Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Shuffling ensues as a tall, broad man walks into class. Everyone heads to their seat, and the girls who were fighting about dibs squeal.
“He’s drop-dead gorgeous,” one of them whispers.
“Lock me up, Your Honor,” the other says, and they giggle like schoolgirls.
Damn hormonal college kids.
I drag my gaze to the professor again and pause.
Because he’s watching me.
Among everyone in the entire lecture hall, his gray, dead, and absolutely disturbing eyes are set on me.
My skin prickles and my wound burns.
Before he even speaks, before he opens his mouth and I confirm my suspicion, a deep premonition slashes through my skin and my demons roar in their pit, devouring each other alive.
His dead gaze remains on me as he says, “Hello, class. My name is Kayden Lockwood, and I’m your criminal law professor.”
4
GARETH
Kayden Lockwood.
That’s the name of the motherfucker who used my mouth to get off last night.
The man who held me at gunpoint, grazed my hand with a bullet, and called me grotesque, a whore, and a useful hole, among other things.
The asshole who humiliated me like no one else has.
I woke up today dead set on revenge, on finding him and making him bleed. I considered striking a deal with Yulian, where I provide him with an invitation to the initiation and he gives me the identity of this motherfucker.
But that’s no longer necessary.
Because the bastard is looking at me.
And I’m finally putting a face to the voice of the man I’ve been fantasizing about stabbing a thousand times.
A sharp jaw, features carved with subtle authority, and jet-black hair that’s cropped tight on the sides but long enough on top to be styled back with ruthless precision. His full, defined lips are set in a cold, impassive line as if he finds this entire ordeal bland. Faint stubble brushes his cheeks, enhancing the rough edge of his quiet confidence.
But what truly gave him away the second I saw him?
The eyes. Still dead and empty, like they’ve seen too much, felt too little. The deepest shade of a storm, rolling, brewing, and heightening with no intention of ever calming down.
His tailored slacks match the color of his eyes, and his white shirt stretches across his chest, clinging to the hard lines of muscle, every inch of it pulling across his body. The fabric strains around his biceps that tighten and flex with every movement like when he fucked my mouth.
When he grabbed my hair, shoved my head against his groin, and came down my throat. He’s now standing in front of me as my professor of criminal law.
Professor. Not a bodyguard as I suspected.
A damn professor.
Why was a goddamn professor in the Serpents’ mansion? Holding a gun, wearing Yulian’s mask, and forcing a student to his knees?
The class seems to hold their collective breath at his introduction, the air thick with the weight of his presence. Everyone seems frozen, drawn in by the sheer force of him—his domineering, magnetic energy filling every corner of the hall.
Even I feel it, and I’m usually immune to the pull of other people’s auras.
“Welcome to criminal law.” He speaks in that same deep, calm voice that makes my skin prickle. “This is not a course about theory or abstract principles; this is about understanding the very foundation of justice in society. Through this course, we will examine how the law distinguishes between right and wrong, but more importantly, how it punishes the wrongs.”
Is this bastard hearing a word he’s saying? How can he talk about punishing wrongs with a straight face after what he’s done?
“Gosh, he sounds so hot.” Morgan trails her red nails over my arm as she whispers in my ear, and this time, I’m about to scoot away.
Or I’ll bang her head on the desk for continuing to fucking touch me.
The prof’s eyes flit to me for a brief second, and I glare back.
“You, over there.” He juts his chin in my direction. “It appears you’ve mistaken this classroom for a social gathering. While I’m sure your companion finds your attention flattering, I suggest you remember where you are. This is a place for rigorous intellectual engagement, not an opportunity to parade your schoolboy charms.”
The whole class falls into oppressive silence.
Morgan’s face turns all shades of red.
I grab a pen in my hand to stop myself from jumping down there and throttling him on the spot.
He’s humiliating me on purpose. In front of the whole class.
A class that only knows me as a golden boy.
I let my lips curl into a smile. “Of course, Professor. I’ll be sure to keep my charms in check. Wouldn't want to disrupt your perfect class with any distractions.”
I think I see a gleam amid the gray, but he directs his attention to the rest of the lecture hall. “You will be expected to think critically, analyze evidence, and confront uncomfortable truths. There is no room for leniency or weakness in this field. You are not here to make excuses for criminals. You are here to understand the system that holds them accountable. If you cannot accept that, then this course is not for you. Now, let's get to work.”