Page 52 of The Drama King

"And look where that got her," Corvus observed with clinical detachment. "Dead, along with her children and the lover who encouraged her rebellion."

The car turned onto a side street, moving away from the main downtown thoroughfare. I tensed, suddenly realizing we weren't heading toward campus.

"This isn't the way back to Northwood," I said, fighting to keep panic from my voice.

"A slight detour," Dorian replied smoothly. "There's something we want to show you."

My hand moved to my coat pocket, fingers closing around my phone. No chance of calling for help. Even if I had service, they'd stop me before I could dial. But there was another option, something Stephanie had insisted I set up after the first few weeks of harassment.

With practiced movements, I pressed the emergency SOS button through my coat pocket. Three rapid clicks that would send my location to Stephanie's phone along with a preset help message. Whether she'd receive it in time was another question entirely.

"I have to be back on campus by eleven," I said, trying to buy time. "Curfew for scholarship students."

"We're well aware of your restrictions," Corvus said, his tone suggesting he found them amusing. "Don't worry, we'll have you back in time to maintain your perfect record. We wouldn't want to jeopardize your... academic standing."

The car pulled into what appeared to be an abandoned parking lot behind a shuttered warehouse, the windows dark and many broken, graffiti covering the lower walls. The rain drummed on the roof of the car as Dorian cut the engine, plunging us into relative silence broken only by the sound of our breathing.

"Why are we here?" I asked, unable to keep the tremor from my voice now.

"Privacy," Dorian replied, turning in his seat to face me fully. "You've been very successful at evading us on campus, Vespera. Always surrounded by witnesses, always in protected spaces. It's made our conversations... limited."

"There's nothing to discuss," I said, my hand moving to the door handle even though I knew it was locked. "You've made your position clear from day one. You want me gone, and I refuse to leave."

"Oh, I think there's plenty to discuss," Dorian countered, his smile predatory in the dim light. "Starting with your recent success in the showcase and what it means for your future at Northwood."

Something in his tone made me pause. This wasn't going the direction I'd expected.

"Your Lady Macbeth was... compelling," he continued, watching me with unnerving intensity. "Raw talent that most of your peers can only dream of possessing. It would be a shame to waste it."

"I'm not leaving Northwood," I repeated, my voice steadier now. "No matter what you do."

"Who said anything about leaving?" Corvus interjected, his analytical gaze dissecting my every reaction. "We're simply discussing your place in the department hierarchy. The natural order of things."

Dorian's eyes never left mine. "You've proven yourself exceptional, Vespera. But exceptional doesn't mean exempt from designation realities."

"What he means," Oakley said, speaking for the first time since entering the car, "is that your talent has... complicated matters."

I glanced between them, trying to understand what they were saying beneath the surface. "Complicated how?"

"You weren't supposed to be this good," Dorian said bluntly. "Scholarship Omegas typically break under pressure, transfer out, fade into obscurity. You're... different."

"And difference requires adjustment," Corvus added, his clinical tone at odds with the predatory gleam in his eyes. "A recalibration of approach."

My SOS should have reached Stephanie by now, assuming she had service. Whether she could do anything about it was another question entirely. I needed to keep them talking, buy time.

"What kind of adjustment?"

Dorian's smile widened. "The kind that acknowledges your potential while ensuring you understand your place. The showcase proved you have genuine talent. The Beatrice casting confirms it. But talent doesn't change what you are. An Omega in an Alpha world."

He reached across the center console, and for one terrifying moment I thought he was going to touch me. Instead, he flipped open a small compartment and removed what looked like a thin silver bracelet.

"A gift," he said, holding it out. "A token of our... revised approach."

I stared at the bracelet without taking it. "What is that?"

"A designation tracker," Corvus explained, as if discussing the weather. "Subtle enough to be mistaken for jewelry, sophisticated enough to monitor your designation signals, location, and proximity to authorized Alphas."

Horror washed through me. "You can't be serious."