Page 26 of The Drama King (The University Players Duet #1)

nineteen

Vespera

I spun to find him 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 of The Duchess of Malfi is 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."

"Ms. Shaw left early," De Scarzis replied, consulting her clipboard. "Some family emergency. She signed out during intermission."

So it was true. They had successfully isolated me.

"The buses will depart in twenty minutes," De Scarzis continued, already moving on to the next student. "Don't be late."

Twenty minutes. I needed to find Stephanie and get on that bus before the pack could implement whatever they had planned. Pushing through the revolving door, I stepped out into the rainy night, the temperature having dropped significantly during the performance.

The street was busy with departing theatergoers and evening traffic, taxi lights glinting off wet pavement as they pulled up to collect passengers. Our charter buses were parked half a block down, barely visible through the rain.

I pulled my coat tighter and started walking, trying to project confidence I didn't feel. The sidewalk was crowded enough that I felt relatively safe. Surely they wouldn't attempt anything with so many witnesses around.

I was wrong.

I'd made it halfway to the buses when a sleek black Aston Martin pulled up alongside the curb, its tinted window rolling down to reveal Dorian in the driver's seat.

"Need a ride, Vespera?" he called, his voice carrying despite the traffic noise. "Your friend already left with the first bus. This one's just for equipment transport."

I glanced toward the buses, noticing for the first time that one was indeed pulling away from the curb, while the other's cargo bay was open as tech crew loaded production equipment. A perfect lie. Plausible enough that I might have believed it if I hadn't been expecting some kind of trap.

"I'll wait for the second bus," I replied, continuing to walk.

Dorian's car rolled forward, keeping pace with me. "It could be an hour before they finish loading. And the rain's getting worse."

As if on cue, the drizzle intensified into a proper downpour, soaking through my inadequate coat within seconds. I picked up my pace, painfully aware of how I must look. A drowned scholarship student refusing help from the wealthy Alpha who could solve her immediate problem with the turn of a key.

I was so focused on Dorian that I almost collided with Corvus and Oakley, who had materialized on the sidewalk ahead of me, effectively cutting off my path to the buses. They stood under a large black umbrella, dry and imposing in their expensive suits.

"This is becoming rather dramatic," Corvus observed, his tone conversational despite the predatory intent radiating from his posture. "We're simply offering you a ride back to campus, Vespera. No need for all this... resistance."

I stopped, trapped between the car and the Alphas, calculating my options.

The street was still busy, but the rain had driven most pedestrians to shelter, leaving the sidewalk increasingly empty.

I could try to push past them, but three against one were terrible odds.

I could scream, draw attention, make a scene—but then what?

The fallout would be on me, the hysterical Omega causing trouble.

"What do you want?" I asked finally, rain streaming down my face, plastering my hair to my skull.

"Just a conversation," Dorian replied from behind me. "Without institutional constraints or witnesses."

"And if I say no?"

Dorian's laugh was soft and dangerous. "Then you walk back to campus in the rain. It's only five miles. Of course, your attendance credit might be jeopardized if you don't return with the department transport."

Another trap. Of course they'd thought of everything. My scholarship required perfect attendance for all mandatory events—including proper arrival and departure procedures.

"Fine," I said, the word tasting like defeat. "But just a ride. Nothing else."

Corvus smiled, as if I'd said something amusing. "Of course. Just a ride."

He opened the rear door of the Aston Martin with a flourish, gesturing for me to enter. Every instinct screamed that this was a mistake, but my options were rapidly diminishing along with potential witnesses.

I slid into the back seat, immediately pressing myself against the far door, creating as much distance as possible between myself and whoever would join me.

To my surprise, Oakley slipped in beside me while Corvus took the front passenger seat.

The door locks engaged with an ominous click as Dorian pulled smoothly away from the curb.

"Wasn't the production fascinating?" Corvus asked, turning slightly to address me. "Webster's exploration of power dynamics and forbidden desire is remarkably relevant, even centuries later."

The casual conversation was so incongruous with the menace radiating from him that I almost laughed. "Particularly the scenes of psychological torture and unjust punishment," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. "Very educational."

Oakley shifted beside me, his cedar scent carrying notes of... was that discomfort? I glanced at him to find his expression unreadable, but his posture was rigid, hands clasped tightly in his lap.

"Indeed," Dorian agreed, his eyes finding mine in the rearview mirror. "Though I found the Duchess herself most compelling. Her refusal to accept her place in the established order, her defiance of those who knew what was best for her. A tragic flaw that led directly to her downfall."

The parallel was so heavy-handed I would have rolled my eyes if I weren't genuinely afraid. "She was punished for exercising autonomy over her own body," I countered. "For refusing to let her brothers control her sexuality and her choices."

"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.