Page 69 of Shattered Souls
“Yes.” That one word is a growl. “Here.”
In the next instant, his lips are on mine, and any thoughts about being in public cease to exist.
19
RILEY
“Ah, Miss James. Nice of you to join us.” I’m too busy cussing Dr. Whitaker out in my head for making it sound like I’m late when, in fact, I’m five minutes early to pick up on his phrasing. It’s only as I step over the threshold and see the absolute last person I want to be confined in a room with, sitting in a chair opposite my advisor’s desk, that I realize he saidus.
Him and Bertram.
The air stalls in my lungs, and I can’t look away. His dark hair is meticulously groomed, not a strand out of place. Those cold, dark eyes that used to haunt my nightmares are now filled with a sickening gleam of triumph. As always, he’s well-dressed in a tailored suit that screams power and control. He’s the very image of sophistication, a mask hiding the monster beneath.
His lips curl into a smile, charming and disarming to anyone else but me. I know what lies beneath that facade: cruel manipulations and twisted games. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat a reminder of the fear and pain he inflicted.
His presence exudes a nauseating confidence, the kind that turns my stomach and makes my skin crawl. He’s exactly the same as he always has been—not a hint of remorse or changein his demeanor. Just the same polished exterior, the same air of superiority. And as I stand there rooted to the spot without Grayson or Logan to ground me, memories flood back with a ferocity that threatens to bring me to my knees.
“Have a seat, and we’ll get this meeting underway.” Dr. Whitaker’s voice rips me out of my spiral, and I swivel to leave, but he’s already closed the door behind me. With that look of disapproval permanently stuck on his face in my presence, he gestures toward the only available chair—the one right beside Bertram.
“W-what is he doing here?” I demand, feet cemented to the floor. There is absolutely no way I am sitting beside that sick bastard. The fact I’m breathing the same air as him is too much already.
“Your stepfather felt it was prudent that he be a part of this conversation,” Dr. Whitaker states in a no-nonsense tone, which makes it clear there is no getting out of this. “Given the circumstances.”
“Now, Riley.” Bertram’s tone is falsely sweet as he slowly rises to his feet, hands held up as though he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “I only want what’s best for you. Together, I’m confident that the three of us can come to some agreement on what that is.”
“What are you talking about?” I’m physically shaking now.
I might not be a wild animal, but I feel cornered between these two predators. Trapped. My gaze darts back and forth between them, my palms sweaty as I fist my hands at my side.
Bertram’s head tilts in a mimic of sympathy that I know is bullshit. “We talked about this the other night, remember? How you’ve been struggling to keep up with the course load. How you were considering dropping out to focus on your mental health—maybe try community college in the fall.”
My teeth grind, pure molten rage flaring hot through my veins. “I never said that. I’m not dropping out. Halston is where I belong.”
“Your grades would suggest otherwise,” Dr. Whitaker drawls, and fuck me, I truly despise this man. Of course, even if I had wanted to explain my slipped grades to him, I can’t with Bertram here.
“I’m working on improving them,” is all I say, but it sounds weak even to my ears. Mainly because I know I’ll struggle to give my studies the attention needed until Aurora is safely back in my arms.
Dr. Whitaker hums in disagreement, but I’m too busy eyeing down Bertram to look at him. “In my experience, students rarely come back from this. The academic rigor at Halston is such that once you fall behind, it’s near impossible to catch up.”
Tongue in cheek, I don’t respond. I can’t, because deep down, I know he’s right. While it’s perfectly understandable that my grades have slipped, and one lousy semester isn’t going to derail my academics or future career, there’s no arguing with the fact that every day I fall farther behind creates a deeper hole for me to climb my way out of.
Obtaining Bs or Cs now could result in me struggling to achieve anything higher for the rest of my academic career. A subpar transcript could follow me into my working life and prevent me from being chosen for jobs or result in me getting paid less than someone else because I’m deemed not ascompetent.
The entire point of working my ass off to get in here and leaving Aurora with Lydia was so I could do everything within my power to ensure I could provide for her. That she’d have the life she deserves. A mother she can respect and look up to.
While focusing on my studies feels impossible right now, Ihaveto give them the attention they require. Ihaveto keep working toward that future, regardless of its implausibility.
“I’ll do better.” This time, the conviction in my voice rings true, and I lift my chin, staring down Bertram. No way am I letting him convince this old dickbag to kick me out.
“Dr. Whitaker and I feel community college would be more at your… level.”
This fucking asshole.
“No.” I refuse to even stand here and listen to him spout such bullshit. Turning my back on Bertram and ignoring the cold sweat that gathers along my spine, I focus purely on my mentor. He’s the only one who matters. “Give me until the end of the year. If I can’t prove to you that I can get my grades back up,thenwe can discuss alternatives.”
It’s a daring move, especially given how volatile my life outside of Halston is, but it’s all I can do.
Dr. Whitaker’s lips purse in displeasure. The arrogant dickhead probably has the paperwork to have me stricken from the school register tucked in his top drawer, just waiting for his signature.
