31. Chapter 31
Chapter 31
Anastasia
" I s this allowed?" Noah whispers, his voice low, his nose still red from Roman’s punch.
I don’t give him a chance to protest. Gripping his wrist, I drag him toward the center of the gazebo, weaving through the swaying couples under the golden glow of the lights.
"It’s for charity," I whisper back. "Teachers sponsor dances with students. It’s a way to show how ‘hands-on’ the staff is." I smirk, dabbing away the last trace of blood from his skin. "Besides, we need to talk about what the hell I just saw."
Other staff members awkwardly shuffle with students, the hum of the music masking our conversation.
I tilt my head, arching a brow. "So, dance with me, Professor."
Noah doesn’t hesitate. His hands find my waist as I wrap my arms around his neck, the warmth of his touch grounding me. His eyes roam over my face, lingering like he’s memorizing every detail.
"You look fucking breathtaking, Princess," he murmurs.
Heat rises to my cheeks.
"You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome," I tease. Then, pressing closer, I add, "But flattery aside, you’re telling me what just happened."
He exhales slowly, pulling me into a gentle sway. His grip tightens.
"I’m handling the problem."
"By letting Roman Briar punch you?" I scoff.
Noah shakes his head, leaning in just enough that his breath ghosts across my skin. "Jake needs to believe I threatened Roman. He needs to think I’m under his control."
I narrow my eyes. "And the truth?"
Noah hesitates, then quietly, "I asked Roman for help."
I stiffen. A chill snakes down my spine. "How do you know that’s safe? How do you know Roman won’t lump you in with-"
"I don’t." His voice is resolute. "All I know is that you will be safe. That’s the only thing that matters to me right now."
The song slows, and he dips me back with it.
For a moment, everything else fades. Our noses barely graze, his grip steady, his breath mingling with mine.
"That will be the only thing that ever matters to me," he whispers, his gaze locking onto mine, "so long as you are in my life."
I want to kiss him.
Fuck.
I want to kiss him and disappear from this place. I want to run, far, far away, and never look back.
But the moment shatters.
"Anastasia!"
The voice slices through the air, sharp and grating.
Noah tenses, his hands steadying me as he pulls me upright. We both turn.
Cole.
He stands at the edge of the gazebo, a smirk stretched across his face, his eyes gleaming with something sinister.
"Sorry to cut in, Professor," Cole drawls. "But I have someone here who’s excited to see Ana."
I step toward him, ready to slap the smug look off his face.
But then he shifts aside.
And my world stops.
I freeze. My breath catches.
No.
Standing there, no longer needing support, his posture strong, his presence undeniable—
My father.
His eyes meet mine, warm, alive, vibrant in a way I haven’t seen in so long.
"Hi, honey," he whispers.
The chaos around me vanishes.
The weight of my reality, the threats, the danger, the fear, it all dissolves.
Because for the first time in what feels like forever, my father looks alive.
"Dad?" My voice is barely a whisper.
"It was supposed to be a surprise," Cole says. "I thought-"
I don’t let him finish.
I throw myself into my father’s arms, holding him as tightly as I possibly can. His warmth, his strength, it’s all there, real and solid, something I never thought I’d feel again. Over his shoulder, I catch my mother’s eyes. She smiles, lifting her camera to snap a picture, her joy undeniable. My dad grins, matching her excitement, and for a fleeting moment, the world feels right.
"I missed you, Bean," he murmurs, his embrace strong, his voice thick with emotion.
I squeeze my eyes shut. "I missed you more."
"Cole, dear," my mom chimes in, her voice light and curious. "Who is Ana’s friend?"
I stiffen.
Reality crashes back in, and I’m instantly torn from the moment. My glare lands on Cole, sharp and unforgiving.
Before he can answer, Megan steps in, her tone bright but pointed. "Professor Ackerman here is one of the best English teachers in the department."
She loops an arm through Elijah’s, dragging him and their parents into the conversation.
"Isn’t that right, Elijah?"
Elijah catches on immediately, his usual easygoing grin turning smug. "Absolutely. Cole doesn’t have a single one of his classes. In fact-" he turns toward Cole, eyes glinting "-Cole should probably screw off."
"Oh, Cole, honey," Megan’s mother coos. "We haven’t seen you in so long-"
Megan doesn’t miss a beat. "That’s because he’s not a part of Ana’s life anymore." Her voice is sweet, her smile sharper than glass. "Run along."
Cole’s jaw tightens. His hands flex at his sides, his control slipping just enough for his frustration to show. Then, with a slow, venomous smile, he steps back.
"It was nice seeing you both," he hisses. "I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to hear just how much time Professor Ackerman has been spending with your daughter."
A heavy silence settles over the group.
My grip on my dad tightens as I glance at Noah, suddenly acutely aware of just how many people are watching. The weight of Cole’s words lingers, but I force a bright smile, turning to my mom.
"Mom, why don’t you meet Elijah and Megan’s parents?" I suggest smoothly.
She hesitates but takes the hint, letting Megan guide her toward Elijah and her family.
That leaves just them.
Noah and my father.
The two men stand face to face, their expressions unreadable. No hostility, no immediate warmth, just quiet assessment.
Then, after a pause, my dad extends his hand. "Noah Ackerman," he says, his voice even. "It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh."
Noah doesn’t hesitate. He reaches out, shaking my father’s hand firmly, a genuine smile crossing his lips. "The honor is all mine, sir. I’ve heard such great things about you and your work."
My dad chuckles. "So you’re saying they miss me here?"
