Page 36 of The Drama King

A laugh escaped her—nervous, disbelieving. "This is so fucked up."

"I know."

The rest of the workshop passed in a blur. We managed to maintain professionalism, but the air between us had fundamentally changed. Every glance carried weight. Every prescribed touch lingered a moment too long.

When class ended, she packed quickly, but I caught her wrist gently before she could flee.

"Vespera."

She looked up at me, wary despite what we'd just shared. "What?"

"I meant it. What I said. No more cruelty."

She pulled free, stepping back. "You've said things before. Made promises with your eyes while your pack destroyed me an hour later."

"This is different—"

"No." Her voice was steady but her hands shook as she clutched her bag. "Because from where I'm standing, you're still one of them. You'll go back to that house tonight, laugh about how easy it was to make the pathetic Omega melt for you."

The accusation stung because I understood it. I earned it.

"That's not—"

"Save it." She cut me off, jaw tight. "I know what this was. Williamson wanted authentic chemistry and we delivered. But don't insult me by pretending it meant something to you."

She turned to leave, then paused, not looking back. "For what it's worth? You're a better actor than I gave you credit for. You almost had me believing you actually cared."

Then she was gone, leaving me standing there with the taste of her still on my lips and the certainty that I'd have to do more than make promises to earn her trust.

Actions, not words. That's what she'd need to believe me.

WhenIfinallymadeit back to the pack house, Dorian was waiting, sprawled in his leather chair with deceptive casualness.

"Well?" He didn't look up from his phone. "How did our Juliet perform?"

I poured myself a drink, buying time. "She's more resilient than expected."

"That's not what I asked." Now he did look up, ice-blue eyes sharp. "I asked how she performed. Specifically, how she responded to you."

"She's attracted," I said truthfully. "Her body can't hide it, even with suppressants."

"Good." He set his phone aside, giving me his full attention. "So we proceed with the next phase. Build the trust, make her dependent on you as her 'protector' from us."

I nodded, the movement feeling mechanical. "About that—"

"Don't overthink it, Oak." He stood, clapping my shoulder with the casual affection of a decade's friendship. "I know it feels cruel, but remember what my father always says—sometimes you have to break something to rebuild it properly."

His father. The family that had sheltered me when mine imploded.

"Besides," Dorian continued, misreading my silence, "she's stronger than she looks. She might even enjoy it once she accepts her place. Some of them do."

The casual dismissal of her autonomy should have infuriated me. Instead, I just felt tired. Torn between the girl whose kiss still burned on my lips and the brother who'd saved me when I had nowhere else to go.

"Get some rest," Dorian said, heading for the stairs. "Tomorrow we escalate. I want her isolated from everyone but you by the end of the week."

After he left, I stood alone in the common room, staring at nothing. The taste of Vespera still lingered—honey and jasmine and possibility. But stronger than that was the weight of everything I owed Dorian. Everything I'd lose if I betrayed him.

Her parting words echoed:You almost had me believing you actually cared.