“You have to stop—” I started, the words catching like a wound in my throat. I didn’t finish the sentence.

  Because we both knew what I meant.

  And we both knew he wouldn’t.

  “You know better than to ask me that,” he said, voice hard as steel.

  There was no room in it. No give. Just the cold edge of a blade I’d already bled on.

  “Landeskog can see—everyone can see—that you… that we…” The words caught in my throat, flimsy and soaked, barely audible beneath the hiss of rain. “He’s going to use me to get to you.”

  “Yes,” Okami said without hesitation, his jaw clenched tight, eyes burning into mine.

  “You knew?” I demanded, heat rising despite the rain pelting down around us. “And you agreed to it? Why the hell would you⁠—”

  “It’s the only way I can keep my eyes on you.”

  The answer landed sharp and flat, no softness behind it.

  I reeled. “So what? You think I’m too weak to survive without you shadowing me?”

  He didn’t flinch. I hated that he didn’t flinch.

  “I know I’ve made mistakes,” I snapped, voice cracking through the storm. “But I’ve learned. I’m not the girl who left with Jeremy. I’m not her anymore.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” he cut in, low and rough. “You trained under Sannin. You survived things most of these cadets couldn’t even imagine. This isn’t about whether I think you’re strong.”

  “Then what is it about?”

  His answer came like thunder.

  “You’re mine.”

  I froze.

  The words echoed louder than the storm, louder than my heartbeat.

  “What does that mean?” I asked, barely breathing. “Because I honestly don’t know what you want from me.”

  “Everything,” he said.

  And then he kissed me.

  It wasn’t gentle.

  It wasn’t soft.

  It was war.

  His mouth claimed mine like he’d been starving for it, like I was the first breath after drowning. One hand tangled in my rain-slicked hair, the other locked around my waist, pulling me flush against him, like he needed to feel me to believe I was still standing.

  I didn’t resist.

  I kissed him back like I was trying to burn him from the inside out.

  The rain poured around us, cold and relentless, but it might as well have been fire. His hands moved down my back, anchoring me to him. My fingers fisted the front of his shirt, nails digging into soaked fabric and skin beneath.

  This wasn’t control.

  This was surrender.

  And it terrified me.

  When we broke apart, both of us were breathless, our foreheads pressed together, the space between us tight and full of everything we hadn’t said.

  “I can’t lose you,” he said, barely more than a rasp. “I can’t let them take you from me.”

  The look in his eyes nearly undid me—fierce, raw, desperate.

  But I didn’t say anything.

  Because I was already his.

  His words cracked something open in me—something I’d buried so deep I forgot it existed. As the rain poured around us, relentless and wild, I looked into Okami’s eyes and saw the truth I hadn’t wanted to name. This wasn’t just protection. It wasn’t just chemistry. It was a bond forged through danger, silence, and all the moments we’d almost let go but didn’t. A tether that pulled us tighter with every shared breath.

  He wasn’t stoic now. There was a storm behind his eyes that mirrored the one above us—fierce, unrelenting, and entirely focused on me.

  My hand trembled as I reached up, brushing the rain from his cheek, only to feel the heat beneath his skin—burning for me. He didn’t hesitate. He slammed his mouth to mine and pressed me back against the wall, kissing me like he wanted to erase every reason I ever had to doubt him. His tongue demanded, claimed, took, and I gave in with a desperation that matched his own.

  Clothes clung to our bodies, soaked and suffocating. He yanked at mine with barely restrained impatience; I tore at his shirt like it had wronged me. I needed to feel him—every inch. Needed the proof that this wasn’t just heat or hunger. It was us.

  He lifted me without a word, and I wrapped my legs around his waist on instinct. The heat of him seared through the cold, grounding me in the chaos. There was no gentleness in the way he thrust into me. No warning. Just a brutal, beautiful truth in the way he filled me—like his body was the only place I was ever meant to be.

  Our eyes locked, even as I gasped, even as my head tipped back and he gripped my thighs tighter, anchoring me to him.

