Chapter 9

Sarah

The crisp autumn air nips at my cheeks as I hurry across campus, my mind still reeling from yesterday's events. Lucas's touch, his kisses, the way he looked at me... A shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the cool breeze.

I adjust my bag on my shoulder, trying to focus on the day ahead. I have a class in twenty minutes, and I need to grab coffee before—

"Sarah? Is that you?"

The voice stops me cold, my blood turning to ice in my veins. I know that voice. I've spent years trying to forget it.

Slowly, I turn around. Mark stands there, a predatory smile on his face that doesn't reach his eyes. He's as handsome as ever, but now I can see the danger lurking beneath the surface.

"Mark," I manage, proud that my voice only shakes a little. "What are you doing here?"

He takes a step closer, and I have to fight the urge to back away. "I work here now, remember? But the real question is, what have you been up to, Sarah?"

There's something in his tone that sets alarm bells ringing in my head. I glance around, relieved to see other students milling about. He won't try anything here, will he?

"I don't know what you mean," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. "I have class, so if you'll excuse me—"

Mark's hand shoots out, gripping my arm. Not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to hold me in place. "Now, now," he says, his voice low and menacing. "Don't be rude. I think we need to have a little chat."

He leans in close, inhaling deeply. His eyes narrow, and a growl rumbles in his chest. "You smell like him," he hisses. "Like Morgan."

My heart pounds so hard I'm sure he can hear it. "I don't know what you're talking about," I lie, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mark's grip tightens, and suddenly I'm back in our old apartment, cowering as he looms over me, his eyes flashing with anger. I blink hard, forcing myself back to the present.

"Don't lie to me," he snarls. "I saw you go into his office yesterday. And you know what's interesting? The Dean stopped by Morgan's office while you were in there. Knocked for quite a while, but no answer. You two must have been... very busy."

Panic claws at my throat. How does he know? What does he want? I try to pull my arm free, but Mark's grip is like iron.

"Let go of me," I demand, my voice stronger than I feel. "You're hurting me."

The fear is familiar, settling into my bones like an old, unwelcome friend. I hate this feeling – the way my heart races, my palms sweat, my mind spins with worst-case scenarios. I thought I'd left this behind when I left Mark, but here it is again, as potent as ever.

"You're mine, Sarah," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Or have you forgotten that?"

I shake my head, anger momentarily overriding my fear. "I'm not yours, Mark. I haven't been for a long time."

He leans in closer, his breath hot on my ear. "Once mine, always mine. That's how it works for us, remember? And if Morgan thinks he can just waltz in and take what's mine..."

A chill runs down my spine at the implied threat. I want to be stronger than this, to stand up to Mark without flinching. But it's not that simple. The triggers aren't optional; they're embedded in my psyche, ready to flare up at the slightest provocation.

"Leave Lucas out of this," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "This is between you and me."

Mark's laugh is cold and humorless. "Oh, but he's very much involved now, isn't he? I wonder what the university would think if they knew a professor was fucking his student?"

I flinch at his crude words, my mind racing. He's right – if anyone found out about Lucas and me, it could ruin him. But even as I worry about Lucas's career, a more primal fear grips me. What will Mark do to me? The memories of his past violence flash through my mind, and I struggle to breathe.

"Please," I whisper, hating the pleading note in my voice but unable to stop it. "Don't do this, Mark."

"I don't want to hurt you, Sarah," Mark whispers with menace. "I just want what's mine."

Before I can respond, a group of students rounds the corner, their laughter cutting through the tension. Mark releases my arm abruptly, taking a step back.

"Think about what I said," he murmurs, his tone deceptively casual. "We'll talk again soon."

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving me trembling in his wake. I watch him go, my mind whirling with fear and confusion. What am I going to do? Lucas's job is at risk, but my own safety feels like a ticking time bomb.

The bell tower chimes, startling me out of my daze. I'm late for class, but I can't bring myself to care. All I can think about is Lucas, and the danger I've put him in.

I need to fix this. Somehow, I need to protect him, even if it means breaking my own heart in the process. I need time to think, to figure out how to keep him safe from Mark's threats.

As I hurry off campus, I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched. Mark's words echo in my head: "We'll talk again soon."

I've never been more terrified of a promise in my life.

