Page 71 of Broken by my Bully (Lessons in Cruelty Dark Academia #1)

Bastian

My hand is over my mouth. To anyone in the crowd looking in my direction, I’m as appalled as the rest of them at Haven’s fiery speech.

Truly, I’m hiding a smile.

Haven has never been just another grant student. Ever since her application landed on my desk, I’ve been utterly fascinated with her.

A ditch-poor Riversider with the face of an angel. Capable of writing an outstanding essay on this town’s glaring socioeconomic divide, but utterly incapable of pulling herself out of the gutter.

No obvious drug habit.

Hadn’t resorted to hooking yet.

She’d thrown everything into the opportunity for a fresh start…and everything in her application reeked with that desperation.

I still remember the day we awarded her the grant.

Her wide blue eyes, the blush when she realized she would have to go up to the podium to accept her shiny new prize.

I was supposed to be the one awarding the grant, but I deferred to Mr. Callahan, AHC’s biggest donor.

If it weren’t for our money, the Social Change grant wouldn’t even exist.

Haven never even knew I was there .

For months I’ve been watching. Waiting. Orchestrating. Moving pieces on a board she doesn’t even know exists.

My money. My grant. My girl.

But she didn’t need to know that yet. She still doesn’t know I paid for her entire education just to get her in my classroom. There’s still so much she doesn’t know about me.

None of these pathetic fucks do.

It’s so easy to keep someone in the dark when you’re the one controlling the lights.

I’m particularly proud of the fact that no one knows Haven’s real address. Not when she was living above the grocer, nor when I assumed she was couch surfing or sleeping in her father’s car. License and registration state it still belongs to him. No insurance, not that it’s any surprise.

AHC has been sending all Haven’s correspondence to some crack den in Riverside. No one will bother to return it. They’ve probably burned everything for heat already.

It’s so easy to keep someone in the dark when you’re the one controlling the lights.

Pests and nocturnal creatures forced to live in the dark learned to thrive in it. I’m sure Haven’s been living in squalor her entire life, but who knows how deep the shadows inside those moldy walls were?

Will she thrive in this darkness…or succumb to it?

I keep expecting her to take the easy way out. But she must really want to turn her life around, because she’s exceeded all my expectations.

Even now, tonight, with little to no preparation, she’s standing on that stage like she belongs there, and she’ll go toe-to-toe with anyone who has a different opinion.

And earlier today when I was with her? I pushed, and she shoved right back. Maybe she is unbreakable. Maybe she will thrive, despite the darkness. Makes sense. She’s just like me.

Born in darkness. Shaped by it.

That’s why I chose her .

Not to save her, but to see if she’d become what I did.

Dean Winslow takes the podium as soon as Haven leaves, the stately woman’s voice steady despite the nervous way her eyes flicker around the crowd.

She’s already in damage-control mode, and no wonder.

Many people—many donors —won’t like the way Haven just addressed them, especially just as nameless faces in the crowd.

No one enjoys being just another ‘them’.

Melissa grabs Haven’s arms, the two of them disappearing into the dark off-stage. I’m tempted to find them, to get Haven alone, but there are a lot of watchful eyes here tonight, and Haven’s put a target on her back.

I won’t be collateral damage.

The night is young, and even after that performance, I doubt Haven will leave soon.

I take a sip of my champagne, glancing over my shoulder for a colleague I can talk to while I bide my time. Most I dismiss. I’d have more fun telling people on Reddit AITA threads that yes, YTA.

Someone crashes into my shoulder, sending champagne sloshing over my tuxedo sleeve.

A young voice mutters, “Jesus, fuck.”

I turn to Kai, eyebrows raised. “Nice to see you, too.”

He glances down at my soaked sleeve and then tries to go around me. I sidestep, blocking his way. I’m not used to people ignoring me.

“You’re in an awful hurry, Mr. Jordan.”

“Yeah, uh, sorry, I got to do some shit.” He tries to sidle off, but I catch his arm. His muscles tense under my grip.

“I’m talking to you.”

Kai wrenches himself free with such a frown that I huff at him through my nose. He quickly shakes off his urgency, face relaxing into something more mellow, but green eyes still alert, earnest…if a little bloodshot.

“Sorry, Professor. It’s just, I’ve got to take the donations out back…?” He hikes a thumb over his shoulder, taking a slow step back. “We can catch up later. Right? ”

I study him for a moment, and then set my glass down on a server’s tray as they walk past. “Let me help.”

