Arius clearing his throat jolts both of us slightly, Sid visibly swallowing back whatever innuendo she’d been about to utter. Fixing him with a petulant scowl, she huffs out a put-upon breath and extricates herself with obvious reluctance to cross her arms beneath her generous cleavage.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, then get on with it before I pop a tit out right now and start selling the flesh on display,” she groans with blatant exasperation. “Honestly, I don’t know why any of you lot gets your knickers in such twists over a bit of harmless flirting.”

My gaze skates sidelong to catch Hayes rolling his eyes at her melodramatics, though there’s no mistaking the husky edge lacing his tone as he rejoins the conversation. “Nothing harmless about flirtation with you involved, gorgeous,” he rumbles with a disapproving sweep of those hooded eyes that holds no real reproach. “You’re about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the bollocks.”

“Keep sweet-talking me like that and I’ll show you just how subtle I can be with those pretty little stones of yours,” Sid instantly fires back, utterly unperturbed.

The spike of tension in the air seems to dissipate infinitesimally at their thinly-veiled banter, prompting me to recline with a muted huff. Leave it to my utterly unrepentant bestie to find a way to lighten the mood no matter how dire the circumstances, bless her deviant little heart.

“I don’t even want to know what fresh hell you’ve got burbling away in that twisted mind of yours, Sid,” Arius mutters at length, levelling her with a reproving look as he settles further into the cushions. Seems like he’s finally decided to press on with the briefing so we can all get on the same page about this clusterfuck we’ve landed ourselves in.

“The gist is that Hansley suspects something’s afoot with us,” he continues after a weighty pause, pinning us each in turn with that imposing, steel-hued stare. “Which means she’ll likely be upping her surveillance and security protocols to potentially lethal levels the longer she remains suspicious.”

Jace swallows thickly, shoulders tightening defensively as he curls into himself further. The poor little spitfire has been quieter than usual as of late, the strain of constantly being on the defensive clearly taking its toll on those fragile reserves of his. Hayes seems to sense his consort’s escalating unease, reaching over to curl a soothing hand around the delicate line of Jace’s nape and squeezing gently.

“For now, we need to focus on convincing Hansley any suspicions were unfounded and that we’ve returned to being her good little soldiers,” Arius resumes in that same droll cadence, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent of anxiety gripping the rest of us. “Which means maintaining the status quo and toeing the line without any further slip-ups…”

“Oh, like you trying to pull one over on her by getting cosy with the help?” Rhys snorts with unconcealed disdain, pursing those full lips into a petulant moue. “Brilliant fucking strategy that’s going to turn out to be, mate.”

Arius merely arches a brow in that infuriatingly placid way of his, mercilessly steamrolling past the pointed jibe. “Hayes had a point earlier regarding potentially leveraging your…” He pauses to swallow a faint grimace, as if the mere notion tastes of ash on his tongue. “... proclivities to see if you can’t gain some intel on Hansley’s immediate plans for us moving forward.”

My gaze instantly swivels towards Sid, who’s regarding Arius with a pinched expression of affront. “Well don’t get too fucking excited there, handsome,” she drawls, practically dripping with sardonic condescension. “A lady has to have at least some standards about whose cock she’s riding, you know.”

Arius exhales a low, rumbling groan of exasperation, jaw ticking tellingly as he wrestles with some unvoiced retort. The bloke’s notoriously unflappable composure has a tendency to slip whenever Sid’s pushed him too far—though she seems pathologically incapable of recognizing when enough is enough to simply cut her losses.

Sid, however, appears utterly heedless to his rising ire. Sinking back against the pillows beside me, she draws her knee up and tilts her head in an exaggerated display of curiosity. “Certainly hope you had someone particular in mind with that notion, love,” she continues in a honeyed lilt. “Because if not, I might have to have a public audition to pick myself a worthy candidate, if you catch my meaning.”

Hayes chokes out a strangled noise of disbelief, while Jace’s fair cheeks pinken further as he abruptly buries his face against his lover’s shoulder. Arius, meanwhile, merely shakes his head with a weary sigh escaping his lips.

“I’ll have Rhys pull a dossier of viable candidates by morning,” he mutters, scrubbing one meaty palm down his jawline. “We’ll reconvene to determine if any of them will be worth the… effort you’d be required to exert.”

Sid simpers a coy smile in his direction, the picture of kittenish innocence were it not for the banked devilry smouldering in those amber eyes. “Whatever you say, lover,” she coos in a sugary lilt so thick with derision it’s practically saccharine. “I live to obey, don’t you know?”

