Dimitri watched Rose walk away, her shoulders hunched and her steps slow, weighed down by something he couldn't see but could almost feel. When he'd brought her here, he'd believed he could give her a safe place, somewhere she could start to heal, regain her strength. But it had been weeks now, and today she looked worse than when she'd first arrived. The sight made his gut twist with helpless anger.

Without another thought, he turned back toward his office. He pushed through the door without knocking, his patience already frayed. There, still seated as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, was Drakovich, calmly turning the pages of a file.

"What the hell was that?" Dimitri's voice came out sharper than he intended.

Drakovich didn't even look up, turning another page with a languid flick of his fingers. "I didn't expect her to be that pretty," he remarked casually, as though they were discussing nothing more than the weather. "Even with the scars and all. She has… presence."

Dimitri's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. Drakovich was well aware of his reaction, but the man merely continued, a sly smile playing at his lips as he finally met Dimitri's glare.

"Oh, come on, Dimitri," he said, his tone teasing. "You have to admit she's striking. Though 'pretty' doesn't quite capture it, does it?" His gaze sharpened, his voice dropping. "She's got the air of a wolf—feral, untamed. A beauty that promises victory, if you're strong enough to earn it."

Dimitri felt his pulse hammer in his ears, his restraint nearing its limit. He could practically feel Drakovich testing him, savoring his reaction. "Keep your observations to yourself," he said, his tone low, barely controlled. "You said this was a routine interview, not a psychological evaluation."

Drakovich scoffed, snapping the file shut. "I'd hardly call it that, Belikov," he replied, sounding almost offended. "I simply wanted to see how she'd react. And, frankly, I'm impressed. She didn't give an inch."

Dimitri took a step closer, his voice a dangerous growl. "'So you do think it was a mistake. That your hesitation cost lives,'" he quoted, his anger barely contained. "Are you serious?"

Drakovich raised an eyebrow, leaning back with an air of amusement. "She seemed to take it well enough," he replied nonchalantly, eyes gleaming as he watched Dimitri's reaction.

"You read the reports, you spoke to her doctors—you know what she's been through," Dimitri shot back, his voice taut with barely restrained fury. "You saw the aftermath. How could you even ask something like that?"

Drakovich shrugged, his smile infuriatingly calm. "Belikov, she survived that carnage. My questions won't break her." He paused, leaning forward with an almost conspiratorial air. "She's tougher than you're giving her credit for. Or are you worried that she might actually be as strong as she looks?"

Dimitri's hands twitched, every instinct urging him to smash Drakovich's face on his desk. But he held himself back, keeping his expression cold. "Of course, you wouldn't understand. Not from the comfort and privilege of a Moroi."

Drakovich chuckled softly, as if the jab amused him. "Careful, Belikov. I might start thinking you're getting attached." He stood slowly, his movements precise, measured, never breaking eye contact. "You brought her here, yes? You wanted to test her limits just as much as I do. Or do you think she's too fragile to handle it?"

Drakovich's expression turned serious, his amusement fading. "And there's a difference between a typical Guardian and… whatever Hathaway is. We both know she's not ordinary. You saw how she responded to the wards." His eyes gleamed with a sharp, almost predatory interest. "She felt them. That's not something Dhampirs typically do."

Dimitri crossed his arms, his gaze steady, guarded. "What are you getting at?"

Drakovich's smile returned, though this time it was tinged with genuine intrigue. "I think you already know. A Dhampir shouldn't be able to sense magic as strongly as she does. And yet, Hathaway felt the wards weakening—before anyone else. She has… potential. Potential I'm inclined to explore."

Dimitri's expression darkened. "Potential? You're treating her like an experiment."

"Not an experiment," Drakovich corrected, his voice softening, almost reverent. "An anomaly. One that might change everything we know about the boundaries of magic and bloodlines."

Dimitri's jaw tightened, every instinct screaming at him to protect Rose from whatever scheme Drakovich was plotting. "She's not an anomaly. She's a Guardian."

Drakovich's smile widened, undeterred. "And a remarkable one at that. Which is precisely why I intend to make sure she reaches her full… potential." He closed the file with a soft snap, his gaze lingering on Dimitri. "After all, wouldn't you agree that someone with her instincts—her ability to sense magic—is worth… investigating?"

Dimitri's fists clenched. "Rose has been through enough. You've already pushed her to her limits."

Drakovich's gaze hardened, his smile fading. "Limits are only known when tested, Dimitri. And Hathaway's might just be farther than anyone expected."

The two men stared each other down, the air between them thick with tension, an unspoken warning hanging in the silence. Dimitri forced himself to remain calm, but inside, his resolve solidified.

"Very well, then," Drakovich said finally, his voice light once more. "I'll leave you to it, Captain. Make sure our guardian is… prepared for what's to come. We wouldn't want her to waste that potential."

Without waiting for a response, Drakovich turned, striding out of the office with the same casual ease, leaving Dimitri alone with his thoughts and a storm of unspoken questions.

As the door closed, Dimitri exhaled, the tension in his body slowly unraveling. He knew Drakovich wouldn't let this go, not when it came to someone like Rose. But he made a silent promise to himself: whatever "potential" Drakovich saw in Rose, he would be there to keep her safe from becoming another weapon in their endless game.

Dimitri sat at his desk, Rose's file open before him, each page a fragment of her life, laid bare in clinical, unfeeling detail. Her history unfolded under his gaze—every mission report, every training assessment, medical records detailing injuries he could only imagine. Some pages were smudged with notes in margins, little annotations that only served to reduce each brutal detail to a matter of duty.

