Page 64 of August and the Night

There he is, the one who has funded this incredible opportunity, the one who has found a way to support the very research that has become my passion. The person that broke me is there, funding one of my biggest dreams. My teeth clench.

August turns, his gaze locking onto me. Our eyes meet, and in that instant, the world seems to stand still. But something changes in his expression—a subtle shift, a growl of sorts, a narrowing of his eyes.

My heart pounds, and my mind races to understand the source of his reaction. Then, I remember what he said about killing any man that got my attention, the need to claim me as his. Panic flits through me, and I quickly recall his words of warning. At this moment, I don't want to take the risk with my professor’s life.

Hastily, I move, my mind racing. The touch of George's hand on the small of my back—a gesture that had felt so innocent and supportive. But in this moment, it feels intimate. With a swift, determined movement, I gently remove George's hand from my back, ensuring that there is no trace of physical contact between us, taking a couple of steps away from him to put more distance between us.

August's gaze never leaves us, his eyes narrowed and intense. As the hand falls away, his anger still lingers. But honestly, I can’t care less. He doesn't get to stop me from interacting with men, and if it weren't for my professor’s sake, I would have kept his hand exactly where it was.

My professor starts to introduce me, and before I can fully comprehend the situation, August steps forward, closing the gap between us. His hand finds its way to my waist, his touch both possessive and gentle.

"Are you really introducing me to my girlfriend?" August's voice is laced with fake amusement, his lips curving into a condescending smirk.

Caught off guard, Professor George flushes deeply, his stammered apologies revealing that he has no idea about our connection. My cheeks warm with anger and embarrassment too. Who does this man think he is?

The dean bursts into laughter at the unexpected revelation. "Ah, funding your girlfriend's dream. What a cute couple."

August's grip on my waist tightens subtly as he notices how tense I am, and I can't help but glance up at him, my heart racing as I meet his gaze.

"There isn't a thing I wouldn't give to my little dove on a plate of gold," August's words are tender, the intensity in his gaze not escaping me.

My cheeks flush even deeper, the heat of embarrassment mingling with the warmth of his words. But I know that to save myself from further embarrassment, I need to play along.

I offer a shy smile, allowing him to pull me slightly closer to his side. "You're too kind, August."

After a bit more of small talk, he catches my eye and, without a word, excuses us with a subtle gesture. I follow him outside, trying to free myself from his arms.

Once we are outside, I snatch myself from his arms. Without warning, frustration bubbles up within me, and I turn to him, my voice laced with anger.

"I'm not your girlfriend anymore, August! Leave me alone!" I practically scream, my emotions getting the best of me.

He reaches out, his hands gently cupping my face, an intensity in his gaze that catches me off guard. "Aren't you happy?" he asks softly, his tone laced with vulnerability.

I growl out my response, my anger fueling my words. "I was happy until the moment I found out it's you meddling in my life again. I wasn't.”

A scowl crosses his features, his frustration mirroring mine. I meet his gaze with unyielding anger, a sense of defiance that has become my armor.

"August, no more flowers. No more gestures. No more shit. I want you gone, out of my life," I declare, my voice steady despite the turmoil within.

He tskes, shaking his head as if my words are inconsequential. The dismissive gesture only fuels my anger further.

With a soft whisper, he speaks again, his words carrying an undeniable determination. "You're not getting rid of me, little dove."

50

August

After I drop Layla off at her apartment despite her resistance, Dante and I find ourselves in my office again, a place where we can speak freely and without drawing unwanted attention. The air is thick with tension, our work for the past month finally paying off, we have officially tracked Arthur Lexington. This is powered by the need to bring justice to the women who hold our hearts.

Leaning forward, I lock eyes with Dante, my gaze unwavering. "He can't escape the consequences of what he has done to them. It's time for him to pay."

Dante's nod is firm, his jaw sets with rage. "Absolutely. We can't let Arthur Lexington slip through our fingers. I am going to make him regret the day he was fucking born."

We share a knowing look, we are not going to let anyone who hurt our women roam free, I know deep down that Layla is still scared of her father.

Still scared that one day he will show up to her door and hurt her, over my dead fucking body. I would do anything to make her feel safe.

Dante and I swiftly leave the office as we notice Arthur in the area. We climb into Dante’s car, the engine roaring to life as he takes the driver's seat. We are predators and Arthur is prey, we are going to hunt him, and we won't rest until he is caught.

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