The shrill trill of a mobile ringing cleaves through the weighted silence before anyone can fire off another salvo. Pulse kicking up a notch, I twist to glimpse the silhouette of Arius’ mobile vibrating against the wood of the arm table, the screen illuminated with an incoming caller I can’t quite make out the details of.

Those mercury irises pin me with a look of grim resignation before he slowly reaches over to accept the call, features settling into a mask of composure. “Go,” Arius rumbles curtly into the receiver after a terse pause, his entire being seeming to tense imperceptibly as whoever is on the other line commences speaking.

The conversation lasts perhaps a minute in its entirety, peppered by terse murmurs of acknowledgement from Arius before he abruptly terminates the call with a jab of his thumb. Settling back into his seat once more, he drags both palms down the carved planes of his features, exhaling a harsh gust of breath that stirs the inky wisps framing his face.

Rhys is the first to break the weighted pause, fixing his old friend with an arched look from across the room. “Not to go guessing where my mates have laid their pipes, but I’m going to take a wild fucking swing in the dark here and assume our esteemed Madame Hansley just issued her verdict?”

Hayes shoots him a quelling look, whisky irises flickering with clear warning before skating back to Arius’ grim countenance. “She expecting you to come kiss the rod and beg forgiveness, then?” he prompts in a lower rumble.

A muscle feathers in Arius’ tightly clenched jaw, those obsidian lashes sweeping down to veil his eyes for several loaded beats. When at last he lifts his gaze once more, some unfathomable emotion glimmers in those steely depths, though his tone remains steady and unruffled.

“More or less,” he grates, a faint crease forming between his brows before smoothing as quickly as it appeared. “I’m to report to the chapel for a disciplinary session in thirty minutes. I tried to convince her it would make more sense to deal with the situation later once I’d had time to…”

He trails off with an indelicate snort, derision curling one side of that harsh mouth into a sneer of distaste. “Well, needless to say, she remains both utterly convinced of her authority over me, as well as unwavering in her methods of meting out punishments.”

“Fucking hell, she’s goading you into another of those savage beat-downs just to stroke her own ego?” Rhys sounds nearly as incensed as he appears, visibly bristling from where he’s slouched indolently in his chair.

Bracing my forearms on my thighs, I duck my head to avoid the sheen of moisture prickling behind my lashes. Of course Hansley insisted on ramping the stakes up impossibly high—likely revelling in the chance to exert her warped vision of dominance over any of us.

“Look, there has to be another way to handle this,” I begin, only for Hayes to cut me off with a low, insolent bark of laughter devoid of any humor.

“Oh, there is, sweetheart,” he scoffs with a bitter curl of those lush lips, the petulant twist only heightening the stark allure of those craggy features. “We could all just bend over like good little puppies and take Hansley’s boot up the arse like she so clearly wants.”

Sid snorts inelegantly at his acerbic analogy, shaking her head. “I, for one, have no intention of allowing that sagging old bat anywhere near my pristine little fuck-hole,” she retorts with a pointed flick of her gaze towards Arius’ stony mask. “But you, darling… Maybe that’s just the shot of protein your luscious mane needs to stop looking quite so limp and dreary, hmm?”

“Sid,” I begin in a strained reprimand, only for the incorrigible minx to barrel over me with another lyrical laugh.

“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a twist, Bri,” she croons, deliberately using the childish nickname I’ve always despised. “I’m only being cheeky with our favourite scowly brute over there. He knows I don’t mean anything untoward by it.”

The sheer audacity of her casual dismissal renders me nearly speechless, jaw working to grind out some scathing response. Not that Arius seems overly perturbed by her flagrant lack of decorum—merely arching a brow in our direction before levering himself upright from the couch with a creaking of sinew and bone.

“With any luck, I’ll be able to ascertain more intel on Hansley’s mindset by the time this session concludes,” he remarks in that same measured, inflectionless rasp. Raven lashes sweep down to shutter his gaze briefly, though not before I glimpse the faintest flicker of… something haunted lurking in those depths. Something that sends a twisting shudder rippling through me despite the muggy heat blanketing the parlour.

“Just…” he hesitates for the most fleeting of beats before squaring those impressive shoulders, jaw ticking with resolve. “Keep doing whatever it takes to get us out of this clusterfuck with minimal casualties, yeah?”

And with that ominous pronouncement, he turns on his heel and stalks towards the far wall to the bedroom—likely to gather whatever effects he deems prudent given Hansley’s barbaric proclivity for “disciplining” her subordinates. The rest of us remain rooted in a shocked tableau of silence, something heavy and immutable settling over the room like a suffocating blanket.

When at last my tongue unsticks itself from the roof of my mouth, a single syllable rasps past lips abruptly parched with dread.

“Christ.”