22. Chapter 22
Chapter 22
Elijah
“ F ucking hell, Ana.”
She strides out of the classroom, wearing a wide grin that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, her cheeks still flushed, her gaze flickering with guilt.
She’s scouting the area.
Looking for anyone who might see her.
The further she gets, the more she ducks her head, as if shrinking away will erase the evidence of what she’s done.
My stomach twists. My hands shake.
My eyes flick back to the messages from just an hour ago, the ones I had stared at long enough to burn into memory.
Hey, did you make it to class alright?
Actually, decided to play hooky today. The last thing I need is to spend time in Mr. Ackerman's class after the shit you and Meg threw at me.
So you're not on campus?
Like I said, doing my own thing today. Don't wait up for me.
Lies.
Blatant fucking lies.
My fingers clench around my phone, my mind racing through every horrifying scenario that could explain why she would risk everything, her grades, her reputation, her entire academic career, for a man like him.
Is he forcing her? Manipulating her?
Or worse, does she want this?
I didn’t want to believe that photo was real. Didn’t want to believe Megan’s hysteria was anything more than some deep-rooted jealousy.
Cole and Walker are worthless pieces of shit, always looking for new ways to ruin Ana’s life.
But now?
Now I’ve seen the truth with my own eyes.
The guilt on her face. The lingering red on her cheeks. The way she walks, like she’s done this before, like she’s wearing the same shame I’ve carried too many times after slipping out of some asshole’s dorm room.
I know that walk.
And I know exactly where she just came from.
The realization curdles in my stomach, boiling into something sharp, something unshakable.
Before I can think, my feet move on their own, carrying me across the hall, closer, closer—until I’m standing in front of his door.
I hesitate.
Just for a second.
Then his voice cuts through the air, low, cold, just barely audible through the barely ajar door.
"I get what I want. You get what you want. Whatever piece of ass I’m tapping is none of your concern. If you’re smart, you’ll stay far away. I’m sure you’d love to dig into my wares, but I assure you-"
My stomach lurches.
"When I’m done with the little whore, there won’t be much left to have fun with."
My breath vanishes.
The world blurs.
And then, just as quickly, everything sharpens.
Rage consumes me, blinding, all-consuming.
Every rational thought I had walking in here vanishes.
Fuck this piece of shit.
I shove the door open, and the second Mr. Ackerman’s eyes land on me, confusion flickers across his face. His hand slams his phone onto the desk, his movements sharp, guilty.
I step inside and kick the door shut behind me. Hard.
My breath is coming too fast, my head light with fury, but the scene before me tells me everything I need to know.
His desk is a mess. His clothes, disheveled. His belt, just now being adjusted.
My hands curl into fists.
“Mr. Warner?” His voice is smooth, too smooth. “Can I help you-”
I don’t let him finish.
Storming across the room, I jab my finger into his chest, shoving him back a step. I get so close I can smell her on him, that familiar, intoxicating scent clinging to his skin.
His eyes widen.
He knows.
“I know,” I snarl. “I know about Ana. I know what you’ve been doing to her, and I know what it’s doing to her.”
My voice is darker than I’ve ever heard it.
“If you don’t want to leave this classroom bleeding, you’re going to cut off whatever the hell this is today. Right now.” I breathe hard through my nose, barely restraining the need to swing. “She may be just a little whore for your pleasure to you, but I won’t let you hurt her more than you already have, you sick, pedophilic piece o-”
Pain.
Sudden, sharp, crushing pain explodes across the side of my head.
Before I can react, I’m shoved forward, my skull colliding with the desk.
The world spins. My chest heaves.
He’s on me in an instant, his weight pressing down, his fingers digging into my skin like claws, holding me in place like some cornered animal.
My breath stutters.
“Do you think you can walk in here and threaten me, kid?” he snaps, his voice low and venomous. “Do you really think you understand anything about what’s happening here? You overheard one conversation and suddenly you’re judge, jury, and executioner?”
I grit my teeth.
“So it’s true?” I force out, my voice strained as I try to lift my head. “You’re fucking Ana? Using her like she’s some cheap whore?”
His body stiffens. His grip on me falters for just a fraction of a second.
I hit a nerve.
“She is not a whore,” Mr. Ackerman grinds out, his voice dangerous. “Let’s get that straight.”
Then, just as fast as he grabbed me, he lets go.
I stumble back, my head still ringing, watching as he runs a shaking hand through his hair, his breathing uneven.
“So… you too?” His voice drops to a whisper, something unreadable flashing behind his eyes. “What? Did Walker put you up to this? Too scared to confront me himself, so he sends her best friend to do his dirty work?”
Walker?
What the fuck is he talking about?
My confusion must be obvious because he narrows his eyes.
“Walker,” he repeats, his voice cold. “He did the same thing you’re doing. Trying to find a way to hurt her.”
The words hit me sideways.
He’s lying. He has to be.
“You say that like you care about her,” I snap, stepping forward. “How many students have you gotten away with fucking?”
His jaw tightens.
I take a step back when he moves toward me, but it’s too late.
His fist grips my collar, yanking me forward until we’re nose to nose, his hold tight enough that I feel the white-hot rage rolling off him.
“I never touched a student before Ana.” His knuckles turn white. “I had no intention of letting it go this far.” His jaw clenches. “I thought I had control. I thought I could look past her.”
