The hallway felt colder when we stepped back outside. The oak doors loomed behind us, shutting out Kevon's voice, shutting out the storm.
Inside, though, the storm was alive.
Kevon's voice cut sharp through the silence. "You're punishing them for an accident, Joseph. That's not justice—it's ego."
Bomstorm didn't flinch. His hands pressed flat against the desk, veins pulsing at his temple. "Accident? I saw Disorder. Do you think the rest of this institution cares about your excuses?"
Kevon's voice didn't back down—it was sharp and furious. "You're not a Provost right now, Joseph—you're a tyrant. Threatening expulsion over fear? Over instinct? That's not discipline, that's cruelty."
Bomstorm rose from his chair like a shadow uncoiling, his coat flaring behind him. His eyes were fire, veins pulsing at his temple. "Cruelty? I call it order. I walked into a situation—two students dragging a faculty member across the pavement like criminals. That image will stain this university. And you dare call it instinct?"
Kevon's fists clenched at his sides, his bandaged nose stark under the light. His chest heaved, every word dripping with rage. "I startled them. I admit that. Veronica swung because she thought someone was about to grab her. Renae panicked.. And you want to destroy them for surviving?"
Bomstorm slammed his palm against the desk, the sound cracking like thunder. "Survival does not excuse humiliation. This institution runs on discipline. Without it, we are nothing but noise. And I will not let anything consume us."
Kevon stepped closer, his voice rising, and unrelenting. "You think fear will keep order? No—it breeds rebellion. You're blind, Joseph. You're so obsessed with control that you've forgotten compassion. You're not protecting this university—you're strangling it."
"Strangling? I'm doing my job," Bomstorm spat, his voice low but venomous. "And you may not like it, but who cares? I'm in this position because I have what it takes to keep messes from destroying what's good..I am keeping the order that makes this university stays on top."
Kevon's laugh was sharp, bitter, almost feral. "Order? What fucking order, Joseph? The kind you buy with tuition checks and family names? The kind where loaded families grease your hands with their filthy stacks of cash while the rest of us scrape by? That's not order—that's corruption dressed in a suit."
Bomstorm's face twisted, his knuckles whitening against the mahogany desk. "You think you can lecture me on corruption? You're a just a God Damn faculty member.You don't carry the weight of this institution on your back. I do. Every scandal, every headline, every whisper—it lands on me. And I will not let two reckless girls drag this university into the mud."
Kevon stepped closer, his chest heaving, fury radiating off him. "Reckless? They were terrified. You don't see students—you see liabilities. You don't see fear—you see inconvenience. And you don't see me—you see a threat to your precious image. That's your problem, Joseph. You care more about appearances than people."
Bomstorm's voice thundered, shaking the air. "Reputation keeps the doors open. Without it, we're finished! Without them, this place collapses. Without them, donors vanish, and every student here pays the price. I am the wall saving everything…, and I will not let compassion tear it down."
Kevon's eyes burned, his voice dropping into a growl. "Are you hearing yourself? Are you kidding me right now? With people like you in this society, I'm scared because not a lot of humans are left. But guess what? I am human. I'm a father. God dammit, I'm terrified my son will grow up walking into institutions or offices run by men who shove their noses into people's lives, crushing anyone who doesn't fit their mold. Kids, unknown to their future, trapped in the unfairness of this life, unaware of their fate not being saved—not by merit, but by money, by whispers, by family names.
Kids fight—fucking fight—to reach the same level your high ass sits on, but instead they get torn up, spit out, and destroyed by the minute, every damn day. You sicken me.
Titi—remember her? Michael, Sarah—they've done far worse, far, far worse. But because their families whisper in your ear, you look the other way. Suddenly their sins vanished. That's your order? That's your justice? No, Joseph. You're not a wall—you're a cage. And cages break people. You're breaking them. You're breaking this place. And one day, when the cracks finally split, you'll realize you weren't protecting anything—just slowly dragging it to its death."
