Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Ella
Food Poisoning - Chri$tian Gate$
I don’t hear from Chris for almost two weeks. My dad’s funeral was packed with people I had never heard of before, and Chris stayed far back, respecting the time me and my family needed. He wasn’t assisting in the last criminal law classes I attended either. Rose was.
Luke is in Stoneview, staying with my mom, but I don’t know what they’re doing regarding the Circle. My brother barely picks up my calls. I’m being left out of everything, back at SFU, and dealing with the constant weight of people talking about the parties my dad hosted.
How do you remain Miss Popular when your world is crumbling? People have found something they can’t relate to anymore. Something they can hate me for. And if not me, my family.
I’m walking through the long cafeteria, weaving between the tables to make my way to my friends, when someone pulls at the shirt of my uniform.
I turn around, dying to scream at her not to touch me. Haven’t people ever learned of personal space? Instead of doing what I want, I offer a welcoming smile.
I don’t know her, but when the whole college knows you, it doesn’t matter.
“You don’t know me, my name’s Cassie. I write for the Silver Students Post. The campus newspaper.”
“Right,” I say sweetly. “Cassie! You wrote an article about the dangers of fraternity parties. I thought it had amazing insight.”
Thank God I sometimes check the campus newspaper.
Unimpressed by my memory, she nods once sternly and continues. “I wanted to talk to you, ask what you have to say about your dad?”
I can only blink at her. “I’m sorry?”
“Your family house is a brothel. Don’t you have something to say about that? Did you know?”
How am I supposed to respond to that? Did I know? Yes. Am I going to say that to anyone? Absolutely not. I might as well cut the tree to make the stake they would burn me at. Who would hear me when I say I didn’t have a choice in it? That if I never went to the police and ruined people’s lives, it was to protect my own.
I look around, making sure no one is listening.
“Are you…” I hold myself taller, attempting to keep my pride intact, or at least pretend to. “Are you writing an article about my family?”
As I ask this, a shadow behind her catches my attention. Chris is walking from the entrance of the cafeteria and toward us, a scowl on his face. The same kind he wears when I’m upset and he’s about to fix it, no matter how he has to.
His presence only makes me want to crawl into the safe space of his arms. I want to hide and let him handle it. Pretending to be strong is draining, and the beginning of this year is already wearing me out. What I would give to just rest and reset.
Catching my gaze, Cassie turns around, then back at me. “That’s Chris Murray, isn’t it? Your ex? Did he come back for you? Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?”
My gaze widens. “What? No…he?—”
“No, he doesn’t have a girlfriend? No, he’s not your ex? No, he didn’t come back for you? Could you be more specific?”
Feeling cornered, my eyes drop, and that’s when I notice the little mic she’s holding. The kind that connects to phones, like people use on social media.
“Are you recording our conversation?” Gasping, I take a step back, and I almost trip on the heels I’m wearing. “What’s wrong with you?”
Chris is right behind Cassie now. “Of course I came back for her. Why else?”
Cassie jumps. I don’t think she realized he was walking specifically to us.
“That’s not true,” I correct quickly. “She’s recording, you idiot,” I snap at him.
“Then let the record show Ella Baker will be mine again by the end of the year. Because when you meet a woman like her, believe me, you don’t let her go twice.”
My lower stomach tightens in that delicious way only Chris is capable of making me feel. I’ll hate myself later for it. Right now, I’m too busy hating Cassie. Especially when she keeps the charade going.
“Your girlfriend is Megan McLean, is that right?” she asks Chris.
He shrugs, a charming smile spreading on his face. “You sound like you love to stir trouble, Cassie. You should run to Megan and tell her everything I said. Let her listen to it. Better yet, send the whole recording to Hermes.”
Eyes widening, I wonder if he’s become suicidal in the last two weeks.
“Maybe I will,” she answers, clearly testing him.
Nodding, he rolls his lips inwardly. “Of course, then you’d have to deal with Megan’s wrath.” He tsks. “You should see what she does to people who humiliate her.”
His eyes quickly scan the distance between us and everyone else eating at their tables, and he must judge they can’t hear us for him to say something he would hate for anyone to hear.
He even lowers his voice just in case. It turns raw, dangerous.
“And you should see what I do to people who threaten Ella.”
My mouth drops open, and it takes me a few seconds to rein in my reaction.
