I jolted awake only a while later, feeling overheated, and with sweat making my hair stick to my forehead. The bodies on the floor of the funeral parlor still flashed in front of my eyes and I squeezed them shut, trying to push it from my mind. It didn't help much. Once I was able to dispel that image, the image of my father's body lying on the academy's polished floor replaced it. Nausea settled in my stomach as my nose suddenly caught the acidic scent of spent gunpowder. It came on quickly and overwhelmingly. I felt like I could hear Kaz's steps walking toward me, toward the illusion of my father's body.

I gripped my hair, closing my eyes again, willing the image away, tucking my chin toward my neck. "Stop it. Stop it."

The smell only worsened. I could hear vague, muffled voices. Claude? Kieran? I felt paralyzed as the steps came closer, coming to a stop. I could feel my father's eyes on me, cold, but pleading.

"No!" I cried to myself slamming my palms into my head. "Just stop!"

Whether the pain startled me enough to end the vision, or my brain finally decided to cut me some slack, I managed to bring myself back to reality, surveying the now empty floor of my bedroom. Just plain, wooden floors. No blood caking them.

The faint smell of gunpowder remained though, setting me on edge. I sniffed the air and realized it was coming from my dress and remembered one of the vampires had set his gun off near me. The scent must have settled into the fabric.

I pushed myself off the bed, my legs feeling weak, and attempted to reach the zipper on the back of my dress to no avail. I would need help with it. I headed to the door, hoping someone was waiting outside it. Nadir, Adora, Claude. I didn't care at this point. I just wanted the dress off.

As I reached the door, I realized it was already open a crack. It made me pause for a moment, a little annoyed. They didn't even trust me enough to leave me alone to sleep? Had someone been watching me? The irritation didn't compare to the illness I felt at the smell of my dress, so I shoved it inside, moving to open the door.

"When are we going to tell Cleo?"

I stopped. That was Adora's voice. I held my breath, trying to remain still and silent.

"She's still recovering... we shouldn't tell her."

San, this time.

"We can't keep lying to her."

"We need to get her to trust us again first."

My stomach rolled. What were they talking about? They were lying to me about something? About what?

"I can't lie to her about her father," Adora said, sounding near tears. "It's not right, San. You saw how easily she forgave us."

"I know," San said immediately. "I know, Adora. But you know what Claude said."

"Still—"

"It's important for Cleo to trust us first. We just need to keep doing what we have been. It's working."

I felt like I was being suffocated. What were they saying? Were they trying to trick me again? Was everything they'd said to me up until this point a lie? Why? Did this mean they actually were involved in my father's death? Had they really all betrayed me in such a cruel way? It couldn't be possible. They'd promised—

"You know what happened at the academy had to happen no matter what. She doesn't need to know all the details. Let's just listen to what Kaz says. Cleo's family will die—"

I stumbled back, horrified. "No... No..."

I couldn't believe my ears. I didn't want to. What were they planning? To kill my family, like Kaz said they would? They really planned to get rid of the entire Levant family line? And they were going to lie to me in the process? For what? To have me lead them to my sister? My mother? I would never do that.

Why was this happening? I'd trusted them only to be betrayed, and then decided to give them the benefit of the doubt and trust them again only for this to happen?

My body shook so badly I could barely walk as I staggered back to my bed, a bone-chilling cold coming over me. I grabbed my head again, my fingers pulling hard at my hair, trying to get the pain to ground me. I should have never trusted them again. Why had I believed them so easily? Why did I open myself back up to them again?

I wanted to run. To run and never look back. I wanted to be with my family. I needed to protect them. But I couldn't. My father was dead. I was trapped. I was alone.

I was a prisoner. I would stay here and suffer. I would have to face those who were once my friends continue to lie to me. I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling so cold. I almost wished I hadn't heard them. I could have lived in ignorance. But their secrets would have come out, eventually. All secrets did. Especially ones that resulted in someone's death.

I took a few steps toward the door again. Even if I wanted to run, could I get past San and Adora? Who else was out there? But I didn't want to stay in this room. I didn't want to stay in this dress. I couldn't even ask for help to take it off. I would never ask for help from them again. I grit my teeth together, tears burning behind my eyelids again.

Once again I felt the yearning to be comforted, but there was no one to reach out to. Even Felix had left me behind. I didn't have anyone, yet I didn't want to be alone. I felt like I was going to go insane. I wanted to scream and cry and tear up the room, but I knew that wouldn't change anything. Nothing would. I was on my own. The thought was enough to cancel out all the other feelings raging through me, leaving me full of numbness instead.

I laid back down on my bed, turning my head to stare blankly out the window. For how everyone always told me how awful my father was, I couldn't believe they could do this to me. How was this different? I was still locked up. And how was the emotional pain inflicted different than the physical pain from before?

I shut my eyes, curling up, trying to fend off the piercing chill. Why even bother to think about it? I was used to this. I'd stupidly fallen for their tricks again. It was all my fault, anyway. Maybe this was what I deserved. For being such an idiot. Maybe if I fell asleep, I could just not wake up, and make it once less Levant for them to destroy.