Bomstorm's reply came like steel grinding against stone, his voice higher than before ."You think passion makes you righteous, Kevon? It doesn't. It makes you reckless. You call me a cage—I call myself a shield. Without me, this place collapses under the weight of scandal,and mediocrity. You talk about fairness, but fairness doesn't keep the lights on. Discipline does. Order does. And if that makes me the villain, so be it. I'll wear that crown, because unlike you, I don't have the luxury of idealism. I have the burden of keeping this institution alive."
Kevon's jaw tightened, his voice steady but burning. "Burden? Don't you dare twist this into some noble sacrifice. You're not carrying weight—you sit there, Joseph, pretending you're the spine of this place, but all I see is rot. You hide behind your authority. You don't shield—you suffocate. You call yourself a shield, but shields protect. You don't protect anyone, Joseph—you destroy their hope. You cage every student who doesn't come with a family fortune stuffed in their pockets. And then you justify it with words like discipline and order, when really it's just fear. You think compassion is weakness? No. Weakness is bending to dirty scams, and. Weakness is letting money dictate justice….Right now am seeing a very weak ass bitch standing in the form of a man"
Bomstorm's breath came heavy, his glare molten. For a moment, his authority wavered, but he pushed back. "You presume too much, Mr. Alexander. You forget your place."
Kevon's laugh was bitter, hollow. "My place? My place is to protect my students. And right now, you're the threat. You sit on your throne, preaching discipline, but all you're doing is breaking them. You want obedience, not growth. You want silence, not voices. That's not leadership—it's fearmongering."
The silence that followed was suffocating, heavy with rage and truth. Bomstorm's breath came ragged, his authority trembling at the edges. His eyes narrowed, molten with fury, but behind them flickered something else—doubt. The hum of the lights overhead buzzed like judgment. Bomstorm's hands trembled against the desk, his storm‑cloud gaze locked on Kevon.
Finally, he exhaled, slow, deliberate, like a man swallowing his own fury. "Fine. I will reconsider my decision. But one more incident—just one—and I will personally sign their expulsion. So engrave my warning in your fucking skull."
Kevon's jaw tightened, his voice steady but burning with contempt. "Engrave it in my skull? No, Joseph—engrave this in yours. Students sit in front of us every day. They give us our jobs, they give us purpose. Without them, this isn't an institution—it's just a hollow building, abandoned and waiting for someone else's imagination to turn it into whatever the hell they want.
Fear only takes.. Fear only empties classrooms. Fear only drives voices into silence. And when silence is all that's left, this place dies. You can threaten me, you can threaten them, but know this—if you keep ruling by fear, you won't just lose students. You'll lose the soul of this place. And when that happens, Joseph, no amount of money, no amount of talks, no amount of discipline will save you from the collapse you built with your own hands."
With that, he walked off toward the door, leaving Joseph too stunned to speak. Joseph's knees felt weak as he sank back down behind his desk.
What felt like hours soon ended when the door opened.
The door creaked, and the air that escaped was thick—like smoke after a fire, heavy with rage that hadn't burned out but smoldered in silence. It clung to my skin, pressing down on my chest, making each breath feel like swallowing ash.
Kevon stood in the doorway, his presence filling it like a shield. His eyes carried fire, but beneath it was steel—a warning carved into his stare. He gestured for us to come back inside, his movements deliberate, protective, as though guiding us into a lion's pit he already knew too well.
Bomstorm sat rigid behind his desk, posture stiff, eyes narrowing into blades sharp enough to carve our names into stone. The room itself felt colder, the walls closing in.
Kevon closed the door behind us, the sound echoing like a lock sealing fate. He guided us back to our seats, his hand steady, his glance at Bomstorm a silent threat: I will protect them. I will protect every student who walks into this pit unaware of the beast waiting inside.