  His rhythm started slow—measured, relentless. Like he was memorizing me. Then it picked up, matching the rain pounding against the metal. Every thrust was a promise. Every movement, a vow.

  And in that violent, breathless collision of storm and skin, I knew—I was his.

  The look in his eyes—dark, possessive, unrelenting—set off a cascade of chills that raced down my spine. But beneath the shiver was heat. A wild, burning need to be taken, to be his, completely and without restraint. I locked my legs tighter around his waist, grounding myself in the sharp, undeniable pressure of him inside me.

  His hands swept over my body with purpose, every touch a spark across my skin. It wasn’t just lust—it was branding. His pulse beat hard against mine, as if our hearts were trying to sync, to become one in this raw, breathless rhythm.

  “Takashi-sensei,” I gasped, the name torn from my lips on a moan. It ached, this feeling—this pleasure edged with pain, this need that stole all sense of time and place. Rain poured over us in sheets, mingling with sweat, blurring the lines between body and storm.

  He growled low in my ear, then bit down on my neck, not gently. I cried out, clawing at his shoulders, nails digging deep as lightning streaked the sky like a battle cry. The rain couldn’t cool us—it only added fuel to the fire.

  The pressure coiled deep in my core, a sharp ache that twisted tighter with every thrust. I arched into him, needing more, needing all of him. He gave it without hesitation, slamming into me with a primal urgency that stole my breath.

  The sounds—the slap of skin against skin, the storm raging around us, our ragged, gasping moans—merged into one feverish symphony. Okami’s body shuddered against mine, muscles drawn taut, every motion pushing me closer to the edge.

  I could feel him losing control, every thrust rougher, more frantic, as if he needed to bury himself so deep I’d never forget. As if this moment had to be carved into the marrow of my bones.

  “Fuck, Takashi,” I breathed, voice barely holding steady as pleasure surged, stealing through me like a tidal wave. I clung to him, wrapping myself around him tighter, desperate to take him deeper, to hold him inside me just a little longer.

  The rain roared. Our cries broke against each other. And in the eye of the storm, we came undone.

  I cried out as release crashed through me, my body seizing around him in waves I couldn’t control. It hit like a tidal wave—blinding, breathless, raw. My nails scraped down his back, clinging to him as if letting go meant drowning. I was shaking, boneless, undone in his arms.

  But Okami didn’t stop.

  His thrusts turned ragged, more frantic, chasing his own edge with single-minded focus. Rain pelted us in relentless sheets, soaking our skin, blurring everything except the slick heat of our bodies and the furious rhythm of our hearts.

  Then he looked at me.

  That look. Fierce. Unfiltered. Like he wanted to burn his name into my soul.

  “Mine,” he growled against my neck, voice low and rough. “Mine. Mine.”

  I couldn’t breathe.

  “Yours,” I whispered, voice shaking. “I’m yours. Only yours.”

  “Piper…” It was half a warning, half a plea.

  “Come for me,” I said, pulling him tighter. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

  He let go with a guttural sound that rattled through his chest. One final, desperate thrust—and then he was spilling into me, heat blooming deep inside as he shuddered, body tensing against mine. The rain still poured, but all I could feel was him. Marking me. Claiming me in a way no one else ever had.

  I rested my forehead against his shoulder, heartbeat still skittering in my chest.

  “What now?” I asked, the question barely audible over the storm.

  “Nothing,” he said, pulling out slowly, reluctantly. “You’ll train with me. And I’ll kill anyone who touches you.”

  I started pulling on my wet clothes, shivering, the weight of what we’d done pressing in. “I won’t be your weakness.”

  His hand caught the back of my head, dragging me to his chest. Lips brushed my crown—soft, almost reverent.

  “You’re not,” he said. “You’re my strength.”

  I wasn’t sure he’d even said it.

  Maybe it was the rain.

  Maybe it was just what I wanted to hear.

  But something inside me shifted. Like everything and nothing had changed at once.

  And I didn’t know what to do with that.

