Page 15 of Demon Reform Academy, Term 3

15

HUNTER

M y mind kept drifting to Pandora.

I’d been so fucking busy that I’d barely spent time with her. All I wanted was to wrap her up in my arms and bury myself deep inside of her. The thought of her —her scent, her touch, her taste—was like a drug I couldn’t get enough of.

Yet, here I was, trapped in my office, tethered to responsibility and problems that refused to let up.

The first week of classes was just about over now, though, and I planned to get her alone this weekend. No interruptions. Just us. She deserved that much.

We deserved that much.

Across from me, Fester was mid-sentence, detailing some issue that I had dutifully noted down in his file, though much of it didn’t quite add up.

His words were like fragments of a shattered mirror—reflecting pieces of truth but never forming a whole picture.

On paper, Fester needed vengeance.

But my magic didn’t sense the need for it in his soul.

It was as though his hatred was an empty shell, devoid of the fire that true vengeance required.

I was beginning to think he was a sociopath.

“I’m telling you,” he continued, his voice low and wavering, “my dad’s death was their fault. Dark Veil took everything from me long before Mom was killed in Demon Council custody.”

“Your dad was sacrificed to the Veil?” I asked, watching him carefully.

There was no shift in his energy, no spark in my magic.

“Yes.” His jaw tightened, and pain flickered in his gaze. “I hate them more than anything. You have no idea what it’s like to be?—”

The door burst open in a whirlwind of shadowy energy and barely contained fury, cutting Fester off.

Dexter stormed in, his eyes blazing with raw anger, his steps heavy enough to shake the room.

Vengeance magic slithered in my ribs, coming to life in a way it hadn’t with Fester, and I knew his soul demanded vengeance.

It craved the very thing Fester’s lacked.

“Session’s over.” I dismissed Fester with a curt nod.

Fester scrambled to his feet, his chair screeching against the floor. He ducked his head down and left without a word.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Dexter’s words spilled out in a heated rush. “It’s my father,” he snarled. “Rod fucking Shadowheart. He’s here. He’s interested in Pandora.”

My anger flared to life, a fire that burned cold and vengeful. “Interested how?”

Dexter tossed a crumpled letter onto my desk. “See for yourself.”

I snatched it up and smoothed it out, scanning the scribbled inked words. Each sentence struck my heart like a blade. Raw fucking fury clawed its way through me, my fingers tightening around the paper as I read.

“That bastard,” I muttered, already reaching for my tablet.

This was a threat.

Pandora was in danger, again .

I called Death, my fingers trembling with barely contained rage as I waited for the line to connect. Each ring was a taut string of anticipation until finally, his voice came through, tight with anger as if he already knew we had a problem.

“What’s happened?”

“Rod Shadowheart,” I bit out. “He’s after Pandora. There’s a letter addressed to Dexter. It’s sickening. He wants to have Pandora, plain as day.”

“Have how?”

I explained the letter addressed to Dexter in detail, and his reaction was immediate.

Crashes sounded on his side as he lost his cool—not that I fucking blamed him.

I desperately wanted to do the same. My vengeance magic burned hot in my blood.

“Dexter,” Death said sharply, his voice cutting through the noise. “You need to keep an eye on her. I don’t care if you have to stalk her. I wouldn’t usually condone this, but her safety outweighs everything else.”

Dexter’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “I’ve been watching her,” he said, frustration edging his voice. “I’ll keep watching her.”

Death’s irritation seeped through the connection. “Good.”

Dexter nodded, his resolve unshaken. “I’ll tell Pandora about the letter.”

I hesitated, my protective instincts warring with my desire to shield Pandora from more fucking trauma. “Are you sure that’s wise?” I asked. “She’s always been in danger. Maybe she deserves to not feel that way, even if it’s just for a little while.”

“We have to tell her,” Dexter growled. “She needs to be prepared, and I’m just about to have a class with her.”

“She should know,” Death agreed.

I sighed, conceding to their logic even though it fucking killed me. “Fine . But make sure she understands she’s not alone in this.”

Dexter’s shoulders loosened slightly, a flicker of gratitude crossing his features once he realized I was letting him handle it. “I will. We won’t let anything happen to her.”

I watched him melt into the darkness.

“Is he gone?” Death asked, his breathing erratic.

“Yes.”

“He better be watching her.”

“He’s been watching her since he got back from the cavern. This latest decapitation has messed with him more than the others. Pandora is the only thing maintaining his sanity. If he’s decapitated again, I’m afraid he won’t be able to come back. If he does, there’s no way he’ll be the same.”

“I figured,” Death muttered with a long sigh. “I’ll contact the Supernatural Council about Rod Shadowheart. They’ll plaster his face everywhere. Make him a wanted demon alongside Blackthistle.”

“Good.” I nodded, my mind already racing ahead to what needed to be done. “We should’ve done that last term with both him and Poppy.”

“We tried,” Death said with a groan. “But Blackthistle convinced us to keep the dark magic epidemic under wraps. That was our mistake for trusting him.”

“Looking back, he was a suspicious bastard,” I muttered, rubbing the soul mark on my chest.

The thought of Pandora gave me both strength and a desperate need to protect her.

“Protect her, Hunter,” Death said softly, his voice laced with exhaustion.

“You know I’ll do everything I can. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Keep me updated,” he demanded before the line went dead.

I set the tablet aside and grabbed my mug.

Drinking the last of my caramel coffee, my mind focused on one thing and one thing only: Pandora .

I just wanted my fated mate safe—why was that so fucking much to ask for?