2025-06-01 07:27:08The morning class was a blur of economics terms Isaiah barely understood, with his mind still reeling from yesterday’s event.
Suddenly, the roar of a high-performance engine shattered the quiet ambiance of the campus. A sleek and cherry-red Porsche screeched to a halt directly in front of the classroom building with its polished surface gleaming in the mid-morning sun. Every head in the lecture hall snapped towards the windows.
“It’s Walter!” Someone whispered, followed by a ripple of excited murmurs.
“And Jules!” Another voice added, louder.
A chant began. It was low at first, then it grew in volume.
Walter and Jules! Walter and Jules! Hottest couple! Walter and Jules!”
The classroom door swung open with a dramatic flair. Walter Sterns, who was impeccably dressed, strolled in with an arm wrapped possessively around Jules Norvel’s waist. Jules, blushing under the attention, was basking in the cheers. She had her hair perfectly done in order to look perfect and highlight her dazzling smile. They were the undisputed king and queen of the campus social scene, and they made sure everyone knew it.
Walter, who was still holding Jules close, walked her down the aisle, passing rows of adoring students and directly towards the front of the class. Her seat, by some cruel twist of fate, was right in front of Isaiah’s.
Isaiah kept his gaze fixed on his textbook, a dense tome on microeconomics. He traced a line of text with his finger and pretended to not see the couple. He would not give them the satisfaction of getting his attention so he made sure not to look up.
Walter, however, was clearly not content with being ignored. He stopped beside Jules’s desk, directly in front of Isaiah. He leaned down, pulled Jules closer, and kissed her. A long, exaggerated, and open-mouthed kiss. Right there. And as he did, his eyes flickered, meeting Isaiah’s downcast face. He was making sure Isaiah saw it and felt it.
The class erupted in whistles and cheers.
Isaiah’s grip tightened on his book. He could feel the heat rising in his neck, but he forced himself to stay still and to breathe. “Don’t react. Don’t react,” he thought to himself.
Walter pulled away from Jules with a triumphant smirk on his face. Then, with a theatrical flourish, he lifted Jules into his arms, a move clearly designed for maximum impact. And then, he dropped her, not so gently, onto Isaiah’s desk.
Books, pens, and papers scattered across the floor with a loud clatter. Isaiah’s economics textbook slid off and landed with a thud, with its spine bending at an unnatural angle.
Isaiah’s head snapped up, his carefully constructed composure shattering. “Hey! What the hell, Walter? Look what you did!” he yelled, his voice raw with sudden fury. He pointed at his scattered books and then at the bent spine of his textbook.
The cheers of the class transformed into mocking laughter.
“Aw, is Fetch-Boy jealous?” A voice from the back called out.
“Looks like someone’s still hung up on Jules!” Another taunted.
Walter stepped back, his smirk widening. “I would be careful if I were you, Fetch-Boy. If I hadn’t already reported your little stunt to my insurance company, the one that insured the twenty-grand ring I got for Jules that you lost. I’d have you beaten to a stupor right here. So count yourself lucky.”
Isaiah pushed himself out of his seat, his eyes blazing. He didn’t care about the insurance, or the ring, or the class. He didn’t care about anything but the sheer and deliberate malice of the act. “Get the hell out of my sight, Walter! And take your cheap trophy with you! I don’t give a damn about you, or your insurance company, or that pathetic ring!”
Walter’s face flushed, his eyes narrowing to slits. His jaw tightened. “What did you just say to me?” He stepped forward, nose to nose with Isaiah, his hands clenching into fists. The air crackled with tension. It was clear he was ready to fight.
Just then, the classroom door opened again, and Jenny Reeds stepped in, her eyes sweeping over the chaotic scene. Her gaze landed on Walter and Isaiah, whose faces were inches apart, and then on Jules, who was still perched on Isaiah’s desk, looking smug.
“Walter! Jules!” Jenny’s voice cut through the murmuring class, sharp and authoritative. “What in the world is going on here?”
She walked purposefully towards them, her eyes fixed on Jules. “Jules, if you and your boyfriend don’t behave yourselves, I will personally see to it that you are removed from the beauty ambassador contest with FrontView Talent Agency. Do I make myself clear?”
