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I turn back to the Dean, ignore how Gabe’s smirking at me like he knows I won’t get out of this, and hardly glance at all three of them as I precede them into the Dean’s office. There are two chairs in front of the large wooden desk and I perch on the edge of one of them, folding my hands in my lap and slipping on my professional face I use when I’m in meetings with potential sponsors for one of my YouTube channels.
Gabe takes the other chair as the Dean rounds his desk. Cohen, I notice, takes up the space between me and Gabe, his body a barrier that I appreciate, though I’m not sure exactly what it’ll do if Gabe decides he wants to get back at me using a spell.
The dean settles in his chair, taps on his computer, no doubt bringing the video evidence up so he can prove that it was in fact me.
“Do you have anything you’d like to say before we show you what we’ve found?” He’s giving me a chance to confess, but fuck that. I haven’t done anything wrong. I know it wasn’t me that broke into Gabe’s dorm room.
I shake my head. He sighs, turns his screen toward me and hits play. Sure enough, a girl who looks like me slips down the hall, looking over her shoulder like she’s afraid of getting caught. She’s wearing all black and a hoodie, but seems to make a point of looking right at the camera, letting it get a full shot ofmyface, like she wants the camera to catch her.
It’s fucking ridiculous. Anyone with even moderately decent eyesight can see the cameras hanging in the halls. We all know exactly where they are, and if this person was worried about being caught, they would have kept their face turned away from the camera.
But they don’t.
I snort as the girl on the screen goes to Gabe’s door, pulls out what looks like a debit machine with a slim plastic card attached to a wire hanging off of it. She slips the card into the lock, types on the pin pad and a moment later, the door opens.
That is some high-tech shit right there, and something I definitely do not have access to.
Cohen leans forward as the door closes behind her and fast forwards until twenty minutes have passed and she emerges again, this time with literal red on her hands. It’s such an obvious setup that I’m a little offended.
As the video stops, I sit back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. “That wasn’t me.”
Dean Hardstark scoffs. “It is clearly you. Denying it will do you no good.”
I shake my head. “I think if you look again, you’ll find that it’s someone that looks a lot like me, but that is definitely not me.”
Gabe barks out a harsh laugh. “You’re such a little liar, Rosalind.”
I don’t turn to look at him, don’t acknowledge him at all. He’s just a man shaped blur, nothing but air, a fart that makes my nose wrinkle. He shifts forward to glare at me around Cohen’s body, not liking my ignoring him.
“You went around telling everyone that I attacked you in the woods, even though we know what really happened. You are a tease, babe. We both know you wanted it as bad as I did. And when I broke up with you after, you got all pissed and started spreading rumors. Just admit it.”
I keep my gaze focused on Hardstark, but my brain is far away, back on the forest floor as he tore at my clothes, trying to get me undressed enough to violate me. Panic claws at my chest, just like it had back then, and my hands shake in my lap as memories flow through my mind. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Miss Sweeney?” Cohen says, turning more toward me, concern coloring his tone as one of his hands comes to my shoulder. “Rosalind, are you alright?”
I shake my head, and my shaking hand moves to my chest, rubbing over my scar. But it doesn’t help to ease my breathing or my trembling. Cohen crouches in front of me, hands curling around mine, thumbs stroking back and forth. “Are you having a panic attack, Ro? What do you need?”
Help.
I need help.
Please, help me.
The door flies open with enough force that it hits the wall and leaves a chip in the paint and Gideon slams into the room, followed quickly by Fielder, Hardin, and Ezra. Fielder’s green eyes take in the scene before him, the way I’m curled over, hands clutching at my chest like that’s going to help.
He jerks his chin at me and Ezra pushes a protesting Cohen away to crouch in front of me while Gideon moves to stand behind my chair, one huge hand stroking up and down my spine. Ezra cups my face in his hands, making me look at him, thumbs stroking over my cheekbones. “Hey, baby, I need you to take a breath for me, okay?”
I’m vaguely aware of raised voices, of Hardin standing between me and Gabe and Cohen, and Fielder behind the Dean’s desk.
Ezra shakes his head at me. “Don’t worry about them, Ro. Take a breath.”
Air swirls around me, cooling my heated cheeks and nudging against my nostrils. Fielder must be manipulating it to make it easier for me to breathe. Tears squeeze out of my eyes, and Ezra sweeps them away, leaning forward to press his forehead to mine. “Come on, baby. Just one breath. In and out. That’s all I need.”
With him so close filling up my vision, I can focus on just him, on the words he’s saying and the burning in my lungs that tells me he’s right. I need to breathe. But it’s not until Gideon bends over the back of the chair, pressing his back as securely as he can to mine, and breathing against my neck that I finally, finally take in some air. It rushes into my lungs eagerly, like Fielder is egging it on. The second breath is easier. The third even easier.
Gideon presses a kiss against the skin of my neck, lips lingering over my pulse as my heart rate slows.
Sweet baby kittens, having them close to me helps so damn much.
