11. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Noah
G od, I fucking hate this.
Every single part of it.
I wanted to chase after her, grab her the second she walked out that door, and fuck her so hard she’d never even entertain the idea that I could be focused on anyone else. I wanted to erase every doubt, every comparison, every fucking insecurity she threw at me.
If it had been any other woman, I would’ve rolled my eyes and moved on. No second thought. No lingering frustration. Just a dismissive shrug and onto the next.
So why the hell did I lose control the second she slammed that door shut?
Why did I trash my desk like a rabid animal?
Why the fuck have I been teetering on the edge all goddamn day?
Every smart-mouthed student that crossed my path today barely made it out unscathed. My patience, usually controlled, was nonexistent.
All because of the way she looked at me after she slapped me.
Like I was a monster. Like I was a predator, ready to use her, to take what I wanted and leave her hollow.
Like I was him .
She compared me to Cole. The moment she said his name, her fury ignited like a live wire, electric and untamed. No doubt, he’s the ex who had her strung up by her neck outside the cafeteria. The thought alone sends something dark clawing up my spine.
And yet, the worst part?
The moment I imagine another man touching her, my mind fractures, splintering into something uncontrollable. Rational thought? Gone. Erased.
Both times I’ve caught some asshole’s hands on her, I’ve been seconds away from doing something I might regret.
And Ana, fuck, Ana, she makes it worse just by existing near me.
Fucking her wouldn’t be enough. Not even close.
I want her. I want her to be mine . I want her so tangled up in me that she never even thinks about another man.
I’ve never had a woman consume me like this.
But now?
She’s all I can fucking think about.
Shoving the bottle of whiskey deeper into my bag, my fingers fumble with the keys to my apartment.
For a while, I liked the idea of owning a home—of settling into something that felt normal . Dipping into the fortune my father left me made it easy, a quiet indulgence in a life that was never really mine to begin with.
Running his business after he passed felt like a duty, one forced onto me without my consent. But the more I dug into his legacy, the more I realized how deep his ties ran to a world he had always kept me sheltered from.
A world I wasn’t meant to escape.
Letting Jake take over our family’s empire was the first real breath I’d taken in years. A weight off my shoulders.
I know my father never wanted him in charge. I know the last thing he wanted was for Jake to step into the role I was supposed to fill. But I couldn’t stomach another day pretending I believed in the way we built our wealth.
Or maybe I believed in it too much.
Maybe that’s why I walked away.
Because I could feel it, the pull. The ease with which I could become the very animal my father had transformed into.
Jake plays the part well. Civil. Controlled. But I know the truth. Deep down, he likes the lifestyle even more than our father ever did.
The months before I cut ties were a downward spiral. My father’s death came too fast, left no time to process. I stepped into his place, cleaned up his loose ends, followed his orders even after he was gone.
And fuck, were there screams.
So much control.
All of it in the palm of my hand.
Our family is deeply entwined with the Mexican drug cartel, moving meth like we’re Amazon’s best delivery drivers, putting bullets in the heads of anyone who crosses us. It’s systematic. Brutal. Efficient.
Walking away felt impossible.
So I didn’t. I just hid.
Laying low, pretending to live a clean life, teaching, of all things, felt like the perfect disguise. No one in my family would’ve expected me to actually use my degree.
And honestly?
I was never a fan of kids anyway.
Three years.
That’s how long it’s been since I last heard from anyone in my family.
No calls. No messages. No warnings.
It’s like I never existed.
Noah Ackerman suits me better anyway. Feels like a clean break from the weight of Noah Antonov , from the legacy I was meant to inherit. Leaving it all to Jake was the only way to stop myself from spiraling down the same blood-soaked path our father did.
Still, I can’t ignore the one habit I did inherit.
The taste for whiskey when my mind turns against me.
The bottle in my bag is proof of that.
"Mr. Ackerman?"
I freeze, apartment keys clenched between my teeth as I wrestle with the stubborn lock. The voice slithers into my ears, grating and unwelcome.
I know that fucking voice.
Slowly, I turn, already bracing for the sight of the last person I wanted to see.
Walker Gilmore.
Of all the goddamn people.
Dropping my keys into my palm, I stare him down, every ounce of patience I have unraveling at the sight of his smug, arrogant face.
"Walker," I say, voice tight, jaw clenched. "What the hell are you doing here?"
My tone is light, almost amused, but in my head?
I’m already picturing his hands clawing at mine, his throat constricting under my grip as he struggles to breathe.
He had the audacity to touch her.
To touch her in my classroom.
To treat her like she was his to please.
And that?
That’s something I can’t fucking let go.
Fighting every goddamn urge to think about Ana’s drunken, in-depth description of sucking this asshole’s dick, the images claw at the edges of my mind. Forcing a neutral smile onto my face, I keep my rage on a tight leash.
"I live here," Walker scoffs, arms crossed like he owns the place. "Off-campus housing."
I narrow my eyes. "Sophomores are required to live on campus-"
"Not if your family pays enough to administration to turn a blind eye to that silly little rule," he interrupts, flashing an egotistical grin that makes my fingers itch to rearrange his teeth.
This little shit.
