Page 81 of Wicked Nasty

Anger boils inside of me and I clench my fists. "She can try all she wants, but she won't fucking win. I'll make sure of it."

Becca lets out a small laugh at my protective nature. "Danny..."

But I cut her off with a kiss. "I'm serious. Now tell me, is that all?"

Her expression darkens, and she shakes her head.

The words hang heavy in the air, suffocating and oppressive. Becca stares at the ground, her shoulders slumped with defeat. "Not quite..." she begins, her voice shaky and unsure. "I uh... I was just screamed at for not applying to colleges," she confesses, her voice cracking with emotion. "For, and I quote, doing nothing with my life." She takes a deep breath, struggling to regain composure.

"He screamed at you?" I ask disbelievingly, unable to hide my shock.

Becca lets out a tired sigh. "Maybe scream isn't the right word... but it was loud enough that the other counselor came in to end the session."

Without hesitation, I storm out of the room and into the guidance counselor's office. My fists are clenched tightly at my sides, fury coursing through me. I fling open his door, Becca close on my heels with determination etched on her face. The counselor jumps at our sudden intrusion, his eyes widening at the sight of us standing there, united against him.

The guy's face becomes a fiery crimson, his eyes narrow with seething fury. “Can I help you Rorke?”

“Yeah, you fucking can.”

Becca yanks on my arm, pleading. “Danny... please. It's fine. Let it go.”

But the counselor chimes in with a bitter laugh. “Listen to your new plaything. Back off.”

My blood boils at the condescending tone, and I snap. My fists clench as I struggle to keep my cool, but it's no use. The rage inside me explodes like a volcano, consuming every rational thought I had left.

I lunge forward, grabbing the counselor by his shirt collar and slamming him against the wall. "You think you can talk to her like that?" I snarl, my face inches from his. "You think you can belittle her dreams and get away with it?"

He sneers. “Maybe she should have gotten her head out of her ass and applied to colleges. It's too late now. She has the whole world in front of her, yet she chose to play games with your ass this year.”

I can feel my blood pressure skyrocketing, my vision blurring with rage. I'm seconds away from punching this smug bastard in his face when I feel Becca's hand on my arm, gently but firmly pulling me back.

"Danny, stop," she says, her voice quiet but resolute. "He's not worth it."

I release my grip on the counselor's shirt, shoving him back against the wall as I step away. He straightens his collar, a mixture of fear and contempt in his eyes.

"You're lucky she's here," I growl. "Because otherwise..."

"Otherwise what?" he sneers, regaining some of his bravado. "You'd assault a school official? Go ahead, ruin your own future. See if I care."

And that’s when I lose it.

I lunge forward again, my fist connecting with the counselor's jaw before I can even process what I'm doing. He stumbles backward, shock and pain flashing across his face.

"Danny!" Becca screams, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me away. But I'm too far gone, rage clouding my judgment.

The counselor recovers quickly, his own anger flaring as he charges at me. We grapple, knocking over a chair and sending papers flying off the desk. I vaguely register Becca yelling for help in the hallway as I struggle with the older man.

Suddenly, firm hands are yanking us apart. The school security guard has arrived, along with the Dean. I'm breathing heavily, my shirt torn and hair disheveled. The counselor doesn't look much better, a bruise already forming on his jaw.

"What the hell is going on here?" the Dean demands, his voice booming through the small office.

I open my mouth to explain, but the counselor beats me to it. "This student assaulted me!" he shouts, pointing an accusing finger at me. "I want him arrested!"

The security guard tightens his grip on my arm, but I barely notice. My eyes are locked on Becca, who's standing in the doorway looking pale and terrified.

"That's not what happened," she says, her voice shaky but determined. "Mr. Roberts was verbally abusing me during our session. Danny was just trying to defend me."

The principal's eyes narrow as he looks between us. "Is this true, Mr. Roberts?"

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