I didn't remember falling asleep, but a soft touch on my forehead woke me up. I jolted up, startled, my heart racing in my chest as I took in my surroundings. No longer was I inside my dream where people were screaming and dying and being shot left and right, but instead, I was in my room at Claude's estate. Beside me, Claude sat on my bed, dark circles under his eyes, watching me quietly. The hair that he had gelled back earlier in the day had now fallen into a mess over his forehead. His suit was rumpled, tie hanging loose around his neck. His neck that had smears of dried blood over it.

"Are you hurt?" I asked groggily without thinking, but reality set in fast, and I immediately regretted it. Claude didn't deserve my concern. But my hand still rose as if to inspect the wound until I pulled it forcibly back down.

"It's not my blood," he assured me.

My heart rate picked up again, my hands clutching at the comforters I'd fallen asleep on. Seeing the blood reminded me of everything that happened at the funeral parlor and how I'd wanted to ask for an update about those at the funeral parlor before I'd heard San and Adora's conversation. I knew I shouldn't even bother talking to Claude— he had to be on their plans. He was the king. But still, I had to know. I had to know who died at the funeral parlor. "Then whose blood is it? Who died? Esin's father? What happened? Tell me—"

Claude took my hands, gently unfurling them from the comforter, and holding them in his own. "No one died, Cleo. We managed to get everyone medical attention in time."

"You're lying to me," I stated coldly. "Just tell me the truth. I need to know. I can handle it."

His hands tightened on me. "I'm not lying."

I wanted to believe his words, but couldn't. My mind wouldn't let me. I couldn't trust Claude. It made the cold feel worse like it was burrowing into my bones. "Where's Nadir?"

Claude's eyebrows pinched together. "Why would you be looking for him?"

"I need to make sure."

Claude's expression fell as he recognized my distrust, and he released my hands, standing up. For a second, I thought I'd made him so mad he was just going to leave, but after a second of searching his pockets, he produced his cell phone. He sat back down on the bed, but this time closer to me so I could see him pull up Nadir's contact. I watched as he hit the call button and then turned the speakerphone on.

Nadir answered on the first ring. "Yes?"

"Are all the funeralgoers still recovering well?" Claude asked. "You're at the hospital still, correct?"

"Yes, everyone is recovering. Only positive progress."

Claude turned to me, regarding me with what felt like irritation. "Satisfied?"

I ignored him, trying to decide if I could believe Nadir. He would be in on everything, too, but would telling me everyone survived when in reality they didn't be beneficial to them in any way? Could I just accept that everyone was actually okay? Even those who were scattered across the floor unconscious? Was it even possible they were okay?

I put those thoughts to a stop. Was I hoping I'd hear someone died? I didn't think there was any reason for Nadir to lie to me about this so I nodded at Claude. The cold feeling still remained, though. I thought I'd feel better, but I didn't.

"Feel free to call me for updates, Cleo," Nadir said.

Nadir addressing me personally caught me off guard, and I nodded again, even though he couldn't see me. If he was offering more updates, maybe he was actually telling the truth. Maybe everyone really was okay. I could put any doubt to rest.

"Is that all, Claude?"

"Yes," Claude said simply. "Thank you, Nadir."

As Claude hung up and tossed his phone aside, I kept waiting for a sense of relief that never came. Too much else had happened. I could be content with knowing no one was grievously injured, but everything else weighed too heavy in my heart. The fear, the vampire's— Keaton's— words, my fight with Felix, Adora, and San's lies. Even Claude being here with me set me on edge.

Claude sucked in a sharp breath of air suddenly and I turned to him just as he brought a hand up to my cheek where I'd been backhanded, brushing this thumb against it softly. "You're injured."

I winced slightly as his thumb touched a sensitive spot and I pushed his hand away. "I'm fine."

"Did you clean it? There's a cut."

"I'm fine," I repeated tensely.

Claude frowned at me. "Cleo. You're still recuperating from your injuries. What if this gets infected? Your body is already fighting off enough."

Why do you care? I wanted to ask. But what was the point? What would I get out of it? Lies? The truth that I wouldn't believe? And beyond that, if I did believe him, what if I was being deceived again?

I'd wanted to talk Claude all this time. I'd had so many questions. And now that he was here, I didn't know what to do. I wouldn't believe his words. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want his concern.

I don't want your concern.

My words to Felix echoed in my mind and a painful tightness formed in my throat again. I wished he was here. I was so tired of arguing. I was so tired of crying. I was so tired of hurting. And Claude sitting here just reminded me of it all. He was the catalyst for everything. So how could he just sit here and act as if he cared about me?

"It could end up being dangerous," Claude said quietly. "I don't want to see you hurt anymore."

"I hope it does get infected," I said, whipping my head around to face him, barely able to see through the sudden rage I felt. "I hope I just die so everyone can be happy with knowing they've killed off the entire Levant family! Then there will be a grave for Felix to lay flowers on and I wouldn't have to feel like this! Do whatever you want and I'll do whatever I want! Even if it's dying."

Claude abruptly stood up again, his features turning into marble, his nostrils flaring. "Get up, Cleo."

