8

Samirah’s POV

This was my second time in Vice-Chancellor’s office and my reservation about this place was quite the same as the first.

It was too quiet, smelled of old leather, and a faint, bitter scent I couldn’t name. I sat perfectly upright in a plush velvet armchair, my fingers loosely crossed over my knee, projecting a calm I didn't entirely feel.

The doors burst open.

Two hulking military Gammas practically threw Vickerry Adams into the room. He stumbled, his boots scuffing against the Persian rug before he caught his balance.

My breath hitched in my throat, a sudden wave of shock washing over me.

He was a complete and bloody mess. His designer jacket was torn and stained with dirt, his lip was split open, bleeding down his chin, and a dark bruise was already blooming across his left cheekbone.

I didn’t expect him to be rough handled like this, but he deserved.

For a split second, a flicker of terror passed through me. This was the work of the Admoon Pack’s elite military wing. But I forced my self to look completely indifferent about his current state, not even a blink.

The Vice-Chancellor, Professor Arthur Vance, cleared his throat from behind his massive desk. He didn't look up from the folder in front of him immediately. And When he finally did, his golden Alpha eyes fixed coldly on a battered Vickerry filled me with an uncanny kind of satisfaction.

"Alpha Vickerry Adams," Vice-Chancellor Vance barked, his voice laced with the heavy weight of authority. "Do you know this young lady?"

Vickerry grumbled something unintelligible beneath his breath, wiping a smear of blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I cannot hear you, Mr Adams," Vance said, his tone dropping an octave, carrying a subtle, warning thread of Alpha command.

"Yes," Vickerry snapped, his posture tense, his chest heaving. He slowly turned his head toward me, his piercing eyes burning with fury. "Yes, I know her." He chuckled glaring directly at me. "So, this was your response, Professor? To run along and report me to the Vice-Chancellor like a child? Is this your twenty-four-hour feedback?"

"Watch your tone, Mr Adams!" Vice-Chancellor Vance slammed his palm onto the desk. "You will not address a distinguished staff member of this university in that disgraceful manner. Sit down!"

Vickerry didn't sit. Instead, he gripped the back of the opposing armchair, his knuckles turning white as he snarled at the VC. "How dare you? How dare you have me dragged across the quadrangle and disgraced in front of the entire school? You embarrassed me! You know damn well my father heavily funds this institution! Without the Adams family name, half of these buildings wouldn't even exist!"

Vice-Chancellor Vance slowly leaned back in his leather chair, completely unimpressed by the outburst. He removed his reading glasses and set them deliberately on the folder.

"That is precisely the problem, Vickerry," Vance said quietly, though his words carried a lethal edge. "You come from a highly respectable, elite background, yet you consistently behave like a total retard from the gutters of the slums. People would absolutely kill to have your level of privilege, your wealth, your lineage. But it is no secret that you have been nothing but an insufferable nuisance on this campus since the day you enrolled."

Vickerry opened his mouth to protest, but Vance raised a strict finger, silencing him.

"Harassing and sexually badgering a female staff member on her very first day was finally enough to push your father’s hand," Vance continued, his eyes narrowing. "General Havoc Adams does not tolerate dishonour. He was the one who authorized the elite guard to apprehend you the moment Professor Alvarez brought this to my attention."

"I didn't—" Vickerry started to deny the accusation, his voice defensive, but he suddenly froze. The realization of whatever Proff Vance had said seemed to hit him like a physical blow. His jaw slacked slightly, his eyes widening. "My... my father?"

Throughout the entire exchange, I sat quietly in my chair, a small, controlled smile playing on my lips. I adjusted my posture, looking at him with an expression of unbothered curiosity.

"You didn't what, Mr Adams?" I asked, my voice smooth and perfectly measured. "Are you going to deny the crude, disrespectful sexual remarks you passed at me in front of a packed lecture theatre? Are you going to deny cornering and bothering me at the faculty parking lot, trying to use your family's influence to intimidate me?"

I paused, the memory of him standing in my kitchen, shirtless in a white singlet, flashing vividly through my mind. The urge to mention him breaking into my private residence, and disguising himself as a plumber danced on the tip of my tongue. But I stopped myself and I didn’t know why.

I turned my head away from Vickerry, looking directly at the Vice-Chancellor. "Professor Vance, it is quite evident that Vickerry has absolutely no respect for women, let alone the academic authorities of this institution. I want an unreserved apology from him. Right now."

Vickerry’s head snapped back toward me, his chest expanding as he let out a sharp, incredulous scoff. "What? An apology? I will never apologize to you."

Vice-Chancellor Vance didn't hesitate. He reached for a document on his desk, sliding it into a drawer. "Then you are explicitly begging for an expulsion, Vickerry. And you sure as hell know what your father’s response will be if a report of your unflinching insolence and official expulsion gets back to the General’s desk. Do you think he will coddle you?"

The threat hung heavily in the air. Vickerry’s fangs twitched behind his split lip, his inner Alpha wolf clearly warring with the bitter reality of his situation.

He swallowed hard, looking down at the carpet, his shoulders tense. "Fine," he grumbled, the word barely audible. "I'm sorry."

I let out a soft, deliberate sigh, shaking my head with amusement. "What for? I'm sorry, Mr Adams, but what exactly are you apologizing for?"

Vickerry snapped his gaze up, his eyes flashing red. "I just said it!"

I knew I was being annoying but I continued.

"According to basic behavioral psychology," I said, leaning forward and adopting my best lecturing tone, "an unreserved apology for wrongdoing requires three distinct elements. First, an explicit acknowledgment of the specific mistake made. Second, an understanding of the negative impact it caused. And third, a genuine expression of remorse. Simply grumbling 'I'm sorry' to the floorboards is a textbook example of avoiding accountability. Do it the right way."

I could literally feel the waves of unadulterated hatred radiating from his eyes. His Alpha pride was being utterly dismantled, piece by piece, by an Omega professor. But I did not care. He had threatened to take me forcefully in my own kitchen; he deserved every ounce of this public degradation.

Vickerry took a deep, ragged breath, his hands shaking as he forced himself to look at me.

"I apologize, Professor Alvarez," he ground out through clenched teeth, each word dripping with venom. "I apologize for passing disrespectful remarks in your classroom and for harassing you at your vehicle. I recognize that my behavior was inappropriate for a student."

Vice-Chancellor Vance looked over at me, raising an eyebrow. "Are you satisfied with the apology, Professor?"

I took a slow, deliberate breath, offering Vickerry one last, lingering look of academic pity. "I can tell it is entirely not from a place of genuine remorse, Vice-Chancellor. But for now, this will do."