“Chris,” I whisper. I shake my head when his furious eyes meet mine, and they magically soften, making my heart skip a beat.
Oh. I’m in trouble.
A dark voice resonates by my side, sending a wave of reassurance through my body.
“Ella is too nice to tell journalist wannabes to go fuck themselves,” Achilles purrs with disdain. “But here’s my piece of advice—make sure your little mic is recording. In our world, journalists who dig too deep disappear. Are you sure that’s the path you want to take?”
I think that’s enough threats for Cassie in one day. Her lower lip is trembling when she steps to the side, turns around, and practically jogs out of the cafeteria.
“Murray.” Achilles nods a hello .
“Duval.”
“Cassie’s gone. Want to put those sharp teeth away and go back to your day?”
Their exchange sounds like it’s not the first time they’ve had one and that bothers me. They were never friends before.
Chris doesn’t move. His right hand goes into the pocket of his slacks and fidgets with something in there. Achilles huffs like he’s dealt with this too many times before, even though it’s never happened.
“I’ll be taking care of your little Ella, Murray.” He puts a hand at the small of my back. “Now I beg of you to go back to your day so I can go back to my lunch.”
“You’ll be taking care of her without your hand on her, though. Correct?”
Achilles’s hand drops like I’m on fire. “That goes without saying.”
Chris seems to approve, and he gives me a beautiful, genuine smile. “Have a good day, Sweets.”
“ Stop calling me Sweets.”
He pauses, bites his lower lip, and looks me right in the eye when he says, “Whatever you want, Sweets.”
The second he’s out of earshot, I turn to Achilles. “ I’ll be taking care of your little Ella ? What was that about?”
“I told him what he wanted to hear,” he says nonchalantly as we walk to the table where the rest of our friends are.
“You don’t take care of me, Achilles,” I hiss. “And I’m not his .”
“You are little, though.”
He doesn’t give a shit that I’m annoyed with him for talking about me to my ex like I’m a Victorian woman who needs a ward. I don’t even get to answer his stupid remark because Peach is already catching up.
“That girl is a nuisance,” she says as we sit down at our table.
“Don’t worry, Els,” Alex adds. “The whole college hates her.”
I look at her, smiling. “So no one will care if I kill her?” I whisper.
Alex laughs, only cut off by Peach.
“Oh, thank god,” she sighs from across the lunch table. “Hermes just posted something.”
My phone is on silent in my bag because I’m too scared of the kinds of things I could receive.
“Explain to me why that’s a good thing?” Alex asks as she and Achilles pull out their phones. I don’t. I can’t take bad news right now.
“Because Els won’t be the latest topic anymore,” she answers like it’s so obvious.
“Poor Camila,” Alex sighs. “Those were private pictures.”
“Take this as a lesson, girls,” Achilles chuckles. “Don’t send intimate pictures to your boyfriends. There’s always a chance the guy will betray you. Even if you trust him.”
“Uh, fuck you?” Peach defends, her teeth snapping a piece of carrot from the stick she was playing with a second ago. “How about: guys, don’t betray our trust and privacy by sharing intimate pictures we send you because we trust you? You bastards are always the ones begging for them.”
Achilles is sitting next to me, with Peach right on the other side of the table. He leans over, that chilling smirk he does so well spreading on his face. “For someone who knows we’re all bastards, why don’t you be more careful? Some men really don’t have the best intentions, Peach. ”
“Yeah, men like you,” she snorts. “Amanda Carter was crying when she left your house yesterday morning. I was having coffee on the porch when the poor girl slammed your front door. Do you know what she said?”
“I don’t care,” Achilles answers casually.
But Peach insists. “She said, your best friend is fucked up. Don’t let him near any other girls. ”
“Who says she was talking about me? Maybe she was talking about Wren.”
Peach opens her mouth, closing it right away, then again. “Uh…”
I’m almost sure her and Wren secretly fuck from time to time when he manages to convince her. But she loves to deny anything ever happens between them because she’s a badass who holds her ground and Wren is known for being seriously dominant in everything he does. Sports, friendship, studies… sex .
Achilles is a sadistic fuck who enjoys torturing us. Playfully. Especially Peach because she’s so strong-headed. So whenever he can, he’ll try to bring up her and Wren. Or worse, like now, make her jealous.
She turns toward Wren sitting next to her, and he shakes his head. “She was talking about him.”
Shrugging, her features harden. “I don’t care either way.”