The contrast between the fierce, resilient woman he saw each day and the inked lines on these pages was unsettling. Here, she was stripped down to dates, times, actions, and consequences, each word failing to capture the fire that burned behind her eyes. But one thing was clear: she'd endured more than most Guardians twice her age.

A note caught his attention, marked in neat, formal handwriting—a psychological assessment conducted just after the Budapest massacre. The words were almost painfully detached: "Subject displays signs of trauma… likely dissociative episodes, yet retains remarkable composure in the face of adversity." There was a faintly inked note in the margin: "High resilience, possibly a latent sensitivity to magical energies?"

He frowned, running his fingers over the words. The idea of a Dhampir with sensitivity to magic was almost unheard of. And yet, she'd mentioned sensing something wrong with the wards, a shift in their strength that night. It wasn't the first time she'd displayed a heightened instinct for danger, but this was… different.

The memory of Drakovich's words lingered in his mind, prickling at him. Imagine what she could do with a little guidance, a little… honing. As much as he loathed the man's smug assumptions, the implications were impossible to ignore. If Rose truly possessed this sensitivity, it would change everything.

But the thought of putting her through more, forcing her into situations that would exploit this potential, left a bitter taste in his mouth. Hadn't she already sacrificed enough?

There was a soft knock at his door, and a younger Guardian stepped inside, snapping to attention. "Captain Belikov," he said, standing tall with the eager posture of someone fresh from training. "Report from the perimeter checks."

Dimitri gave a brief nod, gesturing for him to continue. "Go ahead, Marcus."

"No disturbances tonight, but there was an unusual energy fluctuation in the wards by the north boundary."

Dimitri frowned, straightening up. "Did anyone log this fluctuation?"

"Yes, sir," Marcus replied. "Guardian Castille noted it around one-thirty a.m., but it normalized within minutes. He suspects it might be interference from the recent upgrades."

Dimitri's fingers tapped against the map thoughtfully. "Did anyone report a similar fluctuation recently?"

Marcus hesitated. "Yes, sir. The last one was recorded a week ago—Guardian Hathaway and Guardian Celeste were on patrol when they found… the cat."

Dimitri's gaze sharpened. "The same location?"

"Yes, Captain. Same location, around the same time of night."

Dimitri's focus intensified as he traced a line along the map, from the point of the disturbance back toward the main grounds. It was unlike the wards to fluctuate without a clear source of interference, especially twice within such a short period.

"Next time, I want a team stationed at the north boundary. Notify Castille that I expect a full report, no matter how minor the fluctuation seems," he said.

"Yes, sir." Marcus's expression sobered as he asked, "Captain… do you think there's a risk of a breach?"

Dimitri's face remained impassive, but his gaze turned steely. "I don't take chances. Whether it's a genuine threat or an anomaly, we treat it with the same seriousness."

The young Guardian nodded, his posture straightening as he absorbed Dimitri's words. "Understood, Captain."

Dimitri dismissed him with a nod, and as the door closed, he looked back at the file. His instincts, honed from years in the field, told him that something was amiss, something that hadn't shown itself fully yet. He couldn't ignore the coincidence of these disturbances—especially not when they involved Rose.

The Academy had always been a safe haven, a place of learning, training, and protection for young Moroi and Dhampirs. But Dimitri knew that peace was fragile. He'd seen enough in the field, faced enough Strigoi ambushes, to understand that safety was an illusion—one he and his team worked tirelessly to maintain.

He took a steadying breath, letting the quiet settle his focus. The protection of the students and Guardians within these walls was his responsibility, and he would not allow even the slightest risk to slip past him.

He turned his gaze to the desk where Rose's file lay, still open. Drakovich's words echoed in his mind, stirring a cold determination within him. If there was something lurking on the outskirts of the Academy—something targeting its vulnerabilities, possibly even Rose herself—Dimitri would be ready.

Dimitri was about to stand up when his phone rang sharply, cutting through the silence of the office. He grabbed it, recognizing the secure line from Central Command. "Belikov here," he answered, his voice already adopting the tone of command he reserved for emergencies.

"Captain, it's Code Red. We've just received reports of a Strigoi attack on the Badica Residence, 20 miles west of the Academy," the voice on the other end said, clipped and urgent.

Dimitri's hand tightened on the receiver. "When did this happen?" he asked, moving to the window, his eyes scanning the horizon where the first faint light of dawn was starting to paint the sky.

"Minutes ago, sir," the operator replied, the gravity of the situation palpable even through the phone. "We're mobilizing units now, but…"

"That's impossible," Dimitri interjected, his gaze fixed on the brightening horizon. "We're too close to sunrise. How could Strigoi launch an attack now?"

"It's been confirmed, sir. They're still on the scene. Response teams are en route."

Dimitri's mind raced, calculating the risks, the timing. "Any survivors?"

"None confirmed yet, sir. We need you here, Belikov."

He swallowed, a hard knot forming in his throat. This didn't make sense; Strigoi were ruthless, but they weren't foolish. They wouldn't risk an attack so close to daybreak unless... unless something had changed. Something critical.

"I'm on my way." Dimitri hung up, his thoughts already shifting into tactical mode. He grabbed his coat and weapon, his movements swift and precise. As he stepped out of his office, he could feel the weight of the day ahead, a day that had just taken a potentially catastrophic turn.

The sun's rays crept over the horizon, casting long shadows across the Academy grounds. Dimitri looked back once, towards the dormitories where Rose and the others were housed. Whatever was happening at the Badica Residence, it was a grim reminder of the threats lurking just beyond the light.

With a brisk pace, he set off, his mind running through scenarios. The stakes were higher than ever, and the game had changed. As he drove towards the site of the attack, Dimitri knew the coming hours would test them all.