I cut in before the conversation can go any further. "Dad?" My voice is quiet, edged with disbelief. "How… how are you here? How are you so-"
"Alive?" He grins. "That’s a conversation for another time, Bean. Tonight is about you. Wouldn’t want to waste Mr. Ackerman’s money talking about my recovery."
My stomach drops.
What?
Snapping my gaze to Noah, I find him looking, of all things, embarrassed.
"Do you care to explain?" My eyes narrow.
Noah shifts uncomfortably under my stare.
"Oh, Ana, don’t be so hard on him," my dad interjects. "I tried to explain to all my old co-workers back here I couldn’t make it because of the travel costs, but Noah here overheard and generously offered to bring me and your mother out for the event, so long as I upheld my promise to give him some tips about my time here."
I blink.
Slowly, I turn to Noah, my mind struggling to process what I just heard.
"Y-you did that?"
Noah shrugs, ever so casual. "I’d do it for any of my students." Then, with a small, knowing smile, he adds, "Especially ones as special as you."
Noah fucking Antonov just flew my father out here.
Just so I could see him. Just so I could have this moment.
There is nothing, and I mean nothing, I could ever do to repay that.
He gained nothing from it. No personal reward, no strategic advantage. And yet, the smile on Noah’s face is the biggest I’ve ever seen.
Admiration. Depth. Love.
It’s all written in his expression.
My father finally breaks the silence. "Cole," he says, shifting the conversation. "Your friends made it seem like things ended badly-"
At the mention of his name, my attention flickers past Noah and my dad.
Cole stands at the drink table, his shoulders hunched, his expression hollow. His hand moves lazily, pouring himself another drink, the tension in his frame unmistakable.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, Jake.
He nudges his chin in Cole’s direction, casual, deliberate. Then, slowly, he lifts his hand, shaping his fingers into the shape of a gun.
Pointing it directly at my father.
My stomach twists. A silent warning. A promise wrapped in a threat.
I snap my gaze away, forcing my expression to remain neutral.
"Noah," I whisper, my voice barely above a breath.
I don’t even think about my use of his first name. I just need to get away, need to breathe before the panic sets in.
"Why don’t you update my dad while I grab him a drink?" I say, already stepping back, desperate to put distance between myself and Jake’s veiled threat.
Noah hesitates. My father, however, chuckles. "Noah?" he repeats, amused. "You let your students call you by your first name?"
I glance at Noah. His jaw tightens. His fingers fidget at his collar, his wide eyes darting to mine, silently pleading for backup.
Before I can step in, my dad grins.
"Good," he declares. "I love it. I’ve always hated Spokehaven’s uptight rules. First names always made the staff seem more human."
Thank God for my dad’s relentless optimism.
Noah exhales, shoulders dropping just slightly.
I force a smile, my heart still hammering. "Let me get you both a drink while you chat," I say quickly, stepping away before either of them can question me further.
I need air.
And I need to figure out how the hell I’m going to keep my father safe.
Jake lingers near the drink tables, waiting.
Waiting for me to follow.
I hold my breath, forcing my feet to move, weaving through the crowd with careful, measured steps. I don’t dare look back at Noah or my dad. If I do, I might hesitate. If I hesitate, I might panic.
Cole and Walker blend in effortlessly, sipping their drinks, laughing with professors like this is just another night, another gathering of Spokehaven’s elite. But their eyes, sharp, waiting, and predatory, stay locked on me.
I keep my head down, my fingers tightening around my phone, concealing it behind my back like a lifeline.
Then, I meet him.
Jake’s cold gaze holds mine, his lips curving into a slow, satisfied smirk. A thrill dances in his eyes, like a cat finally cornering its prey.
"It would seem my message was clear," he murmurs.
My chest tightens. "Leave my dad out of this."
Jake steps closer, his breath ghosting against my face. "You don’t get to make the rules, Anastasia," he growls.
His voice is low, laced with warning.
"I need you to come with me." He nods subtly toward Cole and Walker. "They’ll wait until you’ve complied before they follow. Do anything stupid and all it takes is one text, one order, and dear old dad gets a bullet in the back of his head."
A pause.
A grin.
"Maybe your mom too. I doubt you want to be an orphan."
The ground beneath me shifts, my pulse hammering in my ears. But I don’t let it show. Instead, I glare, stepping closer until there’s barely any space between us.
"Get to the point."
Jake tilts his head, amused, but he doesn’t see what I’m doing.
With slow, deliberate movements, I slide my phone into his coat pocket. He won’t expect that. He won’t realize what I’ve done. Not yet.
Then, in a single, brutal movement, he grabs my wrist and drags me away.
I stumble on my heels, struggling to keep his pace, the sound of laughter and conversation fading behind us. As soon as we’re out of sight, he shoves me against the nearest wall.
The air is knocked from my lungs.
"Gotta make sure you don’t have anything on you."
His hands roam. Careless. Cruel. Unapologetic.
I want to scream.
His fingers linger too long on my chest, my hips.
My skin crawls.
"Get your fucking hands off me.
The punch comes fast, blunt and merciless.
Pain explodes across my nose. I stagger, the sharp taste of blood spilling onto my lips. A hot, throbbing ache blooms in my skull, my breath ragged as I register what just happened.
Jake flexes his fingers, his expression calm. "That was gentle." His voice is almost amused. "Tell me what to do again and I’ll make sure you see stars."
He finishes his search, his movements slower now, taunting. Then, smoothly, he pulls something from his waistband.
Cold metal presses into my side.
A gun.
Jake’s smirk deepens, his finger resting lazily on the trigger. "Care for a ride?"
My stomach plummets.
Nothing has ever scared me more.