He swallows hard, but his grip doesn’t waver.
“I would never put Ana in harm’s way.”
“But you already have.” I scoff.
His fingers twitch against my shirt.
“She’s skipping class. Isolating. Hell, she barely answers her dad’s calls anymore,” I bite out. “Do you have any idea how much her family sacrificed for her to be here? Do you have any fucking clue what she went through back home? Cole’s abuse was just the tip of the iceberg. He used her pain against her, made her think the bullshit he was giving her was love.” I shake my head, anger spilling from every word. “And then you came along. You took a broken woman and made her your plaything.” My breath shudders, my chest rising and falling in harsh waves. “All you’ve done is harm her.”
His grip loosens.
“If you really gave a fuck about her, you’d leave her the hell alone.” My voice drops to a snarl, “And maybe find someone your own age to fuck.”
His hand falls away.
For the first time since I stormed in here, something changes in his face.
His mask slips.
And dread, cold and dark, paints his expression.
“She stopped answering her father?”
His voice is quieter now, but it doesn’t soften the edge of my fury.
“He’s sick,” I snap. “And the treatment is too expensive. She knows he’s on borrowed time. And you-” I take a step closer, my words cutting like knives. “You became her distraction from all of it. You gave her a high, made her feel seen. It may be just a casual fuck to you, something to joke about with your friends, but I promise-” my jaw tightens “-it means a hell of a lot more to Ana than it ever will to you.”
“You don’t know how I feel about Ana,” he grits out, voice low.
“Really?” I let out a hollow laugh. “Then prove it. Quit. Resign. Take her on a real date, fall madly in love with her. Tell her your deepest, darkest fears. Show her a life where she’s more than just what’s between her legs.”
His silence is deafening.
Finally, he looks away.
I’ve got him exactly where I want him.
“But you won’t do that, will you?” I whisper, my voice dipping, the words a slow, deliberate dagger.
“You won’t quit. You won’t treat her like anything other than your little plaything. Because this was never about Ana, it was always about you. Your needs. Your selfish fucking desires.” I shake my head. “She never meant anything to you.”
His jaw tenses, but I push forward.
“You fuck and discard women, feeding off how easily they fall for that charismatic smile and old-money charm. You are the last thing she needed in her life, but you’re too selfish to own up to that. So don’t stand here and tell me I don’t know how you feel about Ana.”
I step closer, close enough to feel his breath against mine.
“You don’t know the first fucking thing about her,” I seethe. “Because that would require you to think with something other than your dick.”
His nostrils flare, and for a second, I wonder if he’s going to hit me.
Instead, his expression darkens, voice a low, venomous whisper.
“Fuck you,” he growls.
"You'd never get the chance," I snap. “If I ever find out you’ve touched her, or anyone else on this campus again, I will end you. I don’t give a fuck who your family is or why you took this job.” I lean in, voice dropping to something lethal. “Unlike you, I love Ana.”
His muscles go rigid.
“You’re lucky you’re not leaving this damn classroom with a broken nose.”
I expect him to fire back, to throw some half-assed excuse in my face. But instead, he just stares at me.
Expression unreadable.
Then, so quiet it almost doesn’t register, he mutters, “You don’t know the first thing about me.” His voice is cold, flat. “You have no idea what Ana means to me.”
“If she ever meant anything to you, you’ll never fucking speak to her again outside of class.” I scoff.
His brows knit, but I don’t let him interrupt.
“I’m giving you one chance to break this off and keep your job,” I continue, voice steady, unwavering. “Mercy is the last thing you deserve, Noah.” His name leaves my lips like a curse.
His eye twitches.
“But the last thing I need is for her to have a breakdown because of your absence. So, you end this, and I will pick up the pieces. I will take care of her.”
I shove him back with a hand to his chest.
“You will do your fucking job.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t react.
Just watches me, unreadable, calculating.
Then, at last, a crack in the armor.
“You truly think Ana is suffering?” His voice is different now, thick with something unnameable.
The look in his eyes makes my stomach turn. For a moment, I almost second-guess myself.
But no.
This isn’t real.
This is manipulation.
The same kind of manipulation he used on Ana.
He does not care.
This is all a game to him.
“She’s drowning,” I say, my voice softer now, but no less cutting. “The question is, are you going to stop dragging her under?”
His jaw tenses. The air between us turns suffocating.
Then-
“Mr. Ackerman?”
The voice shatters the moment.
We both turn in unison.
Mrs. Briar stands in the doorway, her sharp gaze flicking between us.
How long has she been standing there? How much did she hear?
Ackerman’s entire body stiffens. My pulse hammers.
Her expression only grows colder.
I step back, throwing one last glance at Ackerman before leaving him with just a few parting words.
“Make the right choice.” My voice is low, final. “If you ever cared for her, you know what to do.”
And then I’m gone.
Mrs. Briar doesn’t stop me.
She just shuts the door behind me, sealing whatever conversation is about to happen on the other side.
A weight lifts from my chest, but it’s not gone. Not yet.
I pull out my phone, my fingers flying across the screen.
He won't be bothering you anymore.
Seconds pass.
Then-
What did you do?
I stare at the message. My grip tightens around my phone.
I saved you, Ana.
From pain. From heartbreak. From the clutches of Professor Ackerman.