The atmosphere was suffocating, a storm contained within four walls. Bomstorm's gaze was molten, Kevon's was fire, and we were caught between them—two forces colliding, with our fate balanced on the edge of their war.
Renae's nails dug into my arm, sharp enough to sting, pulling me out of the suffocating silence. I slapped at her hand, and she jumped, blinking back into reality, rubbing the marks she'd left on my skin.
"I'm so, so sorry—"
"Miss Richards," Bomstorm cut her off, his tone clipped and cold. Renae's head snapped toward him, her face paling. She darted a pleading glance at Kevon, but he only gave her a steady smile, a silent promise.
"You will receive a verbal warning. Nothing written, nothing permanent. But make no mistake—your name will not survive another incident. This university cannot afford trouble. Carry this warning like a brand burned into your memory. Discipline is not negotiable."
Kevon shifted beside us, his bandaged nose catching the light, his voice edged with steel. "Provost, with respect, they've already admitted it was an accident. Surely—"
Bomstorm raised a hand, silencing him with a glare sharp enough to cut. "Mr. Alexander, I have spoken. The warning stands. It is light, yes, but it is not meaningless. Mercy does not erase consequence."
I sat rigid, pulse hammering, watching Renae nod quickly, her voice trembling. "I promise, sir. It won't happen again."
Bomstorm's gaze lingered on her, then flicked to me, heavy as stone. "See that it doesn't. Both of you."
The silence pressed down, suffocating, until he leaned back, exhaling through his nose like a man forcing down his anger. "Veronica, you will submit a written account of what happened. I expect clarity, not excuses. That will be all."
My throat tightened, but I managed a nod. "Yes, sir."
Bomstorm's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping into a growl. "This institution cannot afford anything going wrong. Consider this mercy. Do not test me again."
We rose together, chairs scraping against the floor like chains dragged across stone. Outside, the corridor stretched long and empty. Renae clutched my arm, whispering through the tension.
"A verbal warning, Vee. Just a warning. I thought we were done for."
I managed a weak smile, though my heartbeat still thundered in my chest. "Kevon saved us. Without him, Bomstorm would've buried us alive."
Renae laughed softly, shaking her head. "Remind me to buy that man a lifetime supply of coffee. Or maybe a nose guard."
Her humor cracked the tension, and for the first time since the everything began, I felt air return to my lungs. Still, Bomstorm's words echoed in my mind—one more incident and you're gone.
We walked slowly down the hall, our footsteps muffled against the polished floor. Renae nudged me playfully. "You know, we should write this down. 'How Not to Accidentally Knock Out Your Advisor 101.' Could be a bestseller."
I shot her a look, half amused, half exhausted. "Or a cautionary tale. Either way, let's just make sure there's no sequel."
Looking back, we stopped in our tracks as Kevon stepped out of the office, his presence still carrying the storm he'd left behind. Bomstorm's fury hadn't vanished; it lingered in the corridor, pressing against our skin.
Kevon's eyes softened when they landed on us, though the steel in them never faded. "Come on," he said firmly, gesturing us forward. His voice carried both relief and warning, the kind that made my stomach twist.
We followed him down the hall, silence broken only by the echo of our footsteps. Renae clutched my arm, whispering, "I felt like we were roasting in a 500 degree fire place..I never wanna go back in his office..ever!! ." Kevon glanced back, , his bandaged nose catching the light. "You're safe—for now. But don't forget what you just walked out of. That man will look for any excuse to tear you apart. Don't give him one."
His words hit like stone, heavy and unshakable.
Then his pace quickened, urgency replacing the weight of the storm. "You're already late as hell," he muttered, pushing us forward. "Get to class. Move."
We rushed after him, the corridor stretching long and empty, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Kevon's stride was relentless, guiding us like a shield, his presence a reminder that he'd fight for us… Though the shadow of discipline lingered behind us. Mercy had been given—but the edge of Bomstorm's threats still loomed, waiting for the smallest misstep.