16. Savanna
Savanna
When I knock on Dr. Ellison’s door, I’m still wearing a goofy grin on my face from thinking about Niki.
I’m freaking out about my paper, but not even that can dampen how happy I feel right now.
I love knowing he’s right outside waiting for me.
I can easily picture him, hoodie and sunglasses on, hair tousled from running a hand through it, laptop already open while his fingers fly across the keyboard.
He probably has his brows furrowed, too, like I’ve noticed he does when he’s trying to puzzle something out.
I’m lost in thoughts of him when the door swings open and Dr. Ellison waves me in.
“I’m glad you could make it so quickly,” he says, motioning for me to take a seat in one of the large leather chairs in front of his huge, cherry wood desk.
His office has always felt homey to me. Bookshelves line the walls, all of them stuffed to the brim, and there are family pictures on his desk showing his wife and kids from one of their many vacations to the beach.
His wife is beautiful and only in her thirties.
Dr. Ellison always talks about her like she’s his whole world, says she’s the best thing to ever happen to him.
Their boys are all in their teens, and in the photo closest to me they’re laughing and tossing each other into the water.
“I don’t understand about my paper,” I tell him while I dig through my bag so I can pull it up on my laptop. “How is my reference bad?”
“I had such high hopes for you,” he says from behind me, and my heart drops at his words.
“What do you mean?” I use the trackpad that Niki taught me how to use properly and open my paper.
“It’s just a reference issue, right? Can’t I just find a new one and change it?
I know it’ll be a pain, but I can get it done,” I tell him, worried that I’ve somehow disappointed him to the point where he no longer wants to be my advisor.
“Do you even know who your boyfriend is?”
Surprised by his question, I turn my head to look at him. “What?”
He’s already shut the door and is leaning casually against it. “Your boyfriend? Do you even know who he really is? What his family does?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, not understanding what’s going on but knowing there’s no way in hell I’ll ever say a word against Niki or his family.
It isn’t until his mouth starts to turn up into a cruel grin that I realize something is very off with my professor.
I thought he was just concerned and sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong, but there’s something cruel about the way he’s looking at me, something vicious and cold that makes every instinct I have scream at me to get the hell out of here.
Keeping my eyes on his, I slowly start to move my hand to the bag that’s still sitting in my lap.
My phone is in the front pocket. If I can text Niki, or even call him, then he’ll come and get me.
I don’t know what the hell is going on with my professor, but I’d rather figure it out when I’m not stuck in a room with him all by myself.
“I can’t believe you’re fucking Nikita Melnikov,” he says, and I flinch at the hatred in his tone, my hand momentarily stilling.
“What?” I say again. “I don’t understand what’s going on here, Dr. Ellison.”
I start to slide my hand a little closer to the front pocket of my bag when he pushes off from the door, moving with a quickness that takes me by complete surprise. In seconds, his hands are around my wrists and he’s kneeling in front of me.
“You were supposed to be mine,” he hisses. “Not his.”
My body goes still at his words as everything clicks together with a horrible slowness and precision. All the signs I misread, the interest he took in me that I mistook for mentoring, the friendly smiles and conversation—they all take on a more sinister tone and slam into me at once.
“You’re Cupid,” I whisper, feeling like I’m about to be sick.
The grin he gives me is one I hope to never see again. There’s no warmth in it. The man I knew is no longer here. I’m guessing he never existed. The man staring at me right now is a monster.
“I see your little boyfriend told you about me.” The cruel grin playing at his lips turns into an evil smile. “He’s going to be so pissed when he realizes I’ve taken you. It’s a pity I won’t be able to see it.”
He lets go of one of my hands, and when I try to pull away and grab my phone, he tightens his fingers around the wrist he’s still holding and squeezes hard enough to make me yelp in pain.
It feels like he’s crushing my bones, grinding them together, and all my focus turns to trying to pry my wrist free.
The bag drops to the floor, taking my phone with it, and when I claw at his hand, he gives an annoyed grunt and backhands me hard enough to snap my head back.
