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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ISOLDE

William's sudden reappearance stops me mid-step.

“Where the fuck did you go?” I snarl, stalking towards him. My rage is a living thing, clawing at my insides. “You just left me here!”

William doesn’t flinch from my fury. If anything, his eyes darken with something like appreciation as he watches me approach. “Blackridge,” he says simply. “I needed answers.”

“And you couldn’t wait five fucking minutes?” I demand, stopping inches from him. “You couldn’t say, ‘Hey Isolde, thanks for the resurrection and the hot as hell fuck, be right back after I sort something out’?”

Behind me, I sense CJ and Cassiel watching warily, ready to intervene if needed. The air between William and me crackles with tension and power.

“I’m sorry,” William says, the words seeming to surprise him. “The need for revenge outweighed everything else.”

My anger doesn’t abate, but curiosity tempers it slightly. “Revenge?”

He nods slowly.

“What did you do?” CJ asks, moving closer.

“Got my arse kicked. But it was worth it,” he says with a slow smile.

“Was it?” I ask, fists clenching. “Was it? Because you are about to get it kicked from here to next week!” I advance on him, claws extended. He grabs my wrist as I take a swipe at him. His physical strength is enough to stop me.

“Not so fast, tiger,” he purrs, setting my arousal pinging again. “As much as I want to witness you kicking my arse, we have bigger problems to deal with.”

“Like what?” CJ asks. “I kind of want to see her kick your ass.”

“The Collectors,” William says, his grip on my wrist loosening but not releasing completely. “According to Blackridge, they probably felt the power surge from my semi-resurrection. They’re coming for us.”

I wrench my arm free, my anger momentarily sidelined by this new threat. “When?”

“Days, at most.”

Cassiel’s wings rustle behind me. “That was the timeline we were already working on. But that time is running out. Did Blackridge say anything else?”

William’s eyes flick to him, then back to me. “He wants us to work together to destroy them. Apparently, that’s been his plan all along, to create the perfect weapons against The Collectors.”

“Us,” I repeat flatly. “As in you and me?”

“The matching set,” William confirms with a sardonic twist of his lips. “King and Queen of Blood.”

CJ makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a growl. “And you believe him?”

“I believe he’s ancient and powerful beyond anything I’ve encountered, which is saying something,” William says. “And I believe The Collectors are coming. Beyond that...” He shrugs. “Trust isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

“No shit,” I mutter, still furious but forcing myself to think past it. “So, what now? We just wait for them to show up and hope for the best?”

“Now,” William says, his eyes gleaming with renewed purpose, “I teach you how to use your power properly. No more accidents, no more instinctive reactions. Training.”

“Training? Like Defensive Combat Training?”

“Something like that, but with magic thrown in with the arse-kickings.”

“Sounds good,” I mutter.

“So, are you a student here again now?” Cassiel asks.

William shrugs. “Who knows? Blackridge and I didn’t exactly chat about my academic status.”

“Why haven’t they come yet?” CJ asks suddenly. “They know where you are. Why aren’t they here?”

“The wards?” I ask with a wary shrug. He’s right. Something feels off about this.

“No,” William replies, his voice hardening. “The wards wouldn’t stop them. Not completely. They’re waiting for something.”

The four of us exchange uneasy glances as we trek back toward SilverGate. The forest seems to close in behind us, erasing evidence of our ritual. I’m hyper-aware of William beside me, his presence comforting but unsettling after his abrupt disappearance.

“Or someone,” CJ adds, his amber-flecked eyes scanning the treeline. “Like most organisations, The Collectors operate in a hierarchy. Maybe they’re waiting for their leader.”

“The idea of them studying us, planning, makes my skin crawl,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself.

William moves closer, his hand landing on my lower back. “That’s precisely what they’re doing. Evaluating the threat level. Determining the right approach. Blackridge might’ve planned for this to happen, but this will have blindsided The Collectors. They weren’t expecting me to come back.”

“So that probably buys us time,” CJ says.

“Definitely buys us time,” William counters.

I glance between them, noting the tension crackling in the air. Whatever fragile alliance existed before William’s resurrection has shifted. His physical presence has altered the dynamics. He’s no longer the ghostly observer but a direct competitor for… what? Leadership? To be the alpha male?

Their competing auras clash like storm fronts, making the air between them heavy with unspoken challenge. I roll my eyes, not in the mood for testosterone-fuelled posturing.

“If you two are quite finished with your pissing contest,” I snap, “maybe we could focus on not dying?”

CJ’s mouth twitches with reluctant amusement, while William simply watches me with those eyes, now alive, that seem to see straight through me.

“The lady has a point,” Cassiel interjects smoothly. “We need a plan, not alpha male theatrics.”

We reach the edge of the academy grounds. SilverGate’s gothic spires loom against the night sky. Students move between buildings, oblivious to the forces converging around them, the danger lurking just beyond the wards.

“Training starts tomorrow,” William says decisively. “Dawn, in the training hall. No excuses.”

“Dawn?” I protest. “I’m a vampire. Not exactly my prime time.”

“Precisely why it’s perfect,” he says. “The Collectors won’t expect you to be active then. Plus, you need to learn to function at your weakest as well as your strongest.”

I hate that his logic is sound. “Fine.”

“I’ll be there too,” CJ states, not a question but a declaration.

William nods. “Good. Cassiel?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Then it’s settled,” William says, his gaze lingering on me. There’s something predatory in the way he watches me now. It’s thrilling and unsettling. “Get some rest, Isolde. You’ll need it.”

I snort, my anger still simmering just beneath the surface. “Rest? After everything that’s happened tonight?”

“Try,” he insists, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of genuine concern behind his calculated exterior. “Your body needs time to adjust after the extraction.”

My spine tingles at the reminder, phantom pain where Blackridge’s runes once sat. The relief of having them gone is overwhelming, but their absence has left me feeling strangely hollow, like a part of me was carved away alongside them.

“We’ll stay with you,” CJ murmurs, taking my hand in his.

As we make our way across the moonlit grounds, I become increasingly aware of the stares following us. I remember that everyone can see William now and is probably wondering who he is and where he came from. If only they knew he’d been here all along.