Sauter (Ironside Academy, #3)(52)

“I don’t really think you want me repeating it, Professor.” She tried to direct her attention to his chin so that she didn’t break out into a nervous sweat, but she only found her attention snagging on the bruises rising out of his collar. “I don’t know where you got those marks,” she added.

“Would you like to know?” he asked, a little too casually.

An alarm immediately blared to life inside her head, telling her that she was being invited into a trap, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She nodded. A small motion, easily overlooked.

“It’s called the Stone Dahlia.” He dropped his voice until she had to lean forward to hear him. “The clubhouse your secret admirer is texting you about.” He emphasised the word “clubhouse” as though it didn’t even begin to describe it. “But we’re pretty sure it isn’t one of the students. We think it’s someone from the Track Team.”

“The … track team? As in the—”

“No.” He didn’t even wait for her to properly voice the question. “I mean the group of stupidly powerful old men who run this whole show.” He flicked his hand around, indicating the cameras stationed around the room. “The billionaires who decide which students get put on the Icon Track. They run the Stone Dahlia, and we’re going to make sure you give them what they want.”

“First …” She quickly twisted to sit on her knees facing him, gaping at him as she held up a finger. “Why? And second—” She imitated his hand flick at the cameras. “—how do you know they aren’t listening right now?”

He tugged his phone from his pocket and waved it at her. “Elijah and Gabriel have been developing a security app. If they try to turn the cameras on to spy on us during our private sessions, we’ll all get a notification.”

“Can I get that app?” She chewed on her lip, watching as his expression relaxed slightly.

Had he expected their conversation to go differently?

“Yes.” He leaned forward, his forearms planted on his thighs, his hands hanging down between his knees. They seemed to have a fresh slew of healing scars scattered over them. “You did the right thing telling Theo and Kilian, Carter.”

“Um … you can call me Isobel, uh, if you want, Professor.”

“You don’t tell me what to call you. I decide that.” He flinched back, like he was reacting to his own sharp tone, his palms running over his thighs. “Sorry.” He grimaced. “It’s been a night.”

“I heard.”

“About what?”

“About the girlfriend.”

“Hm.” The sound was a rumble in his chest. “I don’t have one of those.”

“Well, you forgot about her pretty quick.”

Easton chuckled. “Don’t be a brat, Isobel. You can tease the other Alphas all you like, but it won’t get you anywhere with me. Nowhere you want to be, anyway.”

She bit her tongue.

“I’ve gone easy on you because you hadn’t been accepted into Dorm A yet, but you’re as good as moved in now, which makes you my responsibility. I’m more than a dorm supervisor or a mentor to these boys. I’m here for everything they need but most of the time, I’m also the one who decides what they need. Are you ready for that?”

“I’m not very good at being told what I need.” She quickly dropped her eyes to her knees, confused about when she had turned to face him so readily, like an eager fan straining to hear his every word. She relaxed her posture, stretching her legs out in front of her to ease the ache in her muscles. It wasn’t from her run, but from the heaviness she had sipped out of each of them, and that hollow sting persisting beneath her skin.

Easton watched her. “I’ve noticed.”

“I already have someone dictating what I need.”

“That’s your first free pass,” he informed her calmly. “Compare me to Braun Carter again and I’ll show you how a real man disciplines.”

She frowned, wriggling her toes. “You’re very threatening for a professor.”

“You’re remarkably unafraid for a girl who was almost murdered a month ago.”

She felt her lips tugging up at the sides. Was she enjoying talking to Easton? It felt like she was. “I’ve had worse.”

“No, you haven’t,” he said softly. “But you’re one of mine, now. Nothing like that will happen to you again.”

A shudder travelled up her spine, making her vision hazy at that word.

Mine.

Her toes stopped wiggling, curling in shock, before she curbed the reaction.

“You … I …” she stumbled. “Thank you, Professor?”

His lips lifted at the corners. “You’re welcome, Isobel.”

She stared at him, struck dumb. “I feel weird,” she blurted. “I feel like you just took away all my problems and made them all sound so simple, but they’re not. Like, why would the Track Team be threatening me into trying to figure out a way to contact them? Why wouldn’t they just talk to me? And if the officials know about your … ability—which they do, if they have the blackmail video—how are you still here?”

“Not all of the officials,” Easton said. “The Track Team is only a percentage of them, and they want to know damaging things about people. It’s how they enslave them. If they can’t find anything damaging on you and they want you on their side, they’ll force you into doing something incriminating, just to make sure you’re properly under their heel before they take you on board.”