She does. She cares a lot. She just doesn’t admit it. Not even to herself.
When she turns back to my side of the table, her eyes light up as she looks behind me. “Ella, your brother gets hotter every time I see him.”
“My brother?” I turn around, and there is Luke walking the length of the college dining hall, heading straight toward us .
When I look back at my friends, Wren has a hand tangled in Peach’s hair, forcing her to look down at her plate. “Focus on your food,” he growls.
She only fights him for a second before grabbing another carrot, cheeks flushed like the shy girl she isn’t. Only Wren has that effect on her.
Luke stops by our table, hands in the pockets of his suit, bright blond hair brushed back.
He nods at my friends, not sparing a word to them before putting a hand on my shoulder.
“Els, I’ve been calling you. Come, we need to talk.”
I guess lunch isn’t going to be an option today. It doesn’t matter; I can’t keep anything in my stomach anyway.
Grabbing my bag, I follow him out without looking back.
“Sorry,” I say as I check my phone. I’ve got seven miscalls from him. “My phone was on silent.”
“Don’t worry.” We walk out together, and I follow him to the visitor’s parking lot.
“How did you even get in?” I ask.
“Chris put me down as a visitor.”
I feel weird hearing that name from his mouth when I’m already looking around and wondering where he went.
He guides me to his car, and it’s only once we’re both sitting inside with the doors closed that he finally says what he came for.
“I didn’t get invited to the initiations.”
My heart drops.
Thump thump.
My ears buzz, and I feel like I’m falling backward even though I’m seated. I grip the seat with both hands. Anxiety spills through my veins, freezing my limbs .
I take a minute. Maybe more. I lick my lips, attempting to form my words.
“What does that mean?”
I don’t look at him, but I hear him take a deep breath, hesitating before he finally says, “I don’t know.”
“Is the Circle coming after us? Did you talk to them? Are you okay? Hurt?”
“Chris said he put my name forward, and after debating, they refused to invite me. He doesn’t know which board members refused, but we do know someone, or some people, don’t want me there.”
“What about?—”
“No,” he cuts me off right away. “You’re not going to the initiations. And I knew you were going to offer. That’s why I waited to tell you. They start tomorrow night, and it’s too late to get invited.”
The entire world falls apart around me. What are we going to do?
"Listen,” Luke says in his attempt at a reassuring voice. “Chris is going to get initiated tomorrow. After that…after that, I’m sure we’ll have more options.”
I’m going to be sick. Apparently, denial is a new thing my brother is trying out.
“We’re not safe, Luke.”
“I will always keep you safe. Nothing will happen to you.”
“I don’t care about me!” I snap. “I care about you and mom.”
I wish I could crawl into his brain and untangle his thoughts. This is too painful to witness.
“Go to class and go home. That’s all I’m asking for today, okay?”
“So, we’re taking it one day at a time? What’s the plan? Wake up every morning and check that none of us got murdered in the night?”
“Murdering us doesn’t teach us a lesson.”
“Then how does it work?” I push him.
“How about you stay out of it and let me handle it?”
“I can’t! You’re not handling anything!”
“Ella,” he seethes. And that’s when I look at him. It’s happening. They’re turning my sweet brother into a desperate man. Desperate men are dangerous. “Just because I keep you out of shit doesn’t mean I have no idea what I’m doing. They contacted me, okay? I’m talking to them. We just haven’t come to an agreement yet. But, for the last time, I’m asking you to stay out of it and let me deal with them.”
“Fine.” We stay silent for a minute or so and, thinking it’s a good way to change topic, I say, “I think I’ll go back to dancing now that dad isn’t here to stop me.”
“Els,” he huffs. “Not now.”
“But why?”
Scratching his throat, he runs his hand through his hair. More bad news is coming.
“We received a letter from SFU yesterday. Your fees hadn’t been paid.”
“Oh, come on,” I groan. My hand drops to my right thigh, and I press against the cut I have under my skirt. “The frozen accounts, I assume?”
He nods.
“What are we going to do? Do I have…to leave college?”
My brother looks away, a hand running through his hair. “Chris covered them.”
“What?” I choke on my own breath as I push the word out.
No, I know Chris. This doesn’t feel right. The man is pretending to my brother that he’s doing our family a favor, taking care of his sister, while hiding the fact that he used to love to control everything about me.
