Ezra’s POV
I waited until campus bled quiet.
No patrols, no students, just the hum of vending machines and the sound of shoes echoing off empty pavement. He came around the back of the science hall like I knew he would.
Hoodie on, earbuds in, head down, and alone.
Alex. The one who touched her. The one who thought he could sit across from her and pretend she belonged in his world. He didn’t see me coming.
I stepped out of the dark, caught his arm mid-swing. His eyes didn’t even register fear before I brought my elbow down, hard, across his wrist. The crack was sharp, the skin split immediately.
Bone shifted beneath it, snapping sideways in two clean places. He screamed.
I didn’t give him the chance to make a second sound. My fist slammed into his face, nose-first. Cartilage was given, and blood sprayed.
His knees buckled. He tried to crawl, but I grabbed him by the hair, yanked him upright, and drove my boot into his ribs.
The first kick hit low, the second landed higher. I felt the bone cave beneath my foot.
He choked on his own spit, eyes wide, blood drooling down his chin. I straddled him, one knee pinning his chest. He squirmed under me like a trapped animal.
Weak, no fight, I covered his mouth with my hand, forcing his head back into the cold concrete. His eyes pleaded, but I wasn’t there to negotiate.
I hissed slowly, just inches from his face. “She’s not yours to touch.”
His head lolled sideways, blood pooling in the corner of his mouth. That was enough. I stood, left him there. Shaking, broken, and marked.
He’d live, that was the point.
Later, I slipped into her dorm. I didn’t knock, not needed to. I knew the code to her door, and had always known.
The lock gave way with the softest click, and the quiet inside wrapped around me like breathless anticipation. Her lamp was still on. A soft pool of light stretched across the floor, casting the room in warm shadows.
She lay in bed, facing the wall, still and silent, too still.
The hem of her shirt had crept up, exposing the faint red mark that curved across her skin, my mark. Burned into her, claimed. I moved closer, crouching at her side.
I watched the rise and fall of her chest, the careful rhythm of someone trying too hard to pretend they were asleep.
She wasn’t, and I let her have the illusion for a moment longer. Then my voice broke the stillness, low and close, brushing against the shell of her ear.
“You moaned for me,” I said softly, “and you thought I wouldn’t know?”
Her breath hitched, the barest sound. A catch in her throat. Her body, even under the blanket, betrayed her, tense in all the wrong places, trembling where it mattered.
“I can feel it,” I murmured, my hand grazing just above the sheet, hovering over the space between us. “Your body doesn’t lie. Even when your mouth does.” She didn’t move, caught in the place where fear and want blur.
“I should fuck you until you sob,” I murmured, dragging my lips just above her temple. “Until you forget what normal ever felt like.”
Her hips twitched. She pressed into me instinctively, chasing more. My hand held her still. I kept her there, trembling and wet in my grip.
“Please…” she whispered, barely audible. I smiled.
“No.” I pushed down harder for a second, grinding just enough to make her squirm, then I pulled away.
“You don’t get me,” I said, standing, “until you beg like you mean it.”
She stayed frozen in place, chest heaving, lips parted. Her thighs clenched around nothing. Her cunt pulsed beneath soaked fabric. I watched her for a moment, ruined, needy, silent.
Then I left. She didn’t move, because she was still mine. Especially now.