Panic flashes over my student’s face. He probably thinks he’s going to get into trouble for being stoned. Would it make him feel better knowing I have a gram of coke in my pocket?

Ezra’s brother has only been my TA for a few months, but I’ve taken a liking to him.

He’s smart—when he’s focused. Fortunately for him, he finds my class interesting enough that getting him to focus isn’t the chore it used to be with my previous assistants.

But there’s something about him I just can’t pinpoint.

He disappears into his own thoughts sometimes. Zoning out to where I can stare openly at him and he doesn’t seem to notice.

It could be ADHD. He could even be on the spectrum. But I’m convinced it’s trauma. Takes one to know one, after all.

The way he flinches at loud noises. How uncomfortable he gets when I’m terse with him. He’s constantly gauging my mood, like a weather vane. I’m guessing it saved his skin a few times in the past, getting out before the tornado hit.

Just like Haven. Just like me, once upon a time. Before I learned to be the one causing the flinching.

I grasp the back of his neck, his muscles tensing when I squeeze. “Lead the way.”

He shivers just slightly, but I feel it. The same way Haven shivers when I touch her. Maybe they’re more alike than I thought. Maybe that’s why they’re drawn to each other, just like she’s drawn to me.

Maybe…maybe I need them both .

“It’s fine. I got this.” He walks, sending stolen glances my way.

I keep hold of his neck, enjoying the way he resists. “Nonsense. I haven’t thanked you for taking my class the other day. Although…a few of my students didn’t like your approach.”

Kai’s muscles relax a little, and I let my hand slide off his back. “Yeah, uh, I got a little carried away.” He laughs, clapping his hands. “Fuck, you should have seen the panic on their faces when I read those envelopes. You missed out big time.”

“Don’t worry. I have more than enough to keep me entertained.”

“Oh, right.” His brows tense into a small frown, gone a second later. “That’s a lot of shit for you to grade.”

“For us.” I clap him on the back. “Think I’m combing through all those videos myself?”

He’s quiet for a moment, green eyes unfocused before sharpening on me as we round the corner. The country club’s entrance is up ahead, doors closed now that all the guests have arrived.

“Should I even be looking at that stuff, Sir? I mean…it’s kinda private.”

“That’s kinda the whole point.”

Kai stiffens like he thinks I’m mocking him.

Maybe I am.

I suppose I shouldn’t take it out on him. Haven put me in a foul mood with her tantrum earlier today, and I’m still holding onto some of that frustration.

“I have a question for you,” I say, tucking my hands behind my back as we come up to the donation boxes. “Is it cruel to force someone to do something against their will, even if it’s in their best interest?”

Like making Haven quit her job. Like arranging her housing. Like everything I’ve done to manipulate her into wanting me. Needing me.

Kai looks at the boxes, and then back at me, shrugging off his tux jacket as he glances away to consider my question.

“Does it hurt them?”

“You’re talking about physical pain?” I follow suit, slipping off my tux jacket and laying it over the donation box filled with blankets.

“Yeah. Like, shoving someone off the tracks before the train hits them. It’ll hurt, but a hell of a lot less than the train fucking hitting them.”

I tilt my head. “Sure. There’s some pain involved. But it will save their life. ”

Kai lays his on top of mine and rolls up his sleeves, moving on automatic as his eyes stare off at nothing. “No. That’s not cruel.”

I suppress a smile as we walk over to the box filled with pet food and toys. “Up to what point is that a fair trade-off?”

He laughs, grabbing the handle on the other side of the box, but cuts off when he sees my expression. “Anything short of torture.”

“Torture is…subjective.”

We lift the box, and my gaze fixes on a wound on Kai’s inner arm, just below his elbow.

“Jesus,” he mutters. “This thing’s fucking heavy.”

“Hm. People like giving. Especially to the needy.” We push open the front door and manhandle the box outside.

“Their accountants love it even more.”

When I look over at him, he cocks his chin to the side. “Round the back.”

I follow him when he turns, and we haul the box around the side of the country club. The estate is larger than the campus grounds, mostly to accommodate the golf course enclosed within. Nestled near the base of one of Agony Hollow’s hills, there’s a few acres of thin woodland before the incline.

Lights twinkle far in the distance between those trees, only visible when the steadily cooling air whips through the forest like it’s trying to stir up a frenzy.

