Thornhill Academy. Chapter 108

**Cage**

I tell myself this is a job. That I’m here because the council wants answers, because my father told me to get close and figure out what makes her special. It’s strategy, not curiosity. It’s a duty, not a desire. Then she opens the door, and every carefully built wall in my head cracks.

“Allison,” I say, keeping my voice low and soft. I want to appear harmless. “Hey.”

She blinks up at me, guarded. “Cage. What do you want?”

I smile like I’ve practised it. Easy. Warm. False. “To see if you’re okay. Heard things got a little wild after the festival.”

Her brow creases. “You heard?”

“Word travels.” I shrug, pretending casual, even as the scent of her hits me hard, it's sweet, electric and threaded with power that makes my magic twitch. The bond under my skin hums like a live wire, whispering mate, mate, mate. I grind my teeth and force my smile wider.

“Can I come in?”

She hesitates, then steps aside. Big mistake, sweetheart. The dorm smells like tea and smoke, like her. It’s warm in a way that makes me hate it. I stand close enough to feel the heat coming off her and keep my expression open. I'm a concerned mate—everything I’m not. I mixed a potion before I came here, one that should keep her out of my head with her little mind-reading tricks, but on the off chance, I also need to guard my mind.

“I shouldn’t have been such an ass before,” I say carefully. “At the festival...and everywhere else... I didn’t handle any of this well.”

Her arms cross over her chest. “No, you didn’t.”

Fair. But the goal isn’t to argue. The goal is to win.

“I was scared,” I admit, letting the words roughen my tone and then adding just enough truth to make it sound real. “The bond, the council, all of it—it’s a lot. I’m not exactly free to think for myself half the time.”

She tilts her head, wary but listening.

“My father’s position… it comes with expectations,” I continue, forcing out a small, humourless laugh. “People watch everything I do. I’m supposed to follow the rules, pretend to agree with every order they hand down. Frown when they say someone’s dangerous. So when you showed up, unregistered and unpredictable, yeah, I had my guard up.”

Her eyes flicker, hurt and understanding warring across her face.

“I wasn’t trying to be cruel,” I lie, keeping my voice low. “I just couldn’t afford to be seen on the wrong side of it. Of you.”

Her eyes soften a little. I shouldn’t notice that. I shouldn’t like it.

"And now?" She asks, small and vulnerable.

The sound of it hits me harder than I expect. It’s quiet, but it cuts right through the armour I’ve been patching together since I got here.

I force a shrug, light and practised. “Now?” I echo, “Now I’m trying to be better about it. Trying to do the right thing.”

She searches my face like she can tell there’s more hiding under the words. I keep my expression steady, easy smile, and eyes soft. The kind of look that makes people believe I care.

“I don’t want to fight with you anymore, Allison,” I tell her. “We’ve both got enough enemies. You don’t need me adding to that list.”

That’s what I’m supposed to say. That’s what will get her to trust me. And it works, she lets out a long, shaky breath, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. But the bond is humming under my skin again, low and hot. The scent of her pulls at me, and it’s getting harder to remember that this is just a job. That she’s a mark, not a choice.

“Maybe we could start over?” I offer. “I’d like that.”

Inside, something snarls at me. *Liar.* I keep my face neutral. Let her see the version of me that’s safe, that wants to understand. The one she might trust enough to tell the truth to.

She exhales slowly, tension easing from her shoulders. “I don’t know if I can trust you, Cage.”

“Then let me prove you can.” The words come out smoother than I expect, like the bond itself is feeding them to me.

She hesitates again, eyes searching mine, and I feel it, the slight flicker of belief. The smallest thread of trust. Good. That’s what I need.

“Allison,” I start, already planning my exit, but she surprises me.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” she asks softly.

For a second, I just stare at her. Dinner. Like we’re normal. Like I haven’t spent the last few weeks trying to convince myself I hate her. Before I can answer, there’s movement behind her. The hellhound steps out from the kitchen, shirtless, eyes flashing gold. The dragon’s there too, leaning against the counter like he’s trying not to burn holes in me with his glare. There's a low, warning growl rumbling from both of them. It vibrates through the air like a threat and a promise all at once. My pulse spikes even as my mouth curves into a slow smirk.

“Guess that’s a no, then?” I ask lightly.

But before I can take a step back, Allison turns around, shooting them both a look. “Kael. Evander.” Just their names. That’s all it takes. Instantly, both men fall quiet. Kael runs a hand through his hair and looks away, muttering something under his breath. Evander exhales, the tension easing out of his shoulders.

“Sorry,” Evander says. “Didn’t mean to—”

“Growl like feral animals?” she finishes, one brow raised.

Kael actually grins at that, but I can see it, the way they soften when she looks at them, the way the room bends around her without her even trying. They’re already wrapped around her finger, and she doesn’t even realise it.

She steps aside, gesturing for me to come in again. “Ignore them. They’re protective.”

Protective. Right. I step past her, careful not to touch, and take in the room. What I expect is bare walls and broken furniture—exactly what I’d ordered when my father told me a stray was being dumped here. But this? This is something else. Warm lamplight glows off shelves lined with books and strange trinkets. A quilt covers the massive bed with a dozen pillows, mismatched but soft-looking. There are plants by the window, thriving despite the weak light, and the faint smell of magic in the air; it's clean and unmistakably hers. It hits me like a punch. How the hell does someone with nothing, no name, no family, no money, end up with this? With a warm and cosy place to rest and people who would snarl at me just for standing too close. I glance at her again, and she’s smiling faintly, oblivious to the way she’s made this wreck of a space into something that feels like home.

And I can’t help but wonder—

What else is she hiding that I don't know about her?