“I’ll pay him back every single cent, Els. For now, he’s covering this semester and your house too. But we’re not going to play around and change your classes again when we couldn’t pay your fees yesterday. Please, just go to class, study hard, and take college seriously. You need to go for a stable career now more than ever. You don’t have anything else to fall back on anymore.”
He lets his head fall against the seat, and I take his hand.
“Okay,” I say softly. “I understand. I’ll work hard, and I’ll make sure to stay in Reeves’s class. It’s almost a guarantee into SFU law school.”
He turns to me with a sad smile. He looks exhausted, heavy eye bags darkening the skin under his eyes.
“I’ll fix this.” Something dulls the blue in his gaze as he talks.
“I don’t like that all responsibilities have fallen on you. You’re in the same situation as me.”
A ball of sadness swells in my throat as he messes with my hair, shaking his head like I’m making a big deal out of nothing.
“I’m your big brother, Els. It feels right to do anything to keep you safe. You just keep out of trouble, okay?”
I nod, sniffling like an idiot.
“Luke?”
“Mhm?” he says, his eyes back on the windscreen. Probably looking at the red-brick castle we can see from the parking lot.
“Why did Chris transfer to SFU? ”
“Him and Megan are moving back to Stoneview,” he mumbles, lost in his own thoughts.
I try not to sound irritated, desperate, fucking hopeless at the turn of events.
“Okay, but why? I know SFU has the best law school, but Yale is a close second.”
My brother finally looks back at me. “Didn’t I tell you? His dad is ill.”
Despite myself, my eyes round, and what Chris said hits me in the face.
That night…I just needed to talk to someone who understands me.
Guilt thickens my blood. “Ill…like, really ill?”
My brother’s mouth twists. “Yeah, like at the hospital with a breathing machine kind of ill. It’s bad, Els. Chris came back to take care of his mom and sister. He got a house in Silver Falls so he can be close to them and college.”
He called that night because he needed me. He needed to talk to me about his dad. To someone he trusts.
Feeling the sudden need to get out of this suffocating car, I nod at my brother.
“Oh, alright. That’s unfortunate.” I struggle to swallow, but keep a straight face.
“That’s one way to put it.”
“No. Yeah. It’s horrible. Please, wish him my best.”
I grab my bag, putting it on my lap. I gather my stuff, and as I zip my bag, I notice the case study Reeves gave me an extension for. My dad’s death was a good enough excuse for him, so he extended it to today.
“Shit!” I hiss as I look at the time. 2:57 p.m. His office hours end in three minutes. “Fuck. I have to run.”
Jumping out of the car, I sprint to the humanities building. The walk would be five minutes, and I don’t even know if I’ll make it by running.
I burst through the building doors, slowing to a fast walk before entering the hallway leading to the professors’ offices. Reeves thinks so highly of himself that he requested an office split into two rooms. He uses the first one as a reception room. I try the door at 3:01, praying for at least him or his assistant to still be here.
But what I pray the hardest for is for that assistant to be Rose.
Please let it not be Chris. Please let it not be Chris.
As I walk into the reception, Chris lifts his head from his desk.
I stop in my tracks, my heart squeezing in my chest. I wonder if the day will come when I don’t feel anything when I see this man’s eyes roaming over my body, or the way they light up when they see me. Maybe I’ll die wondering.
“Hi, Ella.”
That’s it. In a deep, soothing voice that welcomes me to follow it. Are my instincts broken? Is that why I want to sit on his lap and hug him? Is that why I want his strong hands on me?
What happened to your dad?
I almost expect an answer to my thought when he starts talking.
“Are you here to see Professor Reeves? His office hours are over, but he’s finishing with someone else. He might be able to get you in if he’s not in a hurry to leave.”
I want to ask why he’s acting all normal when he moved back to Stoneview because his dad is ill. How he can talk so calmly when I wasn’t there for him when he needed me?
“I have to…” I catch the papers on his desk, and I take a step forward, reading the notes he’s writing in red. “Are those the case studies from my class?”
He doesn’t even look up, simply nodding.
“Will you be grading mine too?”
Sitting back in his chair, he brings his red pen to his full lips. A little smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. The one that says I know things you don’t. The empathy I felt a second ago is gone. I’m now tempted to punch him. Make that front, slightly chipped tooth even worse. I hate when he looks at me like he’s got something over me. Even if he does.