While I’m stunned and too shocked to fight back, he grabs both my wrists in one hand and pulls me up from the chair.
“No,” I start to say, but panic and fear have me choking on my words while my body takes over, instinctively trying to fight back.
With both my hands useless, I use my leg, landing a hard kick to his shin that has him cursing me to hell and back before he slams me against the wall of his office.
My head hits the edge of the bookshelf hard enough to daze me.
While I try to get my eyes to focus, he leans in closer so we’re only inches apart.
“Do not fuck with me, Savanna. We’re leaving my office. You can do it while awake and conscious or I will bash your head into this wall hard enough to knock you out. Your choice.”
The horrified whimper I give must be answer enough because he nods and says, “Good girl. Now shut the fuck up and stop fighting me.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I whisper, trying to reconcile the fact that my professor is apparently a raging psychopath.
“A lot, I imagine,” is all he says, and the calm tone of his voice mixed with the dead look in his eyes is confirmation enough that I’m not going to like wherever it is that he’s planning on taking me.
A second location is never a good thing, especially not when I know he’s Cupid, the man responsible for drugging and selling women.
My eyes dart around his office, landing on the messenger bag.
Tears spring to my eyes, because it’s impossible to look at that bag and not think of Niki.
I can’t let myself get taken. He’ll never forgive himself, and I’d rather die here than go somewhere where I’ll never be found.
“I’m sorry, Niki,” I whisper right before I lunge for my professor.
I’m not sure what I’m doing, but I put everything into it.
I manage to catch him off guard, surprising him enough to make him fall back a couple of steps.
He knocks over one of the chairs, and when I try to kick him, he gives an angry growl right before blocking my foot from reaching the mark.
I’d been aiming for between his legs, and instead I end up clipping the side of his thigh.
It hurts me way more than it hurts him, and before I can try to hit him again, he clenches his hand into a tight fist and rears back.
I try to run, to back away, to do anything that will prevent his large fist from making contact, but he hits me before I can, an impossibly fast punch that sends me spiraling backwards.
My head hits the bookshelf with a loud crack right before everything goes black.
My head throbs so badly I can barely think.
“Niki,” I whisper, needing him to help me get through the worst migraine of my life.
I reach my hand out, surprised to not feel his body curled around mine like he has been every morning.
The rough blanket under my hand doesn’t feel anything like the soft blankets on our bed, and when I call for him again and get nothing but silence in return, I open my eyes just enough to quickly shut them again at the harsh, blinding light.
It takes me a second, but slowly the pieces start to fit together.
I remember the email from my professor, Niki driving me to his office, and then finding out he’s Cupid.
I remember trying to fight him off, and then blinding pain before losing consciousness.
I gently run my fingers over my head, wincing when I feel a large knot forming at the base of my skull.
My head throbs worse than my migraines, and the nausea is so bad I’m not sure I’m going to be able to avoid getting sick.
Peeling my eyes open, I use my hand to try and block some of the light.
It takes several minutes of blinking and waiting for the dizziness to pass before I get a glimpse of where I am.
As soon as I see the bare, cellar-like room, I wish I’d kept my eyes shut, because this can’t be good.
The walls and floor are concrete, and the only piece of furniture is the metal bed frame I’m lying on.
I fling aside the scratchy blanket, revealing a thin, stained mattress that immediately makes my skin feel like it has bugs crawling all over it.
The bare bulb above me is too high to reach, and even if I could, it’s covered in a wire cage so there’s no hope of breaking it and using it as a weapon.
There’s an open doorway in the far right corner, but I can’t see where it leads, and a big part of me wonders if I even want to know.
The steel door is the only thing in this place that looks new.
It also looks like it’s made to withstand a bomb.
Even though I already know it’s pointless, I roll to the side, swinging my legs off the edge of the bed.
With a deep breath, I grit my teeth and push myself up to sitting.
The wave of dizziness that hits me has me closing my eyes and clasping a hand over my mouth.
I force myself to breathe through my nose, long, slow inhales that eventually push the nausea away.