That night, past midnight, Lucian pushed open his dorm room door... and immediately wanted to collapse on the bed.
His entire body felt like it had been wrung out and left to dry. Not physically — but mentally? Emotionally? He was running on fumes.
He kicked the door shut behind him, dropped his bag on the floor, and fell face-first onto his bed without bothering to take off his boots.
Fuck today.
The confrontation with Marcus had been the easy part. Quick. Controlled. Surgical.
Everything that came after?
That had been the real nightmare.
The faculty office had been a bureaucratic hell.
Hours. Hours of sitting in uncomfortable chairs while professors and administrators asked the same questions in seventeen different ways.
"Walk us through the timeline again, Mister Valemont."
"How did you discover Miss Marsh's involvement?"
"What evidence do you have linking Thornwell to the intermediary?"
