One Night With My Alpha Professor
But now, he was here, standing in front of me, holding out a drawing like a peace offering.
With a smile, I took it gently, carefully unfolding the paper. But my smile faded as I stared down at the image in my hands.
It was just like his other drawings—dark, stark lines, the same unsettling red and blacks—but this one was different. It wasn’t just a vague scene. It was a face.
A man’s face, drawn in heavy black strokes. Dark eyes, a cruel mouth. And beneath it, in the wobbly handwriting of a child, was a name.