Chapter 4: Green

I sit in second period—housekeeping—next to Isla.

 

No dominants are present.

 

“He threw five tables at the wall. Daniel and Noah had to stop him from tearing the class down,” Isla whispers.

 

I shake my head, dread pooling in my stomach. “I have to find a dominant, Isla. What do I do?” I murmur, barely holding it together.

 

I press an ice pack to my cheek, the cold seeping in like another punishment.

 

“Find one without a submissive. There’s a few left,” Isla replies quietly.

 

“Like who?” I ask with a scoff.

 

“Gabriel? Mateo? Lucas?” she offers.

 

I shake my head again. Isla sighs deeply. “Find one, Dani. They’ll all be willing. Just fake it till you make it.”

 

The famous words whispered between girls in the female district. Fake it till you make it. Fake the submissiveness. Fake the obedience.

 

At the front of the classroom, the door opens. I don’t even look up. I already know it’s a dominant—only they enter without knocking.

 

“Any dominant would kill for the chance to have you as their submissive,” Isla murmurs as she scribbles something down.

 

“Because they want to beat me. And touch me,” I snap back, bitterness bleeding into my voice.

 

“It’s not as bad as you think it is, Dani. Just listen to your dominant, and you’ll be fine,” Isla replies calmly.

 

I sigh, exhaustion clawing at my bones.

 

Some hushed whispers from beside me catch my attention. I glance over. Rose and Ellie are both staring wide-eyed at the front of the classroom.

 

I follow their gaze.

 

Aiden fucking Abbott.

 

Another grade-A asshole. One of Henry’s inner circle—and probably the richest of them all. His father’s the most notorious lawyer in the underworld. He's represented some serious criminals.

 

They asked Aiden to be a stand-in teacher since no one else knows the law like he does.

 

Or knows how to twist it like he does.

 

Aiden’s still a student here, technically. But because of his wealth, his connections, and his reputation, he might as well own this place.

 

He's a novelty here. I've crossed paths with him on multiple occasions when Henry decided to taunt me, but I've never actually spoken to him.

 

Nor do I want to.

 

He’s easily the most handsome man at this university. But there’s something terrifying in how composed he always is. Nobody knows anything about him. Mysterious. Controlled. Utterly sadistic.

 

As if he feels my stare, his gaze lifts from the desk—and locks directly on mine.

 

And as always, there's a strange kernel on my stomach that stirs. Something flutters, something primal that screams at me to flee. His eyes are dark, a predator’s green that glows when it meets mine. It’s like he’s peeling me open with just a glance.

 

If resting bitch face had a god, it would be Aiden Abbott.

 

There are stories—so many stories. Of girls from town taken on his motorcycle, driven deep into the woods. Where no one hears them scream. He doesn’t have a submissive. Apparently, he doesn’t want one. He’s had many. Discarded them all like trash after he used them.

 

Some say he’s had sex with them—ruining them forever. Deemed unworthy for marriage.

 

Still, he’s the most sought-after dominant here.

 

I can't understand why. The man is a total sadist.

 

Is it his looks? His money? His power? His ties to royalty and crime? To the families who run the world?

 

I’d take Henry over him any day.

 

Compared to Aiden, Henry’s a tame little puppy. One I could eventually break. Henry just needs to be played right. Aiden? Aiden doesn’t come with a manual. He’s a storm in a suit. A maniac.

 

Not that it matters. He’s a teacher now. Teachers aren’t allowed to mingle with submissives. Even this place needs some boundaries. And teacher-student is strictly forbidden.

 

I should look away. We’re not supposed to hold eye contact with males. Especially not dominants. It’s a punishable offense. A severe one.

 

But I don’t.

 

There's a look of pure control in his eyes, of utter dominance. A single glance says 'get on your knees.'

 

I will not.

 

The door opens again, breaking the tension. I look toward the sound—David steps in. Another one of their group.

 

He walks straight toward the front, his body loose with arrogance.

 

We all sit up straighter, spines aligned, ankles crossed, pens in hand. Perfect posture. Perfect silence.

 

David turns to the class, his eyes scanning like a hunter.

 

Until they land on me.

 

“Danika,” he says loudly.

 

“David,” I answer coolly.

 

Mistake.

We’re not supposed to say their names. It's Sir. Master. Or some other ridiculous title.

 

“I heard you need a dominant by tomorrow morning,” he announces with a smirk.

 

I swallow. There’s no point in denying it. The headmaster would’ve made sure everyone knows I’m up for grabs. I'm theirs to claim.

 

“I do,” I reply, my heart sinking.

 

David’s grin widens. “People are betting on who’ll take you. Who’ll break the untouchable.”

 

“I decide who I want,” I say firmly, even though my chest aches with fear.

 

He laughs. “I love how they gave you girls the illusion of choice. Like you have any real power. Whoever wants you, Danika, will take you.”

 

“I'd like to see them try, David,” I say with a fake, sweet tone as I place my elbows on the table and lean forward. ”Tell the rest of your sheep I'm not some toy they can win.”

 

Anger floods his face instantly.

 

They never take disobedience well. Never handle being challenged. The first thing they resort to is anger.

 

“Danika.”

 

I nearly drop my pencil at Aiden's voice. The way my name rolls of his tongue feels dangerous, like my name is an order in itself. The promise of pain licks through my nervous system.

 

Everyone turns to look. The room is dead silent.

 

“One more word,” Aiden says, his eyes locked on mine, “and we’ll cut out your tongue.”

 

Chills break across my skin.

 

His voice is calm. Controlled. But there's steel in it. And I believe him. He’ll do it. He’s done worse.

 

“The untouchable should know better than to behave like this when her life is in our hands.”

 

His words aren’t dramatic. They’re real.

 

His eyebrow arches. Daring me to argue. Daring me to test him.

 

“If you think you’re not a toy, think again,” he continues. “You’re lucky some men are willing to take you. You live in delusion if you think that attitude will not mean the end of your life.”

 

Even the male teacher beside him pulls back, as if trying to avoid being burned by proximity. That’s the kind of power Aiden Abbott walks with. They seem to stay away from him at all cost. It's like he's not even human.

 

The silence that follows is suffocating. My mouth is full of replies, biting retorts ready to strike—but I stay silent.

 

One more second of eye contact, and then he turns. Walks away. Unbothered. Dangerous. A lion in the middle of sheep. We all stare at him. He doesn't care.

 

David follows close behind, smirking at me like the rat he is.

 

I should stop.

I really should.

But I can’t.

 

“Aiden,” I call out, my voice loud and clear.

 

He halts instantly—but doesn’t turn. Doesn’t look at me. Just stands still, like stone.

 

But he’s listening.

 

And my heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape my chest.