19.1

"Make a sound, you're dead," Kalmin warned, crouching until his eyes locked with Gael’s. His scowl deepened as he stood and delivered a sharp kick to Gael’s shoulder, then accepted the incoming call with a swipe of his bloodied finger.
"That was fast. I expected it to take at least an hour."
"I thought it would take longer too," Nuri said with a soft laugh. "How’d it go with Gael?"
Kalmin glanced down. Gael was pressing trembling hands to the gash in his leg, blood slipping between his fingers. The carpet around him was ruined—soaked through from his many failed escape attempts. Kalmin looked at his own hands, red and slick.
"It went fine," he muttered, stepping into the bathroom and flicking on the light. Crimson streaked down his chin, and his reflection stared back at him with a cold, wild glint in its eyes. ‘I can’t let her see me like this. Tempest would throw a fit.’
‘I suppose I got a little carried away,’ Rian chuckled darkly. ‘You said I could have my fun—as long as I didn’t kill him.’
‘Fun doesn’t mean ripping a chunk out of his leg,’ Kalmin snapped. ‘He still has to fight Nuri in a trial. That wound’s going to raise questions.’
He yanked open Gael’s closet. Plaid. More plaid. Worn-out jeans. Not a single plain shirt. ‘Seriously?’
"How’d your meeting go?" he asked aloud, peeling off his ruined shirt.
"Oh, Moira gave me a stack of books and told me to start with the bylaws. Said we’ll meet weekly to test," Nuri answered, the low hum of her idling engine in the background. "Did you want me to head home or meet you somewhere?"
"Meet me at Murphy’s for lunch. I’ll be there in twenty."
"Okay, sounds good." Her voice clicked off.
‘You may as well take a shower,’ Rian said dryly as Kalmin scrubbed at his jaw. ‘You’re not wiping that off anytime soon.’
‘You think?’ Kalmin growled, tossing the bloodied cloth into the sink. He turned on the shower, stepped out, and found Gael in the kitchen—dragged halfway across the floor, now clutching a towel to his calf.
Kalmin crouched beside him, voice low. “Get to the hospital. You’re fighting my mate soon, and she’ll know if I hobbled you. I need you at one hundred percent. Fix yourself.”
‘See how smooth that was?’ Rian teased. ‘My mate.’ He repeated in a sing-song voice.
‘One of these days, I’m going to figure out how to punch you without punching myself.’
‘Mutual feeling,’ Rian smirked.
Kalmin stood beneath the hot spray, washing the blood from his skin as fast as he could, then dressed in Gael’s ridiculous flannel and jeans before slipping out of the house.
‘Why Murphy’s?’ Rian asked as they pulled into the parking lot.
"Why not?" Kalmin shrugged. "Best steak in town. And blood always gives me an appetite."
Nuri’s car was already there. He spotted her through the windshield, flipping through a book with a pen cap between her teeth.
‘She gets more beautiful every time we see her,’ Rian sighed, melting.
Kalmin knocked on her window. When she glanced up, he motioned toward the diner. "Learn anything interesting?"
"Kind of," Nuri said as they walked in together. "The bylaws didn’t explain much. They just made things more confusing."
She smiled politely at the waiter who led them to a booth, but Kalmin's expression soured when the guy handed her the menu a little too eagerly.
“She can read it on her own. Why don’t you go get her a cola—and I’ll take a beer,” Kalmin said sharply.
Nuri didn’t seem to notice. “It said there are two paths to joining the conclave—descendant or ascendant. Descendant means one of the founding five, right?"
"Right."
"So, are you a descendant?"
Kalmin laughed. “Ha! No. I’m an ascendant.” He paused as the waiter returned with their drinks, shooting him a glare that said don’t try me again. “Are you ready to order? Did you even look at the menu?”
“No, but that’s the benefit of having two brains,” Nuri grinned. “Tempest was deciding while I read. Spaghetti, please. Thank you!” She handed over the menu, then turned back to Kalmin with bright eyes.
“Steak. Medium,” Kalmin said, taking a sip of beer and adjusting his shirt.
Nuri’s brows pulled together. “Wait… did you go home and change?”
“No,” he said smoothly. “Borrowed an outfit from a beta.”
She looked like she might push the issue, but he kept talking.
“An ascendant earns their way into the conclave. I started at the bottom—as an omega.”
‘No way!’ Tempest gasped. ‘He just got so much hotter!’
"Tempest!" Nuri blurted, then rolled her eyes and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Please, go on."
Kalmin’s gaze flicked toward the window. “It’s one of the reasons I want to overturn the hybrid bylaws,” he said, voice quieter now, the edge of bitterness barely hidden. His fingers tightened around the bottle’s neck. “I think I forgot what I had to do—what it took to break free of my omega status. It’s not the same, not even close, but I do know what it’s like to be mocked, to be ridiculed… just for the family you were born into.”
He tipped his head back and drained half his beer. The flicker of pain behind his eyes didn’t go unnoticed.
Nuri leaned forward. “What did you have to do to ascend?”
“Prove my worth in every possible way. The same as you’ll have to do now.” His voice was steady, but his jaw was tight. “Top scores. Excellence in combat. And Tempest… she’ll have to prove her strength too. Like I said, you’ll be working three times harder than anyone else, just to prove you’re not the stereotype they’ve already decided you are.”
‘How do I prove my strength?’ Tempest asked softly.
“I understand,” Nuri said, setting her book aside just as the waiter returned with their food. She smiled politely and thanked him before turning back to Kalmin. “Moira said she’d be testing me weekly, but she didn’t mention how many weeks I’ll be buried under that mountain of books.”
“The weekly tests are to see how well you retain the material,” Kalmin replied. “Would it help if you had a deadline?”