CHAPTER 2
BRIANNA
The fluorescent lights in the department lounge had been dimmed hours ago, leaving only the desk lamp glowing like a guilty secret. Stacks of ungraded midterms teetered on every surface, red pens scattered like blood drops. It was past midnight. The building was dead quiet except for the occasional creak of old pipes and the soft rustle of paper.
I’d stayed late to help. That’s what I told myself. That’s what I told him.
Dante, Professor Hale to everyone else sat in his high-backed chair, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie long discarded. His hair was mussed from running his hands through it too many times. He looked exhausted. He looked wrecked. He looked like a man who’d been fighting himself since the first day of the semester.
I perched on the edge of his desk, le