The threat of rain hangs heavy in air laced with hints of tin and pine needles and freshly turned soil.

But there’s no guarantee the heavens will open tonight.

I overheard a student the other day claiming that the afterparty was an actual Native American rain dance, meant to summon the seasonal downpour we get every year just before Halloween.

Such a ridiculous notion.

Yet so whimsically inventive, I almost wish it were true.

We set the box down with a thump near a closed door I assume is a staff entrance. “Someone’s supposed to come and collect them,” Kai says, waving at the bin as he starts back for the entrance .

I dust off my hands as I follow. “Didn’t you guys learn your lesson last time?” I ask, keeping my voice light.

Kai frowns at me over his shoulder, and then gives me a wide-eyed look. Those same green eyes flicker toward the woods before he can catch himself and stare at me.

“What’s that?”

I laugh. “Mr. Jordan, your little afterparty in the woods is the worst-kept secret in Agony Hollow.”

He walks past me, head bowed. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Relax. If we had wanted it stopped, we would have.”

Kai frowns at me over his shoulder, giving me a quick scan like he doesn’t like the fact that I’m walking behind him. “Still don’t know what?—“

“Christ, fine,” I snap. “Just make sure no one ODs this time.”

I overtake him, snatching up my jacket and slipping it on. He watches, and then grabs the second box of donations, his muscled arms straining but seeming to handle the weight just fine.

Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to be in my twenties again. My eyes shift to the marks on his arms before I can force myself to look away.

He takes two steps and then sets the donations down. Looks over his shoulder. “You wanna come?”

My eyes flick to his. The longer I stare, the more agitated he gets, eyes darting everywhere.

“Are you being a sycophant, or do you really want me there?”

There’s a touch of bemusement on his mouth when he looks at me again. “I think you’d like it.” He shrugs, points to the ceiling. “But we won’t be playing Chopin or any of that bullshit tonight.”

I cock my eyebrow at him. “Oh no? What about Tchaikovsky?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Nah. The shit you’re going to hear will change your fucking brain chemistry.”

As he turns away to pick up the donation box, I step forward and snatch his wrist. There’s a moment where he resists, where we’re in a stalemate as he refuses to let me pull on him, where I refuse to let go .

And then he looks at me, and his muscles relax.

I twist his arm, turning it to the light, studying the marks embedded so deep in his skin. He starts when I raise my other hand, but doesn’t stop me running my thumb over the bite marks.

“Who did this?”

They’re fresh. Deep. Passionate.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen injuries on him. I assume he’s on the hockey or football team.

But this?

Whoever bit him wanted to leave their mark on his smooth, tanned flesh. Claiming him? Or warning him?

An image of Haven’s bruised throat flashes into my mind, but I force it away.

Another replaces it instantly, nails dragging through skin.

He knows I know. I can see it in his eyes. But when have I ever seen a bruise and not pressed it?

“Was it Haven Lee?”

Poor baby. He tries so hard not to let me in. But his face gives him away instantly. The flash of surprise, then the anger.

He stares at me with wide eyes, jaw ticking, nostrils flaring.

She marked him as I marked her. We’re both claiming the same territory.

Maybe that’s not a problem.

Maybe that’s the solution.

“She put up quite a fight,” I say in a thick voice. “Did she win?”

Kai seems complacent with silence, but I’m not. I press down on that wound so hard that he jerks his arm out of my grip.

“No,” he grates out, his arm curling against his chest. “ I did.”

I smile at him. “That’s what she wants you to think.”

“Fuck off,” he snaps, then drops his gaze like he’s fighting the urge to apologize.

“I can help with that, you know.” I reach for him, but he backs up so quickly he almost stumbles.

“The fuck you on about? ”

“Getting inside her head.”

He scoffs. “What, already sick of getting in her pants?”

I make sure nothing on my face changes. “Can help you with that too.”

The flare of rage on his face is so fucking satisfying, my dick twitches.

“I don’t need your fucking help,” he says. “Not with her. Not with anything.”

He stomps away, sending a glare over his shoulder as he flicks his hair out of his face.

Christ.

The boy’s fucking smitten.

With Haven. With the idea of Haven. Maybe even with me, though he’d rather die than admit it. The way he backed up when I reached for him? Not just anger. Fear.

The kind that comes from wanting something you shouldn’t.

I was going to do a line, but I don’t need it anymore. Nothing beats the rush of pushing someone closer and closer to the edge.

Except for that last fatal shove, of course.