It’s a good thing each lecture is available online. Tonight, I’ll re-listen and prepare for tomorrow. I can’t afford to fall behind—not when my father’s itching for another excuse to pull the rug out from underneath me. I know he’s scheming. I feel it. He’s come up with a new plan, one that will force me home before I can carve out my escape.
The rhythmic thud of Wilson’s pacing greets me as I approach the dining hall where we agreed to meet. He’s on the verge of a meltdown, his fists balled at his sides. When he sees me, he charges, a terrifying roar escaping his lips.
“What the fuck is going on?” His fingers dig into my arm, leaving a burning pressure that promises a deep purple bruise. “Did you tell my father I was cheating?”
“What are you talking about?” I try to shake him off, but his grip only tightens. “Please let go of me. You’re hurting my arm.”
“It seemssomeonehas informed my father I’ve been cheating.” His voice trembles with fury, eyes storming, jaw clenched until the muscles throb. “He ordered me home. Says I’ve got to transfer. And insisted that this thing between us is finished.”
“Have you been?” It slips out before I can stop myself from asking.
“What did you say?” Seething with anger, Wilson steps closer.
I’ll be honest, I’m frightened. I’ve never seen him so mad.
“Did you tell him that?” He’s in my face now, his voice just above a whisper. “I told you it wasn’t me who cheated. Kurt was the one who hacked the system and stole the tests. How was I to know that?”
Kurt’s his roommate. After a professor grew suspicious of why his grades improved, he set a trap. Wilson and a few others were caught up in the scandal, but because Kurt fessed up, the others were being closely watched. One mistake, and they would share Kurt’s fate—expulsion.
“I never said a word.” My steps falter in reverse, breath reverberating through the silence, until I collide with the unforgiving chill of the brick wall. “I swear.”
We’re now in a hidden spot, shielded from the prying eyes of passersby.
Looking up at him, I ask, “So, you’re leaving?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he snarls, a low growl rumbling in his chest, as he takes a menacing stride closer. “If I have to leave, so do you. I’m not about to let this hiccup ruin my plans. I was promised a life, and I will get that, Ingrid. One way or another, even if that means I have to use you to get it.”
Fear coils in my chest, but I refuse to let him see it. With a measured breath, I gather my strength, raising my voice, and give him no doubt about where I stand—or how this will go.
“My father called this morning. Informed me the agreement was no longer valid. Which means I’m free to make my own choices. I’m not choosing you.” My voice comes out stronger than I feel, and that strength only fuels Wilson’s rage.
Before I can react, his hand is around my throat, fingers tightening, cutting off my air supply. “You. Fucking. Bitch.”
Panic floods my senses.
“You really think you have a choice?” He gets right in my face, his breath like a poison I’m forced to breathe in. “You don’t.”
I grip his wrist, trying to relieve the pressure so I can breathe.
“Everyone has a choice,” I whisper.
The searing sting of his slap detonates across my cheek, his grip clamps tighter, the crack of the impact ringing in my ears.
“Not you.” His fist—or maybe his palm—cracks into my eye socket.
White-hot pain blinds me, shockwaves rattling through my skull as my vision blurs. “You will learn your place, Ingrid.”
I close my eyes, waiting for the next blow that never comes.
The sudden ability to breathe hits me like a wave, forcing my legs to give way beneath me. I stumble to the ground, landing on all fours as I suck in some much-needed air. Each inhale makes my lungs burn as searing pain shoots through the left side of my face.
I never thought Wilson had that in him. Guess I was wrong. It’s a good thing I’m no longer required to play nice.
Wait.
What the hell happened? Where is he?
Glancing up from my crouched position on the ground, I see Wilson is now the one pinned against the bricks. His feet dangling inches above the ground, held aloft by a man whose eyes burn with barely contained rage. His forearm presses firmly against his neck, choking him. Poor Wilson, his face now a ghastly blue, grunts in pain as a fist slams into his stomach, the impact jarring his whole body.
