Page 50 of The Drama King
"Where's Dorian?" I asked, the question escaping before I could stop myself.
Corvus chuckled, the sound devoid of genuine humor. "Concerned about his whereabouts? How touching. He's attending to some business, but don't worry. He'll catch up with us after the performance."
The house lights dimmed, cutting off further conversation as the curtain rose on the Duchess's palace. Despite the masterful performances unfolding on stage, I couldn't focus, my mind racing with possible scenarios and escape plans. My balcony position made it impossible to locate Stephanie in the orchestra below, and the knowledge that Dorian was somewhere in the theater, planning something for after the show, kept my pulse hammering in my throat.
The Duchess's tragic story unfolded before me. A woman punished for exercising her autonomy, for loving against societal expectations, for daring to claim agency over her own body. The parallels to designation dynamics were obvious, the centuries-old text still painfully relevant in an omegaverse context.
I was so preoccupied with my own situation that I almost missed Oakley's subtle reaction during the torture scenes. A tightening of his jaw, a slight shift in his cedar scent that suggested genuine discomfort. Corvus, in contrast, watched with clinical detachment, occasionally making notes in a small black notebook like he was cataloging effective methods of psychological torment.
When intermission finally arrived, I stood immediately. "Excuse me," I said, not waiting for a response as I pushed past Corvus into the aisle.
"Don't wander too far," he called after me, the warning clear in his tone. "The second act is even more... enlightening."
I made my way to the lobby as quickly as possible without running, scanning the crowded space for Stephanie's blue-streaked hair. The central bar was packed with patrons ordering intermission drinks, making it difficult to spot anyone in the crush.
After five tense minutes, there was still no sign of her. I pulled out my phone to text her, only to discover I had no service in the historic building's thick walls. Anxiety blossomed into genuine fear as I pushed deeper into the crowd, checking every corner of the lobby.
"Looking for someone?" Dorian's voice, directly behind me, sent a jolt of adrenaline through my system.
nineteen
Vespera
Ispuntofindhim standing too close, his imposing height forcing me to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. Unlike Corvus and Oakley, he'd opted for more casual elegance. Dark jeans, a black button-down, and a leather jacket that emphasized his Alpha physicality outside the usual campus context.
"My friend," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Stephanie Shaw. We agreed to meet at intermission."
His smile held no warmth. "Ah yes, the loyal Beta roommate. I believe she received an urgent message about a family emergency. Had to step out to make some calls."
The calculated precision of it stole my breath. Of course they would have arranged for Stephanie to be called away. Probably a fake message that seemed urgent enough that she couldn't ignore it without appearing heartless.
"I need to find her," I said, already turning to move past him.
His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my wrist with deceptive gentleness. "The second act is about to begin, Vespera. Wouldn't want to miss the Duchess's final moments, would you? Especially given your... recent performance success."
The implied threat was clear. My academic standing, my perfect attendance record for required events, my scholarship status. All levers they knew exactly how to pull.
"Fine," I conceded, tugging my wrist free. "But I'm meeting her immediately after the show."
"Of course," he agreed smoothly. "We all have plans for after the performance."
The house lights flickered again, and I had no choice but to return to my seat, increasingly certain that I was walking into a trap. Corvus's knowing smile when I slid past him only confirmed my suspicions.
The second act ofThe Duchess of Malfiis notoriously brutal. Torture, murder, madness, and despair rendered in Webster's visceral poetry. Under other circumstances, I would have been captivated by the production's unflinching portrayal of aristocratic cruelty. Instead, I was intensely aware of Corvus and Oakley flanking me, of Dorian's absence, of Stephanie somewhere outside the theater trying to solve a nonexistent emergency.
When the final tragic tableau faded to blackout, I was already gathering my coat and bag, determined to exit as quickly as possible. The audience erupted into enthusiastic applause as the lights came up for curtain call, giving me cover to slip past Corvus and into the aisle before either Alpha could react.
"We'll meet you in the lobby," Corvus called after me, his voice carrying a warning note that I pretended not to hear.
I pushed through the crowd exiting the balcony, taking the stairs two at a time despite the risk of tripping in the dimly lit stairwell. The lobby was already filling with departing patrons,but there was no sign of Stephanie. I pulled out my phone again, relieved to see a single bar of service flickering in and out.
I managed to send a quick text—Where are you? Meet at buses ASAP—before the signal disappeared again. Making my way toward the main entrance, I scanned the thinning crowd for any sign of my roommate or the Alphas.
"Ms. Levine."
Professor De Scarzis appeared at my elbow, clipboard still in hand. "You'll need to sign out before departing. Attendance credit requires documentation of both arrival and departure."
"Of course," I said, taking the pen she offered and quickly signing beside my name. "Have you seen Stephanie Shaw? We were supposed to meet after the show."