I remained where I was, ignoring him, trying to stop my trembling. I didn't have to listen to him. I wouldn't again.

"If you already hate me, then I suppose it doesn't matter what I do."

Hate? The term rattled me. I—

A firm grip on my upper arm dragged me out of my bed. I barely caught myself, trying to get my footing as Claude began to haul me across the room. I struggled in his hold, trying to get him to release me. "What are you doing? Let me go!"

He kicked open the door to my bathroom and pulled me inside, slamming the door behind him. When he released me, I moved for the door, but he immediately put himself between me and it, blocking my way. I stopped, glaring at him as I watched him lock the door.

"What are you doing?" I repeated.

He returned my glare with an even look as he approached me again. "Doing whatever I want."

I fell back as he approached until my back hit the furthest wall of the bathroom, right next to the medicine cabinet. Claude followed my every step, so close, that as I bumped up against the cold tile wall, his chest nearly met mine. My breath caught in my throat as he brought his hand to my face again, holding my jaw far more gently than I expected given his intimidating actions. "Claude—"

His eyes narrowed at the cut on my cheek. "I suppose whoever hurt you forgot it's a crime to touch royalty."

"I'm not royalty."

His golden gaze pierced into mine. "In my eyes, you are. And my word is the law."

I swallowed hard as Claude released my jaw, but didn't back away. He leaned over toward the medicine cabinet, opening it, and taking out the supplies Nadir or Sura usually used to clean my other wounds. I tried not to breathe hard, wanting to keep as much space between Claude and myself as possible, even though there wasn't that much to begin with.

Even with little to no space, Claude somehow managed to get the supplies he needed ready, and as he pressed a wet cotton ball to my cheek to clean up the dried blood, I closed my eyes, attempting to ignore him.

But I soon found it was impossible to ignore his overwhelming body heat, the faint scent of his cologne, the soft, balmy puffs of his breath on my skin. Every brush of his fingertips sent shivers down my spine. He was so gentle. A gentleness I craved and found hard not to focus on at the moment, despite my earlier thoughts of not wanting his concern.

I didn't understand myself. I didn't want Claude near me, but I did want him near me. I didn't want to fight with Felix, but I did fight with him. I didn't want San and Adora to betray me again, but I also wanted to forgive them again. Here, with Claude being so gentle, it reminded me of how things used to be— back at the academy, before all this happened. When I thought everyone was my friend and that we'd do anything for each other.

I didn't want to suffer anymore, but I did want myself to suffer. So many people suffered because of me. Would my suffering make up for everyone else's suffering? Would my pain? Was it not enough to lose my father, the one who caused everyone else's pain and suffering? Should I suffer more? But why did I think I had to?

When I opened my eyes again, I realized Claude had finished cleaning my cut, but he hadn't moved away. He remained where he was, hand on my cheek, gazing at me with an indecipherable expression. I didn't move, either, staring right back at him.

"Please," he started, his voice rough with emotion, "don't ever speak of dying so lightly again, Cleo."

My fingers ached as if I wanted to reach out and touch him, to reassure him. "Why do you care?" I said instead, wetting my dry lips unthinkingly.

His gaze dropped to my lips momentarily, his own parting slightly. He stepped closer to me, pressing into me, his arms on either side of, imprisoning me completely. His head dipped down, and I froze, my head getting hazy, but I didn't turn away. But instead of kissing me as I thought he would, his face went into the crook of my neck, his lips ghosting the skin there. I shivered as he took a deep breath, breathing me in.

I tried to calm my heart, afraid he'd hear my pulse through my skin with how hard it rushed through my ears. He moved, his lips and nose ghosting a trail on my skin as he raised his head so our eyes could meet again, but level this time, his nose nearly brushing mine, his lips so close, close enough where if I just moved a fraction of an inch forward...

"What can I do for you to trust me again?" Claude whispered, his body unmoving, eyes wanting.

I was almost afraid to speak, his lips were so close, but I found my voice. "N-nothing." I needed to push him away. I couldn't let him close to me again. I couldn't trust him.

"I care about you, Cleo. Thoroughly and furiously. I know I have hurt you, and I've done so much wrong, but I still care for you. I will prove it to you over and over. Again and again, until you're satisfied. Or until you tell me to leave. Which would you prefer?"

It was hard to focus. He was too close. While his tone didn't betray the vulnerability in his words, his eyes did. Pleading, desperate, but also so filled with a hunger I couldn't place. I fought to deny his words— he didn't care about me, I know he didn't— but I had my own desperation at this moment. To be cared for. To be comforted. To be with someone. Even if it was Claude... Everything felt cold lately, but he stood firm and warm in front of me. It was so hard to fight. I just didn't want to feel like this. At least for a little bit.

"Prove it," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Claude leaned into me, closing the barely-there distance between us, meeting my lips in a soft, hesitant kiss. My eyes closed as he tilted his head to the side, giving me another ghost of a kiss before he pulled back again. I opened my eyes to find him observing me again, eyes dark, and swirling with conflicted motions. I wondered if mine looked the same.

A part of me knew I shouldn't do this. But the other part, the desperate part, just didn't care.