  Fourteen

  Rain poured in heavy sheets, drumming against metal and stone, carving rivers along the ground that shimmered in the low light. Okami and I dressed in silence, soaked fabric sticking stubbornly to our skin. There was urgency in our movements, but no panic. Just the quiet hum of understanding—the storm outside was nothing compared to the one between us.

  He fastened the last clasp on his uniform, then turned to me. One hand reached up, fingers tilting my chin, and he kissed me again—gentler this time, but no less intense. It wasn’t about lust. It was a vow. A question. A goodbye, if it had to be.

  When he pulled back, his voice was low, steady. “Training starts tomorrow.”

  I nodded, heart thudding.

  He hesitated, then leaned close again, breath warm against my rain-slick skin. “Stay alive, MacKenzie.”

  It wasn’t just a command. It was a plea dressed as steel. I swallowed hard, nodding once more. No promises. Just acknowledgment. I would try.

  I turned and walked away, not trusting myself to say anything else.

  The trek back to my dorm was slow and slippery, the rain relentless, the path winding and half-obscured by fog. Each step felt like moving through molasses, my body heavy with exhaustion, adrenaline, and something I couldn’t name. Something that felt a lot like fear. Or maybe hope.

  By the time I reached the dorm, the halls were silent. No whispers. No laughter. Just the soft hum of electricity and the occasional creak of pipes. Everyone was already asleep.

  I slipped inside, careful not to make a sound. My roommates were curled beneath their blankets, peaceful and unaware of the storm I carried in my chest. I moved to my locker and peeled off my soaked clothes, each tug a small shiver of discomfort. Cold air kissed my skin, but it wasn’t what made me tremble.

  The memory of his voice, his mouth, his body—it haunted every inch of me.

  I dressed in dry clothes, soft cotton hugging damp skin, and sat on the edge of my bed without turning down the covers. My fingers twitched. My heart wouldn’t settle.

  You’ll train with me. I’ll kill anyone who touches you. Stay alive.

  I didn’t know what I wanted from him.

  I didn’t know what he wanted from me.

  All I knew was that something had changed—and I wasn’t sure if it would save me or destroy me.

  I crawled into bed and pulled the blanket up to my chin, curling in on myself like it might hold the pieces of me together. The mattress was familiar, but tonight, it felt like someone else’s bed. The silence in the room was thick, broken only by the steady tick of the wall clock and the soft tap of rain against the window.

  I closed my eyes.

  Tried to breathe.

  Tried to shut it all down.

  But sleep didn’t come.

  My mind wouldn’t quiet. Every time I got close, a new thought shoved its way in—Okami’s mouth on mine, the promise in his voice, the weight of tomorrow’s training. The flash of Landeskog’s narrowed eyes. The way Okami had said my name.

  I shifted, flipped the pillow, adjusted the blanket, flipped again. Nothing worked. Everything was too loud. The creak of bedsprings, the wind pressing against the walls, the phantom echo of his voice—Stay alive, MacKenzie—ringing in my head.

  The more I tried to force stillness, the more my thoughts spun.

  It was like something had opened inside me, and now it wouldn’t close. I wasn’t the same girl who’d slipped out of this room hours ago. That version of me had died in the rain. And whatever I was now… I hadn’t figured her out yet.

  All I knew was morning was coming. And with it, a reckoning.

  A hand on my shoulder pulled me out of the haze.

  I blinked up at Kira’s face, half-lit by the pale blue glow of dawn creeping through the curtains. My limbs felt heavy, like I hadn’t slept at all. Probably because I hadn’t.

  “You good?” she asked softly.

  I nodded. Lied.

  Mei stirred across the room, sitting up in bed. “Why’s your hair damp?” she asked, brow raised, voice too casual to be innocent.

  I didn’t answer. Just rolled away and reached for my uniform.

  The Veiled Blades tee was cold against my skin—white cotton stamped with the academy insignia—and the black military pants felt stiffer than usual, like armor I hadn’t earned. I laced up my boots in silence.

  No one pressed further.

  The morning buzz we usually shared was gone. The room was quiet, thick with tension and questions no one dared to ask. We were all carrying something. Secrets. Scars. Sins.