The door slams behind me as I stumble into my apartment, my hands shaking so badly I can barely turn the lock. I lean against the door, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Safe. I'm safe now.

But for how long?

Mark's words echo in my head, a sinister promise that sends chills down my spine. "We'll talk again soon."

I push off from the door, my legs unsteady as I make my way to the living room. The afternoon sun streams through the windows, casting cheerful patterns on the floor that seem to mock my dark mood. How can the world look so normal when everything is falling apart?

I begin to pace, my mind racing. What am I going to do? Mark knows about Lucas and me. He could ruin Lucas's career with a single word to the Dean. And worse, what might he do to me? The memory of his iron grip on my arm, the cold fury in his eyes, makes me shudder. I'm not safe, not really. Not as long as Mark is around.

My phone feels heavy in my pocket. I should call Lucas, warn him. But what would I say? "Hey, my abusive ex-boyfriend is threatening to expose us, and I'm terrified he might hurt me"? The words stick in my throat, choking me.

I sink onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. How did everything go so wrong so quickly? Just yesterday, I was happier than I'd been in years. Now, I'm right back where I started – terrified, trapped, with Mark's shadow looming over me.

A sob escapes me, the sound loud in the quiet apartment. I let the tears come, no longer able to hold them back. I cry for the happiness I've lost, for the fear that's crept back into my life, for Lucas and the danger I've put him in, and for myself – the terror of facing Mark's wrath again.

When the tears finally subside, I'm left feeling hollow, drained. But beneath the exhaustion, a cold resolve begins to form. I know what I have to do.

I have to end things with Lucas. I have to quit his classes, cut all ties. It's the only way to protect him from Mark, from the potential scandal. It won't keep me safe from Mark, but at least it's something I can control. Something I can do to mitigate the damage I've caused.

The thought sends a fresh wave of pain through me, but I push it down. This isn't about me or what I want. It's about keeping Lucas safe, even if I can't do the same for myself.

With trembling fingers, I pull out my phone. Lucas's name sits at the top of my recent calls list, a reminder of happier times. I take a deep breath and press the call button.

The phone rings once, twice, three times. Each unanswered ring increases my anxiety. "Come on, Lucas," I whisper. "Pick up."

But he doesn't. After what feels like an eternity, his voicemail message plays. I hang up without leaving a message. What could I possibly say that wouldn't put him in more danger if Mark somehow got hold of his phone?

I try again, my heart pounding. Still no answer. The urge to leave a voicemail is strong, but I resist. It's too risky. What if Mark overheard? What if someone else listened to it?

Frustrated, I toss the phone onto the couch. Why isn't he answering? Is he in class? In a meeting? Or... a horrible thought strikes me. What if Mark got to him first?

No. I can't think like that. I need to focus, to figure out what to do next.

I stand up, resuming my pacing. The walls of my apartment feel like they're closing in on me. I need to get out, to clear my head. But the thought of going outside, where Mark might be waiting, makes my stomach churn.

I'm trapped, not just by Mark's threats, but by my own fear.

A sound from outside makes me jump. A car door slamming, nothing more. But it's enough to send my heart racing again. I hurry to the window, peeking out through the curtains. The street looks normal, no sign of Mark. But that doesn't mean he's not out there, watching, waiting.

I let the curtain fall back into place, leaning my forehead against the cool glass. The coolness does little to soothe the turmoil in my mind. Lucas's words echo in my thoughts: "You're my mate, Sarah."

What does that even mean for a shifter? Lucas tried to explain it, but it all seemed so intense, so permanent. If I break things off with him, how will it affect him? Will he be okay?

But then Mark's threatening voice overrides Lucas's in my mind, reminding me of the very real, very immediate danger we're both in. I've seen what Mark is capable of firsthand. The memory of his anger, his possessiveness, sends a shudder through me.

I don't fully understand what being Lucas's mate means, but I do know the threat Mark poses. And right now, that threat feels more real than any mystical shifter bond.

My finger hovers over the call button again. Just as I'm about to press it, I hear a sound that makes my blood run cold.

The front door is opening.

I freeze, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. I didn't imagine it. Someone is in my house.

"Sarah?" a familiar voice calls out. "We need to talk."

Mark. He's here.