Page 2 of Bound By Fate
"It's a four-person bathroom, Luce," Rhett muttered, spitting into the sink. "Join the party. Lina's hogging the mirror."
"I am not," I protested. "I occupy ten percent of this mirror. You’re the one who needs to inspect your scowl from every angle."
Lucien’s lips quirked. He moved past Rhett, turning on the shower. Steam instantly began to fill the room, softening the sharp edges of the morning.
"The Assembly is at ten," Lucien reminded us, testing the water temperature with a pale hand. "Dean Marrow expects full attendance."
Rhett groaned again, louder this time. "I hate assemblies. It’s just people talking about things they could have put in an email. And Marrow... he smells like bleach and politician."
"He smells like a Null," I said quietly.
The playful mood in the room faltered. Rhett froze, toothbrush mid-air. Lucien paused with his hand on the glass shower door.
"We don't know that for sure," Lucien said, though his eyes darkened. "His scent is... absent. That doesn't guarantee he's a Null. He could be masking."
"It's the same absence Graves had," I insisted, leaning back against the counter. "Like a hole in the world where magic should be."
"If he's a Null," Rhett growled, "I'll rip his throat out before he gets through the opening remarks."
"No throat-ripping," I said firmly, poking him in the chest. "Not today. We are model students today. We are going to sit there, look attentive, and imply that we are perfectly happy and definitely not plotting a coup."
Rhett caught my finger, bringing it to his lips. His storm-grey eyes locked onto mine, simmering with that protective intensitythat always made my knees weak. "I don't simulate happiness well, Lina. I have 'Resting Murder Face'. You know this."
"Work on it," I teased. "Channel Kai. Smile with your teeth."
"That sounds like a threat," Lucien noted, stepping into the shower. "Save me some hot water. Or don't. I enjoy the cold."
"Freak," Rhett murmured affectionately.
Thirty minutes later, the bathroom was a foggy, humid mess, and we were migrating to the kitchen.
I walked out to find Kai already awake and wreaking havoc. He was singing along to a pop song blasting from his phone, dancing around the kitchen island while flipping pancakes. He wore pajama pants with little cartoon wolves on them—a gag gift from Ivy that he unironically loved.
"Good morning, sunshine!" he crowed, spotting me. He spun a pancake into the air, caught it perfectly on the plate, and slid it toward me. "Blueberry lemon ricotta. Because you’re fancy."
"You’re an angel," I said, inhaling the scent. He had been working on his cooking skills since we moved in.
"I’m a culinary god," he corrected. "Rhett, coffee is in the pot. Lucien, I made you the sad, plain oatmeal you like. It’s on the counter."
"It’s not sad," Lucien’s voice drifted from the hallway as he emerged, now dressed in a crisp black button-down. "It’s efficient. Glucose. Fiber. Sustenance."
"Sad," Kai whispered to me loud enough for him to hear.
I hopped onto a barstool, wrapping my hands around a mug of coffee. The kitchen was bright and airy, the perfect antidote to the heavy conversation in the bathroom. Textbooks were scattered on the coffee table. A half-finished game of Scrabble sat on the rug. Kai’s succulents lined the windowsill, soaking up the light.
It looked like a home. A real one.
But the illusion of normalcy was pierced by the refrigerator.
Held up by a magnet shaped like a pepperoni slice was the card.
The Queen of Hearts.
It looked innocuous enough. Just a playing card. But the photo on the front—the grainy, black-and-white surveillance shot of me with a red target drawn on my chest—told a different story. And the message on the back, scrawled in red ink that looked uncomfortably like dried blood.
SEE YOU SOON.
Rhett walked in, fully dressed now in dark jeans and a grey t-shirt that strained against his shoulders. He saw me looking at the fridge and scowled.
