Whatever it is, it’s already mine.
And she doesn’t get to breathe easy again.
Not until I’m done with her.
And I’m just getting started.
Chapter Five
Tessa
The law library at seven a.m. runs on Adderall and espresso.
I claim a corner table, forming a defensive perimeter with my laptop and coffee.
Dark circles shadow my eyes, my hair is escaping the halfhearted attempt I made at taming it, and there’s still a faint patch of adhesive clinging to my arm from Rowan’s bandage.
I look exactly like a girl who didn’t sleep because she kept replaying that alley scene over and over, trying to figure out how she went from law student to leverage in under ten minutes.
Fucking Rowan and his games.
Whatever, I have a plan.
It’s not agoodplan, but a plan, nonetheless.
I’m going to figure out a way to get out of this before Rowan collects his IOUs.
I crack my knuckles and open my laptop, pulling up a search engine and typing incoercion in law school.
Articles flood in on academic pressure, burnout, mental health resources, and one disturbingly cheerful listicle titled “Managing Law School Stress!” with an exclamation point that makes me roll my eyes.
Okay… well, that’s not helpful unless Rowan is planning to overwhelm me with study group invites and positive affirmations.
I try my search again, but this time, I type in,blackmail evidence through recording.
Several things pop up: criminal law basics, extortion statutes, consent laws. And a cheerful little wiki article on single-party recording legality.
And guess what? It’s all legal.
Of course, it is. Rowan King doesn’t make amateur mistakes.
I sigh and try one last search:how to get out of a verbal agreement.
Results like contract law 101, consideration, capacity, legality, and mutual assent populate my screen.
Great. All of that would be useful if IOUs operated like contracts instead of whatever black-market currency they actually are.
I slam the laptop shut and earn a glare from the girl two tables over.
Legal research isn’t going to save me.
This isn’t a hypothetical where I can citeHadley v. Baxendaleand walk away victorious. This is Rowan King we’re talking about, for goodness’ sake.
I need real intel of what I’m up against and who else is trapped in this craziness.
I scan the library, mentally cataloging the possibilities.
In the left corner, the obvious overachievers sit, reading their supplements. They seem like a logical choice, but then I remember they are too paranoid about... well, everything. There is no way they will gossip about Rowan, especially not to me.