  I just happened to be carrying mine in soaked hair and bruised lips.

  We dressed in silence, then stepped out into the morning mist, a quiet line of shadows cutting across the damp path toward the mess hall. The chill in the air was sharp and clean, clearing the haze in my head better than any amount of sleep could’ve. I kept my eyes forward, tuning out the pounding of my heart and focusing on the rhythm of our steps. Kira walked beside me on the left, Mei on the right—neither speaking, both steady. Their presence was grounding. Proof that I wasn’t alone, even if I felt like I was carrying the weight of a battlefield on my back.

  Inside the mess hall, the tension hit like a wall.

  Every cadet stood at attention beside their House tables, shoulders squared, faces grim. No one whispered. No one moved.

  At the front stood the captains—each one a pillar of authority—but Okami stood out like lightning in a gathering storm. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, but the quiet violence in his stillness was louder than any shout. Eyes flicked to him. Then away.

  Then Landeskog stepped forward.

  He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

  “This morning,” he began, tone clipped and clear, “we honor the memory of two of our own.” His eyes swept the room—and then landed on me. “Cadets Starla Cross and Liv Mote.”

  A ripple spread through the room like the first tremor before an earthquake. Murmurs. Sharp intakes of breath. Grief laced with fear.

  I felt Landeskog watching me. Measuring. Accusing. Daring me to flinch.

  I didn’t.

  I locked my jaw and met his stare, letting every ounce of steel I had show on my face. We both knew what this was. This wasn’t just a eulogy. This was a message. I know what happened. I know who you’re with.

  The girls’ deaths weren’t random. They were a warning, written in blood and left at my feet.

  Still, I didn’t look away.

  Landeskog’s lips tightened. “At ease, cadets. Eat. Then prepare for training.”

  The room shifted like a collective exhale. Bodies moved. Conversations stayed hushed.

  I took a breath, slow and deep, forcing my spine to stay straight as we filed toward our table. The tension hadn’t lifted—it just retreated, simmering beneath every step and whispered glance.

  We sat. Plates clattered softly. The food smelled the same as always, but I could barely taste it.

  Kira leaned in, her voice quiet. “How’s your arm?”

  I tugged up my sleeve and peeled back the bandage just enough to look. The skin around the stitches was red and angry-looking, the area more swollen than it had been the night before. A dull throb pulsed beneath the surface now that I was paying attention.

  “That doesn’t look good,” I muttered.

  Kira leaned closer, frowning. “You need to clean it before class. Infection’s not something you want to mess with, especially today.”

  I gave her a tired nod. She wasn’t wrong. Ignoring it wouldn’t make it go away—it would just give it time to get worse.

  “History first,” Willow said, dumping a disturbing amount of cream into her coffee. “Try not to fall asleep. If Irons catches me nodding off again, I’m dead.”

  The attempt at levity pulled a faint smile from me.

  “Professors don’t kill,” Mei said, grabbing a muffin and sitting with a sigh. “But Okami might.”

  I rolled my eyes, but the weight behind her words stuck. Okami didn’t have to kill to make a point. Everyone already knew where he stood.

  The toast was dry, the eggs rubbery, but I ate slowly, forcing my body to accept food after days of running on adrenaline and nerves. Around us, the conversation drifted—classes, gossip, subtle gripes about gear inspections and sleep schedules. For a moment, I let myself tune out and just exist. Just be a student. A girl surrounded by her Housemates, wrapped in morning quiet and routine.

  Even if I knew it wouldn’t last.

  The history wing smelled like old books and waxed floors, the walls lined with portraits of long-dead generals and scorched battlefields. Shadows from the tall windows stretched across the floor like cracks in glass.

  We filed into our usual seats, the worn wood creaking beneath us. I shifted carefully, arm still sore.

  Professor Irons was already at the front of the room, looming beside the blackboard like a monument. Tall and broad-shouldered, with graying hair combed back from a stern face, he wore his signature tweed jacket like armor. The kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to command a room.