“Maybe. It depends on what Reeves wants to do. He might want to grade it himself to be quicker. That way, you can get your feedback at the same time as everyone else.” He glances back at the door to the professor’s office. “Do you want me to have a look before you hand it in?”
His soft voice makes me feel like I’m wrapped in comfort. Warmth spreads from my belly to my chest, my body loving the way he wants to help.
I nod, keeping silent. But I don’t move, so he’s the one who has to get up from his seat, round his desk, and look through my bag while I stand still. My arms hang limply by my sides as he leans back against his desk. His long legs extend in front of him, to my left. A hair’s breadth away from my naked legs. Red pen pressed against his lips again, his eyebrows pinch as he focuses. Could he look sexier if he tried? I don’t think so.
I shake my head, trying to focus.
“You helping me with this doesn’t mean I’ll ‘be yours by the end of the year,’” I explain, quoting his words from earlier.
“Oh, I know, Sweets. ‘Not even if I was your last option on earth,’ right?” His eyes don’t even raise from the paper.
I guess if I get to throw his words back at him, he gets to do the same.
“That’s right.”
He keeps reading. “Thankfully, I don’t need your authorization to make you mine.”
“You might not need my authorization to try , but you need my willingness to achieve it.”
He finally looks up. “Do I? Well, I can be very persuasive.”
“Not persuasive enough.”
He chuckles, enjoying this way too much. He spreads his legs open, one on either side of me, and before I know it, he’s grabbing my uniform tie, pulling me until I’m right between his thighs. My paper gets crunched in the same grip, and my eyes widen with panic.
He drags his red pen along my inner thigh, from my knee until it’s against my underwear.
I try to pull away, speechless, but a gasp leaves me when he presses the end of the pen against my clit. Not the writing side. The thicker side that feels torturously good as it sparks electricity through my stomach, all the way to my nipples.
I open my mouth to say something, to stop him, but he presses harder, and I clamp it back shut to stop a moan from escaping. Seeing my reaction, he pulls on my tie until I’m flush against him. I put my hand on his chest, my eyes almost rolling to the back of my head when I feel the hard, unrelenting muscles.
“Not persuasive enough, huh?”
Oh my god. What kind of game is he playing?
His eyes take in my teeth biting on my lower lip, my heavy-hooded eyes, and what I’m assuming must be a flush on my cheeks .
It’s hot in this room, and it’s making me do crazy things. Like rolling my hips forward to feel more of the pen through my damp underwear.
“Poor little Ella,” he purrs. “Isn’t it so hard to fight what you really want?”
Taking pity on me, he lets go, and I stumble back, feeling a resonating aftermath between my legs. He doesn’t even look bothered, while he just tilted my world on its axis in less than five minutes.
He reads some more of my essay like nothing happened and shakes his head. “Do you have your laptop?”
He adds something else about the case, but I’m struggling to listen as a strand of his caramel hair makes him blink, falling in his eye and bothering him. It’s practically begging me to run my hand through the silky waves.
“Ella?”
“What?” I drag my eyes away from his hair, licking my lips as I do so.
His mouth twists slightly, knowing exactly the state he just put me in. “You missed a lot of points.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “What? No, I spent hours on this.” My hand goes to my chest, scratching at the skin showing under the open buttons of my uniform. “I don’t get it. I did a lot of research, and I had Reeves’s book open the whole time I worked on this.”
“His book is terrible,” Chris snorts, but then he catches the way I’m scratching my skin and his face drops. “Don’t scratch, Sweets. Give me your laptop. I can change some stuff for you.”
Somehow, my brain decides not to pick up on the fact that he calls me Sweets the second he goes into protective mode. Chris has so many flaws, but I can say with certainty he’s the person who always took care of me. He’s protective. Overprotective. But more often than not, it feels really good. And he knows how I feel about being stupid. How ashamed I am of it, even though he disagrees.
He grabs my laptop out of my bag, sitting back behind his desk.
“You don’t have to help me.” I attempt to sound like I know what I’m doing and what I want, but the fear of failing Reeves’s class is eating me from the inside. I don’t want to go through what I did last time to keep my spot.
“It’s just a case study you’ll look at again once you start law school. It’s not going to define the rest of your career.”
“I know, but…”
He looks up, stern eyes locking on my chest. “I told you to stop scratching, Ella.”
