CHAPTER TWELVE

LORENZO GRAYSON\ KERZHAKOV ©

Fuck.” I cursed under my breath as pain shot through my arm as I turned the wheel. The fresh stitch pulled tight, hot and sharp. I clenched my jaw and kept driving.

My phone rang while on the way to the college. It was Kyle.

I tapped the screen and put it on speaker.

“Yeah?”

“Are you driving?” His voice came quick, almost sharp.

“On my way to college,” I said. “What’s the problem?”

“That’s the problem, Enzo.” He let out a breath. “You just got that wound stitched. It’s still fresh. Why are you out?”

I gave a low chuckle. “I’m fine. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I’ll text you later,” I added, ready to end the call.

“Enzo.“ Kyle's tone stopped me.

I paused, clenching my fingers tight on the wheel.

“Listen to me,” Kyle said. “There’s no weight on your shoulders anyone. No duties, no orders. You can rest and just lie low for a while.”

I scoffed. “Lying low won’t stop Antonio. You know that.”

“It might slow him down.”

“It won’t.” My voice turned flat. “And I’m fine. I can manage. This is what legal people do, right?”

Kyle went quiet for a second, then he sighed. “Fine. If you say so.”

I ended the call and drove into the college lot. The world around me went silent for a brief second as the engine went off. Then the pain came back.

I stepped out of the car and shut the door. My grip on the briefcase tightened as I walked toward the building. My face stayed calm like always. But each step sent a dull sting through my arm.

“I need a smoke,” I muttered under my breath.

“Professor Grayson,” Professor Douglas called as she caught up with me on the way to the office.

“You’re back. Did you go for a check-up?”

“Yes, I did.” I simply said.

I stopped at the vending machine and got a cup of coffee. The heat burned my fingers through the cup, but it helped ground me.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked again. “You look pale. You should take a few days off.”

“I’m fine.” I didn’t look at her and walked away before she could say more.

“What’s with everyone telling me to rest…” I muttered.

An hour later, I stepped into the lecture hall.

Students filled the seats, the moment I walked in, their chatter died down. Eyes followed me like always.

“Good morning. Attendance first.” I said into the mic.

I called names one by one, my voice still steady and controlled as always. But my arm throbbed.

I felt my head ache at that moment. Still, I taught.

I moved through the lesson without pause, explaining, writing, asking questions.

“That will be all for today's class.” I said at last.

I picked up my briefcase and started walking back to my office. I needed a little rest before my next class.

“Professor Grayson, do you offer private tutoring?” a student called out as I made my way out of the lecture hall.

“I don’t do private lessons,” I replied without stopping or turning to check who it was.

“Sir… are you sick? You don’t look too well,” she said. “Most students kept asking the nerd about you, but he didn’t seem to know about your whereabout.”

I slowed down and turned to her with curiosity.

“Nerd? And who exactly is this nerd?” I asked.

She glanced around the hall before quietly pointing across the room. I followed her finger, then let out a small scoff.

“He’s a nerd?” I asked, and she nodded at once.

“He’s one of the brilliant students in sophomore year,” she explained. “He’s always reading, and he barely talks to anyone except the girl with him.”

I gave a small nod and started walking toward the so-called nerd.

Miss Campbell nudged him lightly, pulling his attention away from the book he was reading. His eyes lifted from Avery and landed on me.

Without a word, I raised my briefcase slightly, signaling for him to carry it. He glanced around at the students watching before quietly taking the bag from me and following behind.

I stopped for a moment and turned back to the young lady.

“Thank you for the information, miss. I’ll see if I can find someone for the tutoring,” I told her and continued toward my office.

“You seem quiet. That’s not what I expected,” I said softly, making sure only he could hear me.

“Did you ask Professor Douglas to check up on me?” he asked, sounding so curious.

I shook my head lightly and looked away for a second.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied calmly. He simply glanced at me and nodded.

“Are you okay, sir?” he asked, and I let out a quiet chuckle as I unlocked the office door and stepped inside with him behind me.

“What do you mean?” I asked, dropping my briefcase on the desk.

“I… I mean the last two nights,” he said, his voice shaky.

I glanced at him over my shoulder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He let out a small grunt. “The gunshot. That place where you got hurt, sir.”

A smirk tugged at my lips. “Still don’t have any idea what you're talking about.“

The next second, a sharp pain shot through my arm.

Did he just hit my injured arm?

“Kakogo cherta! {What the fuck!}” I hissed, grabbing the door handle for support as pain spread through me.

“I’m injured there. Did you seriously not know that?” I snapped, glaring at him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about… sir,” he replied, hesitating before saying the 'sir'.

I let out a quiet chuckle and shook my head in disbelief.

“I thought you were scared of being in the same room with a murderer,” I said, trying to make him nervous.

“Well… the murderer is… the murderer is injured,” he stammered as I slowly walked toward him. “That gives me the upper hand.”

He kept stepping back with every step I took until his back hit the door. I placed both hands on the wall beside him, trapping him between my arms.

“You were saying?” I asked softly.

He avoided my eyes and looked around the room instead.

“This is your briefcase, sir. I should get going now,” he muttered quickly.

I stared at him for a moment before stepping away from him. He placed the briefcase on my desk and hurried toward the door.

“You really need to rest, sir. A bullet wound can’t heal in just two days. You need food and sleep,” he said softly.

He opened the door to leave, then suddenly stopped like another thought had crossed his mind.

“Are you involved with loan sharks or some kind of gang?” he asked suddenly. “Because every single time I see you, someone is always trying to hurt you.”

I stared at him calmly.

“But weirdly, that’s not even what bothers me the most,” he continued. “What annoys me is the fact that I somehow keep showing up during those moments.”

He let out a long breath after speaking, like he had finally said something that had been sitting heavily in his chest.

I watched him with amusement while slowly spinning my chair from side to side.

He cleared his throat and avoided looking directly at me again.

“But…” He clears his throat. “Thank you for saving my life,” he said quietly before bowing his head a little.

I scoffed softly and leaned back in my chair.

Was he criticising me or thanking me?

I couldn’t stop the smile that appeared on my face as I watched him leave my office.