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It would mean I’m weak.

I exhale through my nose. “It has to be her.”

Hunter sighs. “Why?”

“It just does. Get a car. And I want two men waiting downstairs in five minutes.”

This little incident is exactly what I needed. I’m less reluctant to make her fear me now. Now that she’s sitting alone with another man in his dorm room.

I’m going to make her regret she ever even looked at him.

Ava

“I still think we should focus on cognitive dissonance,” Connor says, leaning back in his desk chair. “That’s the example Professor Moore used.”

It’s nice to be in a normal dorm room again. Something a little messy with the strong scent of college boy.

Damian doesn’t smell like a college boy.

He smells like extreme wealth. Like clothes that have never been washed because they’re too new, and cologne that doesn’t just sit on the skin but melts into it. Even his breath carries thefaintest hint of something rich and smooth, like a sip of whiskey aged longer than I’ve been alive.

Connor feels like my old life.

“Remember how he talked about that UFO cult?” he says, breaking my reverie. “When the aliens didn’t come, they thought… I can’t remember, but it had something to do with cognitive dissonance.”

I nod. “They doubled down on their beliefs even when the prophesy about the aliens didn’t come true. But cognitive dissonance is only part of it. I think we should devote most of our presentation to the Milgram experiment. I’m starting to think it’s the secret to cults.”

Because authority is everything. When people talk about cults, they usually focus on brainwashing or some magical psychological trick. But it’s much simpler, I think. It’s about the chilling human capacity to surrender moral judgment to someone who seems powerful.

“I don’t even remember what that was,” Connor says with a sigh. “Could we just stick with cognitive dissonance? I think it’s enough to wrap this up.”

A strange emotion pangs in my chest.

Damian wouldn’t shut me down to “wrap this up.” He wouldn’t only care about this topic as a means to finishing a project. In fact, I don’t think he’d care much about the project at all.

And he’d push back at my statement about the Milgram experiment, because he’d know that I chose the cult topic because of him. So that I could stand in front of the class and talk about my experiences these past few weeks without really talking about them.

He wouldn’t be angry. No, he’d be amused. And he’d make me defend my beliefs, presenting a well-thought-out opposing opinion. It would be ludicrous of course—like most of the thingshe says. He’d talk all about power and how humans are just biology-driven automatons.

But he’d make me think, wouldn’t he? And I enjoy myself, instead of?—

The door flies open. I jolt upright, my heart leaping into my throat.

Two men barrel in—huge, broad shouldered, and wearing black clothing. One grabs my wrist. The other clamps an iron grip on my arm and yanks me back.

“What the hell?” Connorshoots up from his chair. “Who are?—”

Damian walks in, his presence filling the room. Without even glancing in my direction, he grabs Connor by the front of his shirt and lifts him off the floor. Connor’s back slams against the concrete wall, his head snapping back with a thunk.

Connor makes a strangled noise—not quite a protest, not quite fear. He must be in shock.

Damian doesn’t say a word.

He reaches into his jacket with one hand and pulls out a knife. My heart leaps into my throat.

Oh my God.

Here I was, almost missing this man. Thinking about how much I’d enjoy doing this project with him.