I’ve seen his kind all over campus. The rich, entitled brats who have never worked a day in their lives, who think their family name is a free pass to do whatever the hell they want. In front of Ana, he plays it well, humble, unassuming. But out here, with no one to impress? The mask slips.
"You talk like you have Briar money," I scoff.
For some reason, when Eden first mentioned her last name, it didn’t click. Eden isn’t just any professor. The Briars are one of the wealthiest families in town. And yet, they don’t flaunt it. From what I’ve seen firsthand, they carry their wealth with quiet power, not arrogance.
Walker? He’s the opposite.
"Not quite, but pretty damn close," he smirks. "Gilmore real estate. My family owns this building."
He pats the marble wall by my door like I’m supposed to be impressed. Like I should be bowing at his fucking feet.
If only he knew who he was talking to.
My family’s affairs would make his look like a lemonade stand.
"Must be a recent move if I’m only now seeing you."
"Since the semester started," he says, shrugging. "Figured I’d rather have my own place than bring women back to a dorm." His grin widens, smug. "But, given how much time I’ve been spending with Ana thanks to your class, it seems I made the smart move."
My grip tightens around my keys, but I keep my expression unreadable.
"If you say so," I mutter, already done with this conversation.
I shift toward my door, making it clear I have better things to do than entertain his bullshit.
"Well, I have papers to grade-"
"It’s actually great I ran into you," Walker interrupts, that arrogant smirk still plastered on his face. "My apartment’s at the very end of this hallway. Figured it’s my neighborly duty to let you know things might get a bit loud tonight. So, you know, don’t hesitate to tell us to keep it down."
I arch a brow, already hating where this is going.
"Big plans with Ana tonight?" The words slip out before I can stop them, my curiosity getting the best of me.
Walker grins, eyes glinting with something smug.
"Plans with her and a few others. Throwing a little back-to-school get together. You know how these things go, a little too much vodka, and suddenly no one knows how to keep their voices down when they’re having a good time."
The way he says it. The implication laced in his tone.
It takes everything in me not to slam his head against the fucking wall.
"You realize telling me all of this isn’t exactly in your best interest, right?" I say, my voice steady. "It’s a school night, and you’re openly admitting your plans to get wasted-"
"I just want to make sure we’re clear, Mr. Ackerman," he cuts in, his voice shifting, laced with something darker. "If Ana does decide to show up here tonight, the last thing either of us needs is her somehow finding her way to your apartment."
I go still.
The words hit me like a slow-burning fuse.
"What the fuck are you insinuating?"
Dropping my bag, I take a step closer, but Walker doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch.
He’s baiting me. Testing me.
"I’d tread very carefully-"
"No, I would, Noah ," he hisses, spitting my name like a curse. His eyes darken with something venomous, something taunting. "It wasn’t too hard to put a face to the name Ana was moaning while she was riding my fingers."
White-hot rage snaps through me.
"I’m sure the school board would love to find out why one of their students is having sexual fantasies about her English teacher-"
I don’t think. I just move.
Grabbing his collar, I slam him back against my door, pinning him in place. His breath stutters, the bravado flickering for the first time. I press my forearm against his chest, my knee digging hard into his thigh, keeping him locked beneath me.
Up close, he’s smaller. Weaker. And trembling like a fucking child who just realized he’s out of his depth.
"Do you want to threaten me again?" I murmur, my voice cold, calculated. I press harder, enough to make sure he feels it. Enough to leave a mark. "Then look me in the eyes and fucking do it."
His confidence evaporates. That smug mask he wore so easily a moment ago? Gone.
He scoffs, but it’s weak, forced. A pathetic attempt to regain control.
"My parents-"
"I could give two shits what your family will do," I murmur, my voice low and lethal. "Because I promise you, mine will do much worse."
Walker swallows hard, but I don’t give him the chance to react.
"Tread very fucking carefully before you ever speak to me like that again. And if Ana was moaning my name?" I lean in, smirking. "Maybe learn to fuck her well enough that she doesn’t have to fantasize about me pounding into her instead of you."
His jaw tightens, but I can see the flicker of doubt in his eyes.
Gripping his chin, I squeeze hard, forcing his gaze to stay locked on mine. His pupils widen, fear flashing through them. "I promise you, if she comes knocking on my door tonight, the last thing she’ll have to worry about is moaning another man’s name."
I let that settle in before continuing, my grip tightening.
"Because if she’s with me, she won’t know any name but mine. So, if you’d rather not have your little girlfriend forget who the fuck you even are while I show her what it’s like to be properly fucked, I suggest you and all of your little partygoers stay the fuck out of my way."
With a sharp yank, I rip him away from my door, watching as he stumbles, nearly tripping over himself.
"Have a good night, Mr. Gilmore," I sneer, venom laced in every syllable.
I don’t move as he rubs his chest, his face twisted into something caught between anger and disbelief.
"Stay away from Ana," he hisses, his voice shaky, his ego barely holding on.
Something entirely feral snaps inside me.
The very idea of him trying to keep her from me only makes her that much more desirable.
I let a slow, knowing smirk stretch across my lips as I glance over my shoulder. "I think you’re telling the wrong person that, pretty boy."
And nothing, nothing , is more satisfying than slamming the door shut on his dumbfounded face.