His domineering voice makes me stop right away, his authority spreading through my veins. This feels too much like the us from before. Him taking care of me and telling me what to do. Me…being helpless to his decisions and yet finding comfort in them.
My eyes stay glued to Reeves’s door for the few minutes Chris edits my essay. The second he prints it and gives it back to me, the door opens, and my heart nearly explodes from fear. I startle, but there’s nothing to see here anymore, and Chris is already back to grading the copies on his desk.
“Miss Baker, please come in.”
My gaze crosses with the other student as she walks out, and I practically choke on oxygen.
It’s Megan.
Straight black hair to her shoulders, sharp eyebrows, she’s studying me like I’m part of the next case we have to write an essay on. Her long legs and slim figure make her look like a runway model, and when I walk past her, I realize I barely reach her head .
With my heart racing, Reeves closes the door behind him and invites me to sit. Once he’s behind his desk, he extends his arm, and I give him the essay.
“Why are you handing this to me fifteen minutes after your deadline when I’ve already given you an extension?”
“I-I was here,” I explain. “You were busy.”
“You weren’t here at 3 p.m. when my office closes.”
I already feel my hand going down to my thigh, even though I’m too distracted by anxiety to feel whether I’m scratching or not.
“I’m sorry,” I rasp. “My family has been going through a lot, and my brother came today to?—”
“Yes, I know. Your dad’s suicide. The bankruptcy.” How the hell does he know about the bankruptcy? “But I can’t be lenient with you forever, can I? That’s not how real life works.”
“No, of course,” I say numbly, feeling myself getting smaller in the chair. Maybe if my body keeps shrinking, I’ll disappear within the leather.
Reeves huffs, shaking his head as he stands up. He walks around his desk, but the purpose in his steps makes me freeze on the spot. Putting a hand on the arm of the chair, he brushes a blonde strand behind my ear, making my stomach contort painfully.
I stare ahead at my paper on his desk. If I don’t look at him, don’t move, don’t make a single noise, he might forget about me. If I don’t exist, nothing can happen to me.
“Ella.” No more Miss Baker. That barrier of protection is gone too. “Look at me.” His hand grips my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “I’m an understanding man. I empathize with your situation, but I need a little effort from you too. I need to see that you want to be in this class.”
His thumb starts caressing my lower lip, pulling it down slightly. My eyes catch his other hand going to his belt, and that’s when I notice the signet ring on his pinky. My dad had this exact same ring. It’s a golden ring with a mountain—or I guess it’s a mount since it’s supposed to represent Mount Olympus—engraved on it. My dad had lightning engraved on it too, but Reeves has nothing else. The Silent Circle bases a lot of its rituals around Greek mythology, and I have no doubt that this ring means Reeves is part of it.
It would make sense. He’s barely thirty. Too young to have obtained the reputation he has on his own. The firm, being a renowned professor, the elite clients. He had help. The kind the Circle can provide. And now I know why he’s so aware of what goes on with my family.
“Don’t freeze on me. You did the same thing last time, trying to disappear when everything around you becomes too real.”
I can’t move my head, held too tightly in his bruising grip. My eyes are my only escape, and stay down, stuck on his belt as he undoes it. I can’t hear his next question as my heart beats loudly in my ears. The ringing makes me dizzy, and I let the first words that come to my mind burst out of my mouth:
“Do you have a wife, Professor Reeves?”
He freezes, and I look up at his face to find him cocking an eyebrow at me. “Do you see a wedding ring, Miss Baker?”
He’s annoyed. He doesn’t feel so free to do whatever he wants now.
“No. But I do see the Silent Circle signet ring, and I’m assuming that to be a full member, you had to get married.”
When his eyes narrow, clearly trying to figure out where I’m going with this, a wave of strength comes over me .
“Aren’t Shadows only allowed to cheat on their wives with the Circle’s mistresses? Or I guess with people you all paid to attend my dad’s parties?” I ask sternly. “I seem to remember it’s so that no woman from outside the Circle has anything to blackmail you with. It would put a Shadow in a weak position. But please, correct me if I’m wrong.”
He releases my jaw in a violent gesture, pushing my head to the side so hard I can’t stop a pained cry from escaping. And this proves I’m right. The fucker has a wife; he just doesn’t wear a ring so he can seduce his students in peace.
I stand up quickly, grabbing my bag, and face him with whatever courage I have in me. “I am not an Aphrodite, Professor Reeves. You’d do well to remember that.”
