Page 24

24

GARETH

QuietRage

How is it going with your man?

TooPrettyForThisMess

He’s not MY man. I still dislike him sometimes, but apparently, that’s when I’m sex deprived because it takes being fucked to exhaustion for me to fold.

BWAHAHA we’ve come a long way from ‘I’d never get fucked’ to ‘I’m being fucked to exhaustion.’

Don’t push it, man.

Hey, I’m just glad you’re having fun, my dude.

You’re not? Having fun, I mean?

I never will.

I stare at Vaughn’s texts in class, smirking. So, yeah, QuietRage is V.

Speak of a small goddamn world.

I figured that out shortly after we took in Moka about a month ago—or Kayden did, minor details. The little demon only sleeps on top of me and likes me better than him anyway. He’s just the spare human according to the internet.

Anyhow, V kind of gave himself away when he mentioned that he had a girlfriend for years and thought he was happy with her and even thought of marrying her one day, but then she cheated with this guy, and ever since then, he can’t stop obsessing.

About the guy—not the girlfriend. He’s even considering transferring to another university in a ‘whole-ass other country’ that, apparently, he avoided because of this guy—Yulian, duh —even though he had to separate from his friends in the process. Something about hating the fuck out of the guy’s guts, but he’s still being drawn to him anyway.

Same.

Ever since our first convo, we’ve been texting daily and checking on each other’s clusterfuck of a gay awakening which sort of grew into a friendship. I like that we’re both going through the same shit, and I prefer the cloak of anonymity to talk freely—which I’m sure he does, too.

I also speak to him in reality often as well, mostly to warn him. From the little research I’ve done on Yulian, he’s sort of a basket case that should be locked up. But who am I to judge?

U think you’ll stay with him for long?

Idk. I’ll stab him if he tries to leave, though.

You’re falling for him, huh?

I stare at his text, my chest experiencing that shitty ache again.

Nope. I don’t do feelings.

Bro, I’m telling u this bcz I care about u and feel a weird camaraderie, but u kind of do. Normal people don’t think about stabbing their sex buddies if they think they’ll leave. Unless they’re a psychopathic narcissist, which is cool if u are. Not judging. But over these past few weeks, u said you’re having fun even when fucking isn’t involved, and your favorite thing is aftercare and when he gives you affection, right? So maybe u need to analyze the ‘no feeling’ statement further.

“Mr. Carson.” The too familiar deep, calm voice pulls me out of my reverie. “I hope whatever you're reading on your phone is more important than your education. If you’re done paying attention, feel free to leave. We wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time.”

His eyes are dark and stormy. Turbulent, even.

My fingers tighten on the phone as I glare back.

He’s been a major asshole since I obviously won the trial earlier. He gave the jury one hell of a critique for their reasoning, and me? Well, he dismantled me.

“Mr. Carson, your defense was superficial at best, and you tremendously failed to grasp the gravity of the case. It wasn’t just about your legal arguments, but about the human element and the empathy you should have shown for the victim. You came off as cold-blooded, indifferent, and menacing, particularly during cross-examination.

“You didn’t approach the victim with precision or care and wielded a sledgehammer where a scalpel was needed. Your tactics were harsh, dismissive, and reeked of arrogance, as though the nuances of this case could be handled with aggression or by seducing members of the jury with your intellect and charm. But rape cases, especially ones with this level of complexity, aren’t about flexing your power or stroking your ego. They’re about understanding the victim's trauma, their fear, and the lasting impact on their lives. You missed that entirely.

“If you can’t grasp something so fundamental, how do you expect to fight for the truth without crushing it under your own self-importance? I expected more from you, Carson. I’m not just disappointed—I’m unimpressed.”

Needless to say, I’ve been fuming since. Which is why I picked up the phone in the first place—to forget about his asshole side.

And he was an asshole. Even Zara and the rest of the prosecution team told me I wasn’t that bad. I know I wasn’t bad at all, actually, and didn’t deserve to be humiliated in front of the entire class.

I didn’t deserve to be told, “I’m not just disappointed—I’m unimpressed.”

So now, I pick up my notebook and stand.

Kayden’s eyes follow my movements, remaining as still as a frozen lake. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Leaving, as you instructed.”

“Quit the toddler tantrum and sit down.”

“I’m good. The lecture isn’t holding my interest anyway.”

“Carson. I said. Sit down.” His voice booms in the hall.

I glare at him and make a beeline to the door.

This is the first time in my life I’ve left in the middle of a class, but fuck him, really. He’s been a pain in the ass since the start of this case. No matter what I’ve said or done, he’s only criticized and disrespected me. Maybe I would’ve let that go before, but now that I truly hate his disapproval, it’s causing a deeper pain in that fucking part of my chest.

“I expect you in my office after class, Carson,” he says when I’m by the door.

I tilt my head in his direction. “No, thanks.”

His eyes hold mine, strange tension whirling beneath the gray, muting it until it’s almost dead, like a brewing storm. “Be there unless you wish to fail criminal law.”

Me? Failing a fucking subject?

He wants to die. He clearly does.

The whole class goes into shock, because why the hell would the top student fail a core fucking subject?

My lips pull up and I clamp them back down, then storm out.

As I stalk to the library, I tell myself he can’t actually fail me, not with my grades, and I can ask for a different grader if he does. I’ll sabotage his fucking career with the dean if he even comes near my GPA. I’m the star student here, and the dean is Grandad’s friend, who’d be livid if he heard about this episode.

And yet I can’t remain calm.

