Page 85 of Dean's Delinquent

It doesn’t make any sense. All I want to do is roll about on the sheets and mess them back up, to show that I was there. It happened. He fucked me that night. Shaking my head, I force those thoughts out and ease over to the door.

There, off to the side, are a few masks. Some look masculine while the others are decidedly feminine. If I want to make it out of here with no one being the wiser, I might need to mask up. This way, even if there are cameras, they won’t know it’s me. Not with one hundred percent accurately, at least.

Plausible deniability. The bread and butter of any good reporter.

Slipping the mask over my face, I shift my bag over my shoulder. Soft noises flit in and out as I pass by certain rooms, piquing my curiosity. I know what the dean did to me, but that doesn’t mean I know what others in The Society do. As quietly as I can, I ease into one of the rooms where the door stands ajar.

As I enter, however, I stop short. Perhaps I heard wrong, and it’s another room. This one doesn’t seem to be occupied.

However, as I go to leave, a voice calls out to me. “About time you showed up. I was beginning to think I was going to have to punish you.” The voice is familiar, but I can’t completely place it.

Not worth it. As curious as I am, I know my own limits. I’m not supposed to be here in the first place. To engage another member would be such an insult to an already grievous injury. There’s no way in hell I would be able to explain this to my dean.

I go to leave, but a strong hand encircles my wrist, pulling me back. For a moment, my heart stutters in my chest, making everything feel wobbly and loose. My vision goes in and out as I yank and tug. But no matter what I do, he doesn’t let go.

“That’s right, baby. Fight me. You know I love a good struggle.”

Images of Doctor Andrew tying me up in that cold, calculated, methodical way of his flashes through my mind. Coach Luke as he ranted and raved plays through my head. Fear. Pure, unadulterated fear. This is what Dean Anderson was trying to tell me. This is what he wanted to convey.

These men aren’t like him. They can and will hurt me.

“Please,” I whimper, as I tug again.

“Begging already? I thought you’d hold out much longer than that. Good thing I plan to make you cry out even more.”

As I go to jerk again, his hands suddenly leave my wrist. I spiral out onto the floor and my bag goes skidding. His footsteps echo through the room as he walks over to me. The heavy thudding sound matches the deep pound of my heart in my skull until it’s all I can hear.

“Where the fuck is your bracelet? Identify yourself, submissive.”

When I don’t answer, he walks over and flips me up until I can finally see his face. Thatcher. Oh. Oh God. This is bad. He knows me. He knows my parents. He knows the dean. Fuck. There’s no way I can get out of this now.

As he reaches for my mask, I do the only thing I can think of. Self-preservation kicks in as I lift my foot and drive my heel into his balls. His soft grunt as he slides forward gives me a spark of hope. Maybe if I can get away, everything will be okay. But as I turn to crawl toward the door, his hand grabs my ankle and yanks hard, pulling me under him."

“You’re going to pay for that,” he snaps, his voice flooded with deadly venom. With a jerk of his wrist, he pulls off my mask. Everything stops as he stares down at me. His jaw goes slack as his gaze travels down my body. “Miss Ashleigh Hartwell. There’s absolutely no reason for you to be down here. That is, unless you belong to someone. Anyone I know?”

His voice drips over me like an oily film sliding off of a dirty exhaust pipe. Any lie I might conjure flees, leaving me a quivering mess as I try to say something. Anything.

“I- I got lost. I’m sorry.”

“Lying doesn’t become you, Ashleigh.” Again, he looks at my wrist. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think someone doesn’t want us to know you’re a member of this group. Only one person has that power.” His lips twist for a moment but quickly ease into a dark smirk. “Does our fearless leader know you’re down here without him?”

“No.” I finally admit as I hang my head.

“Tell you what. You don’t tell him about our little interaction, and I won’t tell him you were somewhere without his permission. Does that sound like a deal to you?”

Hesitation slows my brain as I desperately try to make it work. Can it really be this easy? Is it truly possible to get away with this?

“I’d take the deal, Ashleigh. After all, I’m not really the one in the wrong here. Without identification, I didn’t know who you were. And you did assault me. It could be much worse.”

“D- deal.”

My stomach churns as he helps me to my feet and hands me my bag. Once the mask is back in place, he helps me out the door and into his car.

“Just remember. You didn’t see me, and I didn’t see you. Your parents don’t have to know about this, do they?”

His veiled threat sits heavy on my ears. “No. They don’t.”

I can only hope I don’t come to regret this.

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