He walks back behind his desk. “No.” Smiling at me, he picks up my paper. “Just a whore who doesn’t mind sleeping with her professor to stay in his class.”
He hands me the paper from across the desk. “You can leave this with my assistant. He’ll grade it. I won’t be giving you extra points this time. You’ll be keeping your spot—or not—based on your skills and intelligence.” He chuckles condescendingly. “So, I don’t expect to see you again after this week.”
I snatch the paper from him. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
My jaw feels bruised as I walk out of the office, closing the door behind me, ready to give my essay back to Chris. But instead of finding him at his desk, Megan is sitting on his chair, typing on her phone.
“Uh…” I hesitate. “Is Chris around? Professor Reeves told me to give this to one of his assistants.”
She looks up at me, her smile looking as hypocritical as they come. “Oh, you can give that to me.” Extending her arm, she expects me to hand it to her.
I hesitate, staying too far for her to grab my paper. “Isn’t Rose White meant to be the other assistant?” I ask.
She looks offended, her arm falling back down. “Technically, it was going to be between her and I. I find it really surprising that he took a first year.”
I guess that’s her answer then.
“I think he just didn’t want to take two transfer students as his assistants. It would have been weird,” she justifies, lost in her own thoughts and not caring one bit about what I’m here for.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to give this to you.”
She stands, dragging on the heavy silence when she refuses to tell me where Chris is.
Closing the short distance between us, she points at my jaw. This girl is so tall I have to crane my neck back to keep a semblance of equal footing. Towering over me, she presses her finger against my skin. I flinch and take a step back. She did it on purpose. Pushed exactly where my skin must be red or bruising from Reeves’s grip.
“The only way to succeed is through hard work, not by using what’s between your legs. I wouldn’t be that kind of girl if I were you, Ella.”
I feel my eyes round before I can control my expression. “Nothing happened in there,” I snap back.
At that same moment, the door leading to the hallway opens, and both Chris and Rose walk in, arms full of printed documents. They stop, taking in the scene for a second before Rose breaks the awkwardness by putting the papers down and walking toward me.
“Els, how are you?”
She takes me in a tight hug, keeping me against her chest, as if trying to give me some of her strength. She can spare some since she’s got so much. Rose is a badass who’s been through hell and back. When I was little, she and her twin were taken in by Chris’s family and became his foster siblings. I grew up with her, Jake, Chris, and Luke being my protectors. I guess Chris took it a step further.
“How are you holding up?” Rose asks in her raspy voice. “I haven’t seen you at all since we started again.”
I nod at her, muttering a quick I’m alright . I’m not about to get into it in front of that girl. When I pull away, Chris still hasn’t taken a step toward us, but Megan has moved right beside him.
“What are you still doing here?” he asks her, as she attempts to wrap her arm around his. He steps to the side, not even pretending he’s not trying to avoid her grip as he puts his documents on his desk. “I told you I’d meet you at home.”
I don’t think I’ve ever heard his voice so bothered. Chris is the king of keeping up appearances. He’ll always put in the effort to make everyone feel comfortable. I don’t recognize the grim behavior.
She offers him a frozen smile and tilts her head to the side. “I had time. I thought we could go home together.” When she looks at me, her smile widens. “Ella is here.” She points it out like it’s not obvious, clearly trying to bring the conversation to me.
Chris barely stops a huff, running a hand behind his neck. I know this telltale. He’s angry or anxious. Maybe both.
“Ella,” he says in that warm voice I love. My name sounds magical on his lips, yet when he keeps going, it drops a few degrees. “You remember Megan, right? ”
His eyes dig into mine, and it feels like our bodies are the only ones in the room. How can he make everyone disappear with a simple look? How can he make his girlfriend so unimportant by the simple way he said my name?
This is so wrong.
“I remember,” I rasp, completely enchanted by whatever adoration he’s still managing to express without a single word.
I only met Megan once, and it’s blurry. A New Year’s Eve dinner Chris had organized at his house. I was so drugged up on diazepam that night that the second I started drinking champagne, I knew I wouldn’t remember anything. I shouldn’t have taken my meds and drank at the same time, but I was so anxious to see Chris that I didn’t care.
The reason I really know what she looks like is from stalking her socials when they started dating.
Rose must sense the way every single one of my muscles tense because she puts a hand at the small of my back, rubbing soothing circles. And thankfully, she tries to get me out of the situation.