I realize I’m biting the skin under my nails and curse beneath my breath as I drop my hand and hold my head in my palm, staring at the blurry lines of the random constitutional law book I picked up.

Rage is throwing a mist over my eyes, and even still, I can recognize the underlying feeling beneath. Pain?

Fuck, am I hurt by his treatment?

Hurt because he said he’s disappointed in me?

Hurt because he threatened my spotless GPA just to make me feel small?

Hurt because I stayed up all night perfecting my closing statement just for him to stomp all over it.

My mind is full of stabby impulses, but, really, I noticed I only have those when he treats me like shit.

Or when I’m jealous.

Over the past month, ever since the first time he hugged me to sleep and called me by my first name, I thought things had changed.

We don’t just get together so he can fuck my brains out anymore. He’s been joining me at the archery range. I have my own personal range at the mansion but usually stick to the public one to avoid friends barging in uninvited. Lately, though, I’ve been spending more time at the club, and it’s quickly become my favorite spot.

Mostly because I’ve been teaching Kayden. Turns out, he’s pretty interested—and annoyingly good at it. A fast learner, actually.

The club is discreet enough that no one bats an eye at our existence. They’d just assume we’re there by coincidence.

We’ve also started playing chess, and honestly, it’s my favorite thing ever. We’re both stubborn as hell, and he never lets me win. Not once. Which I’m determined to change.

I love how he challenges me, keeps me sharp, and quiets the demons in the void.

Of course, Moka keeps knocking over our pieces during matches. Kayden scolds her, and I immediately scoop her up and hide her away. What? She’s a sweet, innocent baby. Okay, fine, maybe she did ruin the sofa, and sure, I spoil her a little—ordering her all kinds of stuff—but I digress.

Kayden even lets me talk to his moms when he FaceTimes them. They’re not stupid; they know what’s going on. Rachel said, “You’re young and should think carefully before making any decisions, hon.” Which was confusing, but whatever.

All in all, we’ve been having fun.

We’ve been watching hockey together. I’ve never been a hockey fan, but seeing it through his eyes, knowing he used to play—the violence, the sheer chaos—I’m starting to like it. Kayden noticed, of course, and said he’ll take me to a game someday.

I don’t know when that day will be, but I’m getting too accustomed—and too addicted—to how much he notices everything about me.

And I mean everything .

Whether it’s my bad moods, the stress of thinking that Dad doesn’t care about me now that he has Kill, or when I need to purge.

In those moments, he ties me up and fucks me until I’m too wrung out to think.

I believe the reason I struggled so much in the beginning was because I thought I always needed to be in control, so actually submitting to someone else made me panic. I don’t like feeling vulnerable, but with him? I love it.

I crave how he dominates me, that I can give up control to him and he’ll set my world ablaze. He stops my brain from overthinking and makes me feel powerful in my submission.

In a way, I just like…letting go when I’m with him. I don’t have to worry about anything, because he’ll make everything right.

I’m accepting my sexuality better now and even get frustrated when we don’t have sex for…two days.

That’s my limit, don’t judge.

I think my dick is having its revenge for all the lackluster fucks I put him through.

Kayden fixes that by edging me until I beg. He loves keeping me on the brink, and I love when he forces me on my hands and knees, leaving me no way out.

It’s our dynamic. Not something average people would call healthy, but it works for us.

At least, in the bedroom. Or when it’s just the two of us.

On campus, though? He’s indifferent. I get that it’s a necessity, but he doesn’t have to be such an asshole about it. Like earlier.

Or like every single time we’ve worked on the trial case.

“Hey, handsome,” a low voice whispers in my ear.

I glance up to find Morgan scooting her chair closer, her overwhelming floral perfume practically punching me in the gut.

Class isn’t even over yet—I check my watch to confirm. I don’t want to see him , but I also don’t want to give the bastard a reason to act on his latest threat.

“You skipped?” I ask her.

“Overslept. Whoopsie.” She giggles softly. “Figured it was better to stay out than risk Professor Lockwood scolding me. You know how big he is on punctuality.”

“More like punctual pain in the ass,” I mutter under my breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What are you doing here anyway?” she asks, sliding her hand into mine and leaning closer to whisper, “Not that I’m complaining. I really missed you and your big dick.”

“Don’t.” I pull my hand away from hers.

I could swear her touch used to do something to me once—don’t ask me what, but it was there. Now? Every touch disgusts me.

With one glaring exception.

“But why?” She pouts, her big purple lips looking cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Not interested, Morgan.”

“What if I bring a friend?”

I raise a brow. “Like who?”

“Who do you want?”

“Hmm. How about Zara?”

“Not her. She swings the other way.”

“Oh? Who told you that?”

“I’m not as gullible as I look. She’s dropped plenty of hints and even implied it once.”

“So you’re also aware she has a crush on you? And you still led her on?”

Her eyes widen, snapping to mine. “How do you— Doesn’t matter. I didn’t lead her on.”

I grab her arm, tightening my grip just enough to make her freeze.

“But you did. Because you’re a goddamn parasite. Zara is ten times smarter than you and way out of your league, really, but you like how she puts you on a pedestal. She covers for you, helps with your homework, and you repay her by throwing out mixed signals and innocent little kisses, keeping her hooked on you.” My voice drops low as I shake her. “Either make it clear you’re using her so she can move the fuck on, or I will. And trust me, Morgan, it won’t be pretty if I do it.”

I release her, ignoring the tears welling in her eyes, and stand up.

Fuck this.

Why am I so worked up on Zara’s behalf? I have no clue.

Maybe because I hate the manipulations and the fucking lies.

Figures.