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Chapter 341
The observation deck was quiet now—too quiet after the alarms had finally died. The station’s viewport stretched wide and black, the golden shimmer on the horizon no longer a distant pulse but a steady, encroaching glow. Isaiah stood alone at the railing, hands resting on the cool metal, frost tracing faint patterns where his fingers touched. The rest of the bay had emptied: soldiers to their posts, trainees to their quarters, Nero and Ragnar to whatever urgent briefing Noirman had called. Even Elena had slipped away after her confession, taking Kate with her.For the first time in hours, or maybe days, he was alone with his thoughts. He stared at the approaching light and weighed it.What were the pros of fighting. The station had firepower. Shields. Trained personnel. His team—Ruko, Spiff, Fen, the outcasts—had already proven they’d die for him. V'He could win. The frost came easier now, stronger. He could feel it in his bones: whatever the Zortox had left in him, it answered when
Chapter 340
The grand foyer of the Bradley mansion felt smaller than it ever had—high ceilings pressing down, crystal chandelier throwing fractured light across marble floors like broken promises. The family stood in a loose, uneven circle: Nathan near the staircase, arms crossed, jaw tight; Jenny supporting Ashley, who leaned heavily against her, blood still crusted at her temple; Luke and Jackson flanking them like silent sentinels; Fayour hovering near the edge of the group, eyes red and darting; Anthony at the center, charcoal suit rumpled now, silver hair catching the chandelier glow; Julia a step behind him, black dress immaculate but hands clasped so tightly her knuckles showed white.No one had sat. No one had moved to clean Ashley’s wound. The air smelled of old wood polish, jasmine from the open windows, and the faint copper tang of blood.Anthony spoke first, voice low, measured, but carrying the weight of years.“The Bureau took Isaiah,” he said. “The Universal Bureau of Magic. They’v
Chapter 339:
The Bradley mansion loomed at the end of the long private drive like a dark monument carved from money and secrets. Floodlights washed the white stone facade in cold blue-white, turning the manicured lawns into flat, artificial green. Nathan killed the engine in the circular driveway, tires crunching on gravel. The silence that followed was louder than the drive had been.He stepped out first. Jenny followed from the passenger side. Luke and Jackson climbed out of the back, doors closing with soft, expensive thuds. The night air smelled of cut grass, night-blooming jasmine, and something metallic. Blood, perhaps, or just the promise of it.The front doors opened before they reached the steps. Fayour stood there. Blond hair disheveled, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, eyes red-rimmed and wide. He looked younger than Nathan remembered, like the nineteen-year-old he actually was instead of the polished heir he’d been trained to play.“Nathan—”Nathan moved past him without stoppi
Chapter 338
The back field felt suddenly too open, too exposed under the darkness of the night. The dying oak cast a thin, jagged shadow that sprawled across the grass. Jenny sat on the broken bench, knees drawn up, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands as the temperature had dropped. Luke stood rigid beside her, arms folded so tightly his biceps strained against his shirt. Jackson leaned against the trunk of the oak, one boot propped on a root, trying to look casual while his eyes kept darting between Nathan and the distant campus buildings.Nathan had just crushed the earpiece under his heel. The small skin colored shards lay scattered in the dirt like broken teeth. He was opening his mouth to speak when his phone buzzed again.He pulled it out. It was Fayour. The name on the screen hit him like a cold fist to the sternum.He answered on the first ring, speaker off, phone pressed hard to his ear. “Fayour.”A ragged inhale on the other end, then a voice so choked it barely sounded like his young
Chapter 337
The red emergency lights still pulsed like a dying heartbeat. Isaiah stood at the center, frost still clinging to the edges of his sleeves. Elena faced him, calm as ever, the faint glimmer in her emerald eyes now unmistakable, like captured starlight.No one had moved since her admission.Then the bay doors hissed open again.Kate entered.She was a storm in human form—broad-shouldered, dark-haired, eyes the color of storm clouds. She wore the same black tactical gear as always, but tonight it seemed tighter, sharper, as though her body had already decided violence was inevitable. She took one look at the scene, Elena standing too close to Isaiah, Ragnar’s hand hovering near his sidearm, Nero braced like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and her expression shifted from watchful to feral.In the next heartbeat she charged.She moved like a blade through water, silent, lethal, unstoppable. Her right hand came up in a slicing arc that could have taken a head clean off at the shou
Chapter 336
The training bay still smelled of scorched metal and ozone. Melted rifle barrels lay in twisted heaps near the walls, cooling with faint metallic pings. The frost Isaiah had summoned lingered in thin sheets across the deck, glittering under the red emergency lights like shattered glass. No one moved to clean it. No one moved at all.Soldiers stood frozen in half-raised postures, rifles lowered but fingers still curled around grips. Ruko’s tattoos had dimmed to a dull silver flicker; Spiff kept flexing and unflexing his hands as though testing they still worked. Fen stared at the empty center of the bay where the Zortox had stood, mouth slightly open.Isaiah remained where he had faced them, five feet from nothing now, hands loose at his sides. The frost on his fingertips had retreated, but the cold still rolled off him in slow waves.Nero jumped down from the observation platform, boots thudding against the deck. He walked straight to Isaiah, stopping just short of the lingering ice.
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