Page 81 of Deviant Obsession

The professor shakes his head minutely—a warning or a plea, I'm not sure which. But the subtle gesture only feeds Dean's growing suspicion. His fingers dig deeper into my flesh as he studies my reaction.

“Baby?”

I open my mouth, but no sound emerges. My tongue feels leaden, useless. Professor Shaw takes careful step towardsDean, his movements deliberately slow as if approaching a wild animal.

"Dean, perhaps this isn't the place?—”

"Don't." Dean growls. "Something's going on. I can see it on both your faces."

My pulse thunders in my ears as Dean's gaze rakes over me, picking apart every detail of my guilty expression. I watch the exact moment realization hits—his eyes widening, fingers going slack around my arm before tightening again.

"What did you do?" The question comes out a rasped whisper, but it might as well be a scream for how it echoes through my skull. "Tell me you didn't..."

"Dean, please. I can explain?—”

"Can you?" His bitter laugh holds no humor. "Can you explain why you look ready to pass out just from seeing my stepdad? Why he can barely meet my eyes?"

Professor Shaw steps closer again, reaching for his stepson's shoulder. "Let her go, Dean. We can discuss this?—”

"Discuss what exactly?" Dean violently shrugs off the placating touch. "How long? How long have you been fucking her? Yourstudent?My Rhea!"

The crude accusation shatters what remains of my sanity. Bile rises in my throat as Dean's face contorts with a mixture of rage and betrayal. His grip loosens just enough for me to twist away, but his fingers catch mine before I can retreat.

"Tell me! Was this why you needed space? Why you couldn’t call me back? Because you were too busy spreading your legs for?—”

"Dean!" Professor Shaw's hissed admonishment cuts through his tirade. "That's enough. Someone will hear you."

But it's not enough. It's nowhere near enough to express the depth of Dean's anger, of his pain. I can see it in his eyes—thehurt that goes beyond mere jealousy. The kind of heartbreak you can’t come back from.

I have to get out of here before I collapse onto the paving stones.

I wrench my wrist free with enough force to stumble backward, my shoulder hitting the nearest wall. Dean's face falls slack as he processes the truth written in my desperate escape attempt.

"Don't you dare run from me now. Please, Rhea." I catch the slight crack in his quiet plea, but I'm already moving. My feet carry me across the quad, fueled by adrenaline alone.

"Dean—” Professor Shaw's distant warning barely registers through the sound of blood rushing in my ears, but there’s no mistaking the sharp crack of something hitting the brick wall. Their voices rise in heated argument, but I can't make out the words over the hammering of my boots against stone.

My lungs burn as I sprint past curious faces, shouldering through a group of students dawdling towards the parking lot. Someone calls my name. I don't stop to find out who.

I have to leave. Have to get off this campus, out of this town. Hell, maybe out of this state altogether. My mind races through my scant choices as my feet race past the parking lot.

I can withdraw from classes online. Pack up my stuff. Leave a note for Nat and be gone before any of them can find me.

The afternoon sun blinds me as I race down the sidewalk, gasping for air that won't seem to fill my lungs. My vision blurs—tears or panic, I'm not sure which. Probably both. My legs carry me across town on autopilot while my world disintegrates around me.

Chapter 28

Professor Shaw

I watchRhea's auburn hair streaming behind her like flames from a rocket as she flees across the quad, my fingers digging into Dean's bicep to keep him from pursuing. His ragged breaths match the quaking in his arm, pure rage vibrating beneath my grip.

"Let me go," he snarls, yanking against my hold.

My warning dies in my throat as his fist connects with the brick wall. The sharp crack of impact makes me wince, but Dean doesn't even blink. Blood wells from his split knuckles, staining the pale stone.

"That's enough, Dean. We're not doing this here. My house.Now."

"Fuck you." Dean's refusal drips venom as he lets his injured hand fall slack by his side. "I'm going after her."

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