Chapter 2

Monday morning came faster than I wanted. I hadn’t slept properly since that night in the alley. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the blood. I saw the knife, and saw him.

I walked into my psychology lecture room with my chest tight, praying today would feel normal. But when the new professor turned to face the class, my stomach dropped, and my whole body went numb.

It was him.

The man who stabbed someone right in front of me. The man who held a knife to my throat and told me to run.

He stood there in a black suit, calm and untouchable, as though none of it had ever happened.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice smooth and collected. “I’m Professor Zander. I’ll be taking you through this course for the semester.”

The classroom buzzed with whispers. Girls giggled softly, already swooning over the new professor’s looks. The guys leaned back, unimpressed. But no one, no one saw what I saw. His hands. His eyes. That night.

I sat frozen, my notebook open but blank, my pen shaking in my grip. He lectured without notes, speaking with authority, like he owned the room. Every word he spoke slid past me. All I could hear was his voice in my head that night: Run. Don’t look back.

Then, his eyes found mine.

My breath caught in my throat. His gaze pinned me to my seat, cold and steady. My heart pounded so loud, I thought the whole class could hear it.

“Miss…” His voice was deep, and deliberate. “You there. Answer the question.”

It took me a second to realize he was talking to me. Everyone turned, staring. My lips parted, but my voice cracked as I fumbled out an answer I wasn’t sure even made sense. A ripple of laughter passed through the room.

His expression didn’t change. But the way his eyes stayed on me, steady and sharp, made my skin prickle.

The rest of class dragged on painfully, but I could feel it. His attention. His gaze pressed down on me. And when the bell finally rang, I thought I was free.

Until he spoke.

“You,” he said, pointing straight at me. “My office. Now.”

Gasps and whispers broke out across the lecture hall. A few girls giggled, whispering about how lucky I was. If only they knew.

My stomach twisted as I stood. My legs felt like they didn’t want to carry me, but I forced myself to move. I could feel every eye on me as I followed him out of the classroom, down the quiet hallway.

By the time we reached his office, my palms were slick with sweat. He opened the door and walked in first, leaving it open just long enough for me to step inside.

The door clicked shut behind me.

Before I could even breathe, he spun around. In one smooth motion, he grabbed my wrists and flipped me, pressing me forward against his desk. My palms flattened against the cold wood as he pinned my arms behind my back.

A gasp tore from my throat.

My body stiffened, fear crashing through me. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

His breath was in my ear when he spoke, low and mocking.

“Your book…” His grip tightened. “Quite interesting.”

My heart stopped. My bag. My book. I had left them in the alley that night. With him. My heart pounded in my chest.

“Are… are you going to hurt me?” The question left me in a shaky whisper, my throat tight, my voice betraying me.

His eyes narrowed, a dark gleam flashing in them. His mouth curved into something cruel.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he corrected, each word drawn out with slow, lethal certainty. “I’ll give you every filthy thing you fantasize about, and I’ll claim every inch of you until there’s nothing left to hide behind.”

My stomach twisted, my heart hammering so loud I thought it might split my chest. I opened my mouth, desperate to speak, to say no, to plead, but nothing came out.

The sharp sting of cold steel brushed against my thigh. Before I could blink, I heard the rasp of fabric tearing. My maxi skirt slid down in limp shreds, pooling around my ankles. My legs locked together instinctively, but it was too late. I was left standing in nothing but a thin scrap of lace between me and him.

He cut me open, literally, without hesitation.

“Please… please, I—I—” My voice broke, trembling.

He dropped my wrists only to spin me around to face him. The knife flashed again, clean and merciless. My top gave way under the blade, fabric falling to the floor. Heat crawled up my chest as I scrambled to cover myself, left in just a lace bra and g-string that suddenly felt obscene under his gaze.

Tears stung my eyes as I tried to shield my breasts with shaking hands. “Please… don’t do this… I beg you—”

His jaw tightened, cutting off my words. His hand clamped around my throat, firm and punishing, while the knife pressed against the soft skin of my stomach. His voice was cold wrapped in darkness.

“This is your punishment,” he said, low and final. “For letting you walk away that night instead of ending you.”

My breath hitched. His grip tightened, forcing my chin up.

“Be a good girl,” he said, cocky, and dangerous. “Move your hands. Don’t you dare hide from me.”

My body shook, but slowly and hesitantly, I obeyed, moving my hands away from my chest. My arms hung useless at my sides, every nerve screaming, every instinct begging me to run. But his eyes… his command… froze me in place.

The knife clicked against the desk as he set it down. He took two deliberate steps back, raking his gaze over me from head to toe, his smirk deepening when my knees trembled under his gaze.

“Strip.”

The single word cracked across the room like a whip.

Tears slid down my cheeks. My lips trembled. I shook my head slightly, silently begging. His eyes darkened, his voice took a darker tone, dangerous and cold.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

My stomach lurched. My fingers fumbled at the clasp of my bra, shaking so badly that it almost slipped. The lace slipped free, baring me to him. Shame burned across my skin. My panties came next, slipping down my thighs until I stood naked, every inch of me trembling.

I shut my eyes tight, as if darkness could swallow the moment, as if it could erase the humiliation.

But silence stretched.

And when I finally forced my eyes open, his gaze was waiting, locked on me, steady and unyielding. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched, and the hunger in his eyes made my pulse stutter.

Slowly, he moved forward. His shadow fell over me before his hands gripped my waist. In one effortless motion, he carried me onto the desk, spreading my legs open with brutal finality. The cool wood pressed against my bare skin as his presence caged me in.

Fear knotted in my chest, thick and heavy. But beneath it, betraying me, something hotter coiled low in my stomach, something I didn’t want, something I hated myself for feeling.

His smirk deepened as his gaze dropped between my thighs.

“You’re not even open yet,” he murmured, his tone thick with disdain. “And still, you dream of darkness deeper than you can handle.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “I… I didn’t mean any of it—”

The words snapped off in a choked gasp when his mouth closed over me.

Heat, wet and searing, flooded me as his tongue slid against my clit. My body jolted, arching back against the desk. My lips parted helplessly as an unintentional moan slipped free.

“Ahhh—”

His eyes lifted, locking on mine as his tongue teased in maddening circles. His thumb pressed firmly against me, rubbing with ruthless precision. My thighs trembled, my body betraying me as waves of shame and unwanted pleasure crashed together.

I bit down on my lip, trying to stop the sounds, but another moan broke loose, trembling and raw. My fingers clawed against the desk, scraping wood as sparks shot through me.

I hated it. I hated the heat, the ache, the way he looked at me like he owned me already. But my body didn’t care. My body leaned into it, shivering with every flick of his tongue.

Fear still burned hot in my chest, but lust… lust was consuming me whole.