“Well, it’s been great. Can we leave now?” she says, deadpan, not enjoying a single second of this. “Actually, I was going to meet Luke for dinner. Do you want to come, Els? I can drive you back to campus afterward.”
I want to answer, but I’m frozen on the spot, stuck under the glacial stare of Megan’s dark blue eyes. Why is she so scary?
The moment is cut off by Chris’s sudden stride toward me. He stops right before he bumps into me. Bringing his hand to my chest, he wraps his finger around mine and pulls my hand away .
“Stop scratching.” The order brings goosebumps all the way down my arms, making me fall under his spell.
I hadn’t even realized I was doing it, but now that he says it, I can feel the pain I’ve caused myself. His eyes hover around my jaw, his eyebrows drawing together in the most delicate way.
“What happened?”
Before I can even realize he’s talking about the mark on my jaw, Megan is right next to him, looking at me as she answers for me, and breaking through the obsessive tension between me and her boyfriend.
“I think some girls are ready to do anything to stay in Professor Reeves’s class.”
Chris’s entire demeanor switches. His stare hardens, his muscles tense. He suddenly appears taller, wider.
I have to open and close my mouth a few times before any sound comes out. Even then, I sound like an idiot.
“I-I didn’t… I don’t…”
The worst thing that could happen right now is everyone in this room thinking I’m a slut who sleeps with her professor regularly.
Okay, I did it once. But I was out of my depth.
He looks down at the paper I’m holding. “Is that for me?”
I nod, giving it to him.
“Go home, Ella.” And with that, he turns around, allowing Megan to take his hand and drag him out of the room.
The second they’re gone, I feel my lungs expand again.
“Oh my god.” It takes all of me to keep a steady voice and not gasp oxygen like I need to. “She’s terrifying.”
Rose turns to me. “That’s Megan for you. She’s top of her class in ‘Being a Bitch 101.’”
“She doesn’t even try to pretend to be nice,” I add.
“God, no. She doesn’t care what people think of her.”
We walk out together, but the second we split ways, the feeling of my body destroying itself from the inside comes back. I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder at a very young age, but I somehow manage to live with it if I take my medication and keep a calm rhythm of life. Since Chris transferred to SFU…nothing feels calm anymore.
No, I have a feeling it’s only the beginning of a whole new nightmare.
And I know I’m right when I get to my front door. My mom is there, standing on the porch and knocking.
“Mom,” I call out. “Sorry I wasn’t h?—”
My heart drops to my stomach as she turns around, a gasp cutting through the distance between us.
“Mom. Oh my god. Mom, what happened?” I run the last few steps that separate us and put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to the chairs we have on the porch. Her face is bruised, lips swollen, a black eye.
And the second her body touches the seat, she winces.
I freeze.
I don’t have the strength to ask what happened again. I kneel in front of her, not daring to touch her. She stays silent for long minutes. So long I wonder if she’ll ever talk again.
When she does, I wish she never had.
“I tried to pay our debts.” This isn’t my mother talking. It’s a ghost who took hold of her soul.
My trembling hands come to my face. I hide in my palms for a few seconds while I process what she doesn’t say. She tried to pay our debts with her body .
Her empty eyes are on mine when I drop my hands to hold hers .
“Mom—”
“I’m not a young woman they can have fun with for hours on end anymore, Ella.”
My stomach churns. This is disgusting. Those men are monsters.
“I am worth nothing to them,” she whispers. Almost like she’s ashamed. “My body is worth nothing.”
But it doesn’t mean they didn’t use her anyway.
“Why did you go?” I don’t realize tears are running down my face until my raw voice wakes the feelings in my body. “Mom, why?”
Her fingers tighten around mine. “I had to try to protect you and your brother, didn’t I? It’s the least I could do.”
I shake my head, refusing her selfless act. One that made no difference.
“Luke didn’t get in,” she says. “And I didn’t help.”
Her unspoken words are louder than the ones she pronounced. Her imploration is silent, yet unmistakable.
It’s my turn.
But like the coward I am, I find excuses. My mother just let someone—or some people—assault her, and I still try to back out of this.
“The initiations are tomorrow. I-I don’t have an invite.”
Pulling her hand away, she stands up so quickly I fall on my ass. She doesn’t help me up. She walks around me and down the two stairs of our porch.
And in a cold, distinct voice, she says, “Then get one.”