#Chapter 12: The Accusation

Lila's POV

The café went quiet.

Derek crossed the floor in three strides. Students at nearby tables looked up from their laptops. A girl in the corner lowered her coffee cup.

He didn't stop until I could smell the grass and sweat on his jersey. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscles in his neck stood out.

"So this is what you've been doing." His voice was low and ugly. "I thought you were busy training. Turns out you've been baking cakes for your professor."

He grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the table. My chair scraped against the floor.

"Let go of me."

"When did you start this?" His fingers dug into my bicep. He steered me toward the hallway, away from the staring crowd. "Was it before or after you dumped me? How long have you been sneaking around behind my back like a —"

"Don't finish that sentence."

He finished it anyway. The word hit me like a slap.

I looked at him. Really looked. The boy I'd loved for three years, brought coffee to every morning, skipped exams for. The boy who'd been sleeping with my supposed best friend the entire time.

"You cheated on me," I said. "With her. In the hotel room next to the one where I was supposed to surprise you. You called me boring. You called me a wolfless waste. So don't stand here and act like I owe you loyalty."

His face went red. "That's different."

"How?"

"I'm an alpha." As if that explained everything. "My father is the pack king. Your father is his beta. You're supposed to follow me. That's how it works. That's how it's always worked."

Something cold and clean clicked into place behind my ribs.

"I'm a beta's daughter," I said. "Not a beta's property. I don't want to spend my life trailing behind someone. I want to be strong enough to stand on my own."

He blinked. For a second, something uncertain flickered across his face — like he was looking at someone he didn't quite recognize.

It vanished.

"Did you sleep with him?" His voice dropped. "That professor. Did he touch you? He's a teacher — if anyone found out he's messing around with a student, his career would be —"

"We danced at a bonfire. I brought him cake for a school project. That's all."

"You expect me to believe that?" He shook his head slowly. "The girl who couldn't even kiss me without going stiff. The girl who made me wait three years. And now you're baking desserts for your professor like some kind of —"

"She already answered your question."

That voice came from behind me. Level. Unhurried. The temperature in the hallway dropped three degrees.

The professor stood at the café entrance with his arms at his sides. He hadn't raised his voice. He hadn't moved fast. He was there, and the hallway felt much smaller.

"You two are no longer together," he said. "Who she sees, what she does, who she sleeps with. None of it is your business."

A crowd was gathering now. Students peeked around corners. Phones appeared.

I stepped forward. "Last night was a dance. Today was a piece of cake. The only person here with a filthy mind is you."

Derek stared at me. Then past me, at the professor. Then back at me.

"Fine." He held up both hands. "I get it. I messed up. I should have told you about her sooner. Come home and we'll talk about it."

"I already have a new boyfriend." The lie came out smooth and cold. I hadn't planned it. "So stop wasting your time."

His face went white, then red, then a mottled shade between the two.

"You're lying."

"Believe whatever you want." I turned and walked past him. "We're done. Don't contact me again."

I made it four steps.

"What if I don't let you leave?" His voice was low. Dangerous. The alpha in him was bleeding through. "What if I decide you're coming with me whether you like it or not?"

He grabbed my shoulder.

The impact was instant. One step, one arm. The professor caught Derek's wrist, spun him, and pressed him face-first into the wall. The plaster cracked. My ex's cheek smashed flat against it.

He held him pinned with one hand. The same hand that had rested on my waist during our dance pressed my ex into the wall like he weighed nothing.

"Try again," he said. "I'll wait."

Derek was breathing hard. His eyes were wild. "You can't do this. My father gave this school its new library. The police chief is a family friend. You're just a professor — you can't touch me."

His expression didn't change.

"Then let's see if your father can post your bail."

Sirens cut through the courtyard. Two patrol cars pulled up to the campus gate. Four officers in tactical gear stepped out. They crossed the lawn in formation, badges glinting.

Within three minutes, Derek was in handcuffs. The charge: alcohol-related sexual harassment, based on complaints filed after the bonfire.

He went loudly. He pointed at the professor with his cuffed hands and laughed — an ugly, stretched-out laugh that echoed across the courtyard.

"You think this means anything?" He jerked his chin at the officers. "My father and the police chief play golf every Sunday. I'll be out before dinner."

He didn't look up from his phone.

"Then I'm sure he'll enjoy posting your bail."

The officers led my ex through the crowd. Students parted. Phones filmed. By tomorrow morning, the video would have hundreds of views on the campus forum.

He tucked his phone into his pocket and walked back into the café without looking at me.

The chocolate cake was still on the table. Half eaten.

I stood in the emptying hallway with my pulse hammering and my hands balled at my sides.

I'd told Derek I had a new boyfriend. That was a lie. Professor Aldrich had defended me twice now, once at the bonfire and once here, and it didn't mean what the crowd thought it meant.

But my chest ached anyway. A dull, heavy warmth I didn't want to name.