Shame floods through me. We both know what happened to my last complaint at Westbrook, where my detailed report vanished into administrative limbo.
“The board chairman was quite concerned by your absence tonight,” Carson continues, checking his watch as if noting the time for a report. “Particularly after I shared my concerns about your emotional stability following our disagreement about professional boundaries.”
Ice slides through my veins as his strategy comes into focus. He’s already crafted the narrative of an unstable Omega, the dedicated administrator trying to help, and the regrettable breakdown that necessitates intervention.
“Your behavior patterns suggest increasing volatility.” Hetutsin quiet disappointment. “First with your documented violent behavior at Westbrook, then flaunting your promiscuity around students here… Not to mention how you refuse reasonable professional requests. And now isolation and erratic communication.”
Each accusation builds on a foundation of truth, twisting reality into something unrecognizable.
“The board relies on my assessments when evaluating staff concerns.” Carson straightens his already immaculate collar. “It would be a pity to throw all your years of educational training away.”
My split lip throbs with my pulse, the room swaying around me.
“Monday morning, eight o’clock. I expect you to be punctual when you report to my office,” Carson states, reaching for the door handle. “We’ll discuss your continued employment and Quinn’s accommodation review.”
He pauses, hand on the knob, his back to me in a display of confidence that I pose no threat, despite our size difference. “The natural order will always reassert itself, Leif. Fighting it only increases the pain of inevitable submission.”
The door opens and closes with a soft click, Carson’s footsteps fading down the corridor.
My knees give way, and I sink to the carpet once more, one hand braced on the floor as my breathing comes out in ragged gasps.
Carson’s cherries-and-iron pheromones linger in the air, still suffocating me after he’s gone.
The Alpha calculated this moment perfectly, and I walked right into his trap.
Isolation didn’t protect me. It only made me an easier target.
Here, there were no witnesses to Carson’s assault. No one knows where I am. No one was expecting to hear from me. The perfect conditions for the next phase of Carson’s systematic dismantling of my life.
On Monday morning, he expects me in his office, ready to accept whatever terms he dictates for my continued employment. Ready to submit.
The coppery tang of blood fills my mouth as I brace my hand on the bed, pulling myself upright in stages. My knees protest, and my head throbs with each beat of my heart. Blood drips onto the carpet, marking a trail from where I fell to where I now stand, unsteady but vertical.
I can’t stay here.
Can’t wait for him to change his mind and come back.
Can’t do this alone.
With a shaky hand, I gather my jacket from the closet and slip it on, zipping it up to my chin to hide the blood on my shirt.
Then I grab my wallet, my car keys, and get the hell out of there, once again running.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Emily
The fireplace casts amber light across the living room while the television flickers through the final act of some action movie Grady insisted we watch.
I sit tucked between him and Jared on the couch, with Jared’s arm draped heavily across my shoulders and Grady’s injured leg stretched over my lap while I work slow circles into the scarred muscle around his knee.
He groans under his breath, not in pain but in appreciation, and Jared’s thumb traces idle patterns along my collarbone.
For the first time all week, the ache beneath my sternum has quieted.
Not gone, but manageable, so when the tentative knock sounds at the door, my muscles tense before my brain catches up. Jared and Grady freeze on either side of me before Jared raises the remote to pause the movie.
“Expecting anyone?” Grady asks, his hand halfway to the popcorn bowl resting on his stomach.