Page 25 of Want It All

But the others didn’t have the benefit of an alpha’s public protection.

I was so angry my vision blurred, wisps of white creeping into the edges of my perception as a rut threatened to break through my suppressants.

I inhaled and exhaled slowly, forcing myself to be calm.

When I could blink away the white, I clicked back into Rose’s essay and re-read Heathcote’s parting shot.

You should seriously consider whether you deserve your place here.

I should have been celebrating. That mark would knock Rose out of consideration for any award; the threat to Sebastian would be gone.

This was what I’d wanted .

Wasn’t it?

I wanted Sebastian to get what he wanted. I wanted him to get the prize he coveted. But I’d imagined him getting it through well-deserved marks and my own influence, not because a bigoted professor committed academic misconduct.

This could lead to the result I’d wanted, but it wasn’t right .

I caught Byron’s eye and stood. ‘There’s something I need to do.’

He glanced at Sebastian and nodded. He might have hated me, but he knew what I was asking. He’d stay close to Sebastian until I got back.

I kissed the top of my omega’s head. ‘I just remembered something. Stay with Rose, handsome,’ I murmured, too softly for her to hear. ‘Get her a hot drink, yeah? Something sweet.’

Sebastian frowned at me, but nodded. I pressed one last kiss to his hair and strode from the dining hall, my hands curled into fists at my side.

Banksia’s administration office was on the ground floor in the south wing, next to a cavernous room that held two grand pianos. The office was much smaller, with a window at the front for students.

The woman working closest to the window looked to be in her mid-thirties, blonde-haired and blue-eyed with curls even wilder than my own escaping her bun.

She was wearing so much scent canceller that my nose prickled, and she had a quiet command that screamed alpha .

When she caught my eye, she gave me a warm smile. ‘Hi there. What can we do for you?’

‘I need some advice.’

‘Of course.’

I lowered my voice. ‘Anonymous marking is SECU policy, right? And it’s not any different at Banksia? I need to know what to do if I suspect a teacher isn’t doing it.’

Her smile dropped. She studied my face, her expression serious. ‘Do you have evidence to support your suspicion?’

‘I believe so.’

She glanced back at her office, then leaned forward. ‘You’re a first year, yes? The Origins course?’ I nodded, and her expression turned hard. ‘I’ll get you the form.’

She turned away to rifle through a drawer, then came back with a handful of paper.

‘This is the complaint form. If you search the website, you’ll find an online version, too.

It’s entirely anonymous. Fill it out, give as much support to your suspicions as you can, and either drop it into the box over there –’ she gestured to an ancient-looking wooden box bolted to the wall behind me ‘– or submit via the online portal. It would help,’ she said slowly, ‘if there was more than one complaint. When we have a submission, we go back through the records to check whether anything similar has occurred in the past. Repeated complaints can see swift … action.’

‘Thank you,’ I said quietly. ‘I can think of a few other people who might have something to say.’

She lowered her voice again. ‘There’s something else you can do. Something that will guarantee a response.’

Her lips were slightly twisted, and I wondered if betas and omegas were the only ones Heathcote targeted. Universities were famous for their bizarre hierarchies, and support staff were usually at the bottom of the power pile. ‘What’s that?’ I asked.

‘If you were happy putting your name to it, you could email the Dean and copy in the Banksia board. There’d be no way they could ignore it, then.’

‘Do you think they would? Ignore it? The complaint form, I mean.’

She pursed her lips. ‘The old Dean did.’

Byron didn’t strike me as the kind of person raised by a woman who would ignore an injustice, but I might have misread him. ‘I’ll do that. Thanks.’

‘Just … be careful,’ the woman said seriously.

‘The world of academia is small, and any one of our teaching staff has the power to make things … difficult … in the real world. If you put your name to the complaint, there could be … repercussions.’ She paused.

‘Did you want to specialise in anthropology or archaeology? The lecturer in question is quite well-known.’

I looked down at the complaint form. I understood what she was telling me: I might have a win here, cocooned by process and bureaucracy, but outside Banksia, Heathcote would have the power to affect my future career – or perhaps even end it before it ever began.

I’d loved my undergraduate archaeology degree.

Being on digs were some of the happiest moments of my entire life, and Sebastian wasn’t the only one who wanted to do further research.

If I did this, Heathcote could seriously complicate the plans I’d had for my own higher-degree study and the profession I’d coveted for years.

I thought about Rose’s forced smile. You should seriously consider whether you deserve your place here .

Fuck. That.

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’ll be fine. This is worth the risk.’

The woman nodded. ‘Then send the email as soon as you can. You could copy in the administration office email address, too. For our records.’

I nodded, understanding her subtext. An email to the Dean and the board might go missing or be overlooked. An email to the administrative office, where multiple people had access to it, could forward it, and save its content? That would be harder to overlook .

This woman was on my side, and it was a nice feeling.

‘I’ll send it today,’ I said. ‘Thank you. Truly.’

She nodded. ‘Universities are odd places,’ she mused. ‘They’re like their own little worlds, with their own rules. Sometimes, people forget there’s a whole universe outside them, and the power goes to their heads.’ She smiled at me again. ‘It isn’t real life here. It’s good to remember that.’

I thought about her words as I headed for the First Year Library to draft my email.

Once it had left my outbox, I started my next project – but it wasn’t study.

I clicked into an article about Heathcote winning his high school’s History medal.

Within minutes, I had his academic records, his family details, his early medical records – and I was deep into an archived exchange on social media where one party seemed to be heavily implying that Heathcote had been implicated in contract cheating.

I smiled.

If there was a chance Heathcote could threaten my future, then I’d be ready for it.