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T HE TWENTY-THREE REMAINING STUDENTS WAITED ANXIOUSLY OUTSIDE Professor Andreyas’s class. Many were furiously going over their notes, lips moving silently in recital.

Kidan went first. The room remained dark, and she occupied the lone chair in the middle space, lit by an overhead lamp.

“So, Kidan, how did you find Quadrantism?”

Kidan paused, remembering Susenyos on his knees, dark-eyed and lips bloodied. A monster, yet with a clear, unbending human want. She explained what Susenyos had done, forcing his people into a life of immortality.

There had to be a personal connection to her theory, uncovering how a human mirrored a dranaic. She pulled her sleeves over her palms and explained the hardest months of her life, alone in her apartment.

She stared out the side window. Words felt like pulling teeth. Why was this so hard? “If I had the power to never feel loneliness again… I think… I’d make his choice.”

She dropped her gaze, unable to face the truth of her words. But they were out there, brutal and honest.

“Is that correct?” the professor asked.

Kidan prepared to answer but another voice spoke.

“Yes.”

She jumped and whirled around. Even before spotting him in the shadows, she’d recognized his even tone, one reserved for dealing with business. Clipped and to the point.

Susenyos approached, dressed in a long black coat, and stood next to her chair. He didn’t look at her.

“She revealed it perfectly.”

How long had he been there? Kidan averted her gaze, studying the floor.

“Thank you. You may leave.”

Susenyos lingered for a moment, then exited through the side door.

“Well done,” the professor said. “You’ve passed.”

Kidan glared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”

“Would that have changed your answer?”

She bit her lip and snatched up her bag.

“Stay in the adjacent room until the test is finished.”

She eyed the main door, hoping her friends would join her soon, and slipped through to the side room. GK appeared at the entrance.

“You passed?” Kidan straightened.

“I… dropped out.”

Kidan’s brows disappeared into her hairline. “What?”

“Iniko’s purgatory… She was forced to abandon her people because of an order. I never want to relate to that, leave behind so much destruction.” His eyes were troubled. “I never feel anger. It’s an emotion we cast aside in our training, but it suffocates me now. I’m changing, and I don’t like the person I’m becoming.”

“But you told me you wanted a dranaic companion.”

“Not anymore. Not if it’s a bond steeped in so much anger and hatred.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m saving my soul.” His warm smile slowly returned. “This isn’t the path I want.”

“So, you’re leaving.”

She couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her tone.

He regarded her with light, swimming eyes and lifted the bone chain from his waistband. “The chain still warns me of your death.”

She avoided his intense gaze, staring instead at the macabre chain, her throat closing in. Perhaps GK was wrong. Maybe the bones didn’t foretell her death but revealed her murders.

“I still hear her choking. Ramyn, I mean. I was close to saving her, and now I feel the same sinking feeling. That I’ll be too late to save you all.”

There was that echo again, a connection to GK she’d always felt was unique. Almost familial, primal, a need to save and protect others, even at the risk of one’s own life. The guilt that ate away at the soul for failing. Ramyn was his June, and he walked around haunted that he’d fail others he cared for.

GK’s gaze traveled to the floor. “I don’t know how to help you, Kidan.”

Her brows creased. “I’m fine, GK. You don’t need to worry about me.”

He kept playing with the finger bones, expression unreadable.

“And Yusef… Something happened to him, didn’t it.”

Kidan’s blood turned cold. “No, he’s just worried about the art exhibition.”

He forced a nod, a slash of disappointment crossing his features. After he left, Kidan sank into a chair. She had come to rely on GK’s serene presence, but it wasn’t safe anymore. Until things settled down… she’d have to keep her distance.

Finally, Titus Levigne came in for Slen’s test. Kidan’s shoulders tensed. She could barely wait for Slen to emerge. Her fingers tapped away a triangle so loudly that a girl passing by shot her an annoyed look.

When they finally appeared, Slen gave her a nod. Kidan unfurled her fingers, focusing on the vampire who could answer everything. She followed him out—and June fell into step with her, the breeze playing in her curling braids. Her sister’s creased eyes had returned to their honeyed color. The fury from the past few days had melted from her face like snow. Kidan was on the right track.