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Surprisingly, I find the classroom right away, and thankfully, I arrive a little early. I take a seat furthest in the back, tucked into the corner of the room. Maybe no one will notice me.
I actually make it through most of the class without anyone bothering me. Professor Brush goes over the Cold War, espionage, and other tactical warfare. It isn’t until he touches the subject of treason that I become the center of attention.
“You probably know that officially Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were the only two people executed for treason, after being found guilty of conspiracy to commit espionage. Of course, many more people were put to death, but your high school history books don’t have that information. Lucky for you, ours do. Open your books and take a look at page sixty-nine.”
I unlock my computer and flip the e-book to the page in question. My stomach flips when I see the image. It’s a naked woman, strung up by her arms in the center of the room. Her lifeless body bloodied and beaten.
“The Rosenberg execution by electric chair might have been called inhumane, but their deaths had nothing on some of the lesser-known traitors. As you can see from the image, Clara Morris suffered for days before she died a slow and painful death.”
“You mean Mather?” someone whispers, and a wave of chuckles moves through the class. The professor continues as though nothing happened at all.
“As I was saying, Clara was raped and tortured for an entire week until she finally died. Videos of her punishment were distributed across the dark web to let everyone know what happens to those who betray their own.”
“Maybe we should do this to Aspen,” another guy says, not even bothering to whisper it. I keep my eyes trained on the screen in front of me and ignore more laughter erupting in the classroom.
“Are you even listening, Mather?” A balled-up piece of paper hits me in the side of the head, making me look up.
“Was that really necessary?” I glare at the guy who clearly hates my guts.
“No talking in class, Aspen,” Professor Brush warns.
I know talking back will only make things worse, but my stupid mouth moves on its own. “Are you serious? Everyone else is talking. He threw something at me.” I point at the guy and immediately hear the word snitch mumbled by a few people.
The professor’s eyes turn murderous, and the tone of his voice is menacing. “Marcel was just trying to get your attention since you are clearly distracted,” he defends the guy. “Everyone else is contributing to the class material. You are not.”
“I know a way she could contribute…”
The laughter feels like nails on a chalkboard to me. It doesn’t only hurt my ears, it hurts my soul, and I know I can’t spend another minute in this room without losing my shit.
Without looking up, I gather everything in front of me, shove it in my bag, and storm out of the class. The door falls shut behind me, and I break out into a run as soon as my feet hit the marble floor. Fuck this class. Fuck all of them.
I push my legs to run faster, feeling as if I’m not getting away from these people quick enough. I round the corner to the elevators and run full force into someone. Bouncing back, I land on my ass with a hard thud. Pain shoots up my back, making me groan in pain. In the process, my bag slips from my hand and goes flying across the corridor.
“What the fuck are you doing?” an angry voice booms from above me. My head snaps up, and I find Quinton and Ren staring down at me.
Of—fucking—course.
9
QUINTON
My chest tingles where her small body crashed into mine. Using my palm, I rub the spot and glare down at Aspen, who is sitting on her ass in front of us.
“Do you always run around corners without looking?” I question.
She doesn’t answer with words, simply shakes her head and starts gathering the contents of her bag. She is on her knees crawling over the floor, and my eyes zero in on her apple-shaped ass. My cock twitches against my zipper, and I hate how her body makes me feel. I hate not being in control of my lust.
She is just about to pick up one of her books when Ren kicks it away from her grasp and in front of my feet.
“Very mature,” she murmurs and glares up at him.
“Let’s go, Ren,” I growl and purposely step on her book. Some pages tear beneath the sole of my shoe, and a shocked gasp falls from Aspen’s lips. Her eyes go wide, and she scurries over to my feet, grabbing the book as if it’s some precious artifact. She is kneeling inches in front of my feet but not paying me the slightest attention. All she’s worried about is her stupid little book, and I fucking hate it.
