All Chapters of Her Feral Professor [ Your Professor Shouldn't Taste You]: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Alex Pov:I am being dragged along the hallway. Someone has my hand tightly in theirs and they tug me along. I am cold. I am numb. I squint at the figure in front of me and it is Zane. Panic rises within me as I regain consciousness completely. "Stop! Wait. Where? What are you doing? Where are you taking me? Oh my God, I have to go back. He said that... They all heard that we...Oh God. Zane. Zane. Wait. We have been found out." I say, I try to stop walking but he tugs me along."No, we haven't. Come on." Zane says, he turns to the stairs and starts taking them in twos. I am forced to match his pace. I blacked out earlier when he hit Tristan. The sickening crunching sound of the contact of bone against bone hit me like a nauseous wave but not before the crowd's gasp at what Tristan was saying before he was cut short washes over me. I blacked out. The fear engulfed me and I was vaguely aware of everything else that happened after. Tristan being tackled and bundled out by the security

Penny looks different. And not in a very good way. I don't know what I was expecting her to look like but this is kind of worse than I imagined. I can see why she would refuse to see her clique of superficial friends whilst looking like this. She has dark circles around her eyes with eye bags so prominent, I gape at them, unable to look away. Her hair looks worse than I have ever known it. Unwashed and uncared for, stringy brown clumps at her ears, matted in the spots she sleeps on. Her neck is wrapped with bandages. She has on the customary hospital gown and she lies on her bed all covered up to the neck. Her bedside table is suspiciously devoid of anything. Not even water or medicine of any kind. The entire room is blankly decorated. Just an hospital room. It is almost like she is not inhabiting the room. She occupies her lone bed like a ghost in the middle of the huge white room. It is so unlike the Penny I know that I don't even know what to think. So I stare at her, noticing fr

. If something seriously bad happens to her, I would be indirectly responsible again. And I am sick of being stuck in their business. I am sick of it. I don't want any part of it anymore. Before I can answer Maggie, a nurse walks in, more like burst through the door, she has worried panic in her eyes, her gaze lands on Penny on her bed first, her face is still turned stubbornly away. The nurse turns to Maggie and I, and she looks us over. "Penny, are you alright? What is the emergency?" She says as she hurries toward her bed. That button she was pushing so angrily was a call for help. The fucking coward. I can't believe her. "I want them out. Immediately." She says from behind her ugly hair hiding her face. She sounds off but her hate and anger still rings loudly in her voice.The nurse turns to us. She is young but older than us by at least five years. She looks apologetic about Penny's rudeness. This is probably not the first time she is requesting visitors to leave. "We are on

"Ah. Yes. Tristan. That kid." Mr. Bryan says. He makes a show of tapping his temple, eyes temporarily shut as he lowers his head. I can't tell if this gesture meant annoyance, frustration or shame. Maybe all three. "Yes sir. I am afraid he is in a bad spot right now. It doesn't look good at all." I manage to keep my tone professional, yielding nothing of what I actually feel. Which is rage. Alex texted me last night about Penny's plan to call off his charges, and I fought the urge to go down to that hospital and shake her loose till some senses fell into the damn girl's lap. For the life of me, I couldn't understand it. Even after Alex called and clarified things about her motivation for wanting to get her abuser out of his well-deserved punishment. It still baffled me.I am sitting across from Tristan's parents, his good-natured father and his quiet mother, average seeming parents who didn't bother with raising their sons with any morals that would make their transitioning into adu

I clasp my fingers on the desk and lean forward. Watching the pairs and doing my best to seem like the neutral link that I am not. Then Mr. Bryan opens his mouth and makes the potentially volatile situation worse. "Is this about the money? Because we will be glad to cover the costs." He says, a huff of optimistic pride behind his tone. Even the passive substitute Mr. Bolton has his jaw on the floor by the abject lack of emotional intelligence displayed by the man. Shirley looks like she can't believe her ears and I have to lean back, away from the volcano about to erupt from the woman. "Money? You think this is about the money?" Shirley asks, by her subdued tone, I can tell she is struggling to actually process Mr. Bolton's audacious foolishness. I can't tell if he is being serious or he is just trying to goad her for a reaction. But that surely can't be accurate. Isn't he here to beg for his son to be released? Why would he further jeopardize his chances by annoying the one pers