I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 55: Chapter 55

Lysander’s pov

The moment my back hit the cold wood of the hallway corridor outside Darius’s study, my instincts took over, a primal, screaming urge to put as much distance as humanly possible between myself and that man.

I bolted through the front doors of the estate, shoving them open into the downpour.

The rain hit me like a wall of icy needles. Within seconds, my denim jacket and jeans were completely saturated, heavy and freezing against my skin, but I kept running. My sneakers slapped against the wet asphalt of the driveway, splashing through deep puddles, my breath tearing ragged and hot from my throat.

A leash. Darius’s voice echoed in my head, competing with the thunder rolling across the dark sky. It was never meant to protect you from monsters.

I ran until my lungs burned and my calves cramped, blindly navigating the storm until the wrought-iron gates of the university campus loomed out of the darkness. It was late, past eight in the evening and the cobblestone walkways were completely deserted, washed out by the relentless deluge.

I didn’t head for my dorm. My soaked sneakers carried me straight toward the heavy, gothic stone steps of the Fine Arts building.

It was the only place left. The only lead I had in a world that had suddenly dissolved into a nightmare. Darius had called the silver necklace a ward to keep Drake away. He had implied Drake knew what I was, that Drake wanted something from me. I needed to look into his eyes and ask him myself. I needed to know if the one man I thought was a safer option for now was just another predator waiting for his turn.

I pushed through the heavy front doors of the faculty building, leaving a trail of rainwater across the pristine marble floor.

The third-floor hallway was dead silent, illuminated only by the dim emergency lights humming overhead. I dragged myself down the corridor and slumped against the wall opposite Drake’s office door.

The office was dark, the frosted glass window black. He wasn’t inside.

I slid down the wall until my rear hit the cold tile, pulling my wet knees to my chest. I hugged myself, my teeth chattering so hard my jaw ached, my skin pale and goosebump-pimple rough under the soaked fabric of my clothes. My hands trembled violently, my bloodied knuckles stinging as the rainwater washed over the tiny cuts from the broken mirror.

So I waited.

One hour bled into two. The hallway grew colder, the hum of the fluorescent lights buzzing like a swarm of insects inside my skull. My phone vibrated twice in my back pocket, once from Gideon, once from an unknown number but I didn’t touch it. I couldn’t.

Every minute that passed felt like a slow bleed, my mind replaying the horror of the hidden cameras, Darius’s terrifying smile, and the image of Gideon’s hands on me.

It was nearly midnight when the heavy fire doors at the end of the hall swung open.

Footsteps echoed against the tile and my head snapped up.

Drake stepped into the dim light of the corridor. He was dressed in a dark, tailored overcoat, completely dry despite the storm raging outside, carrying a stack of leather-bound folios under one arm. He didn’t look like a man who had spent the night navigating a torrential downpour; he looked immaculate, distant, and completely removed from the filth of the human world.

My heart made a desperate, pathetic leap into my throat. "Drake..." I rasped, my voice dry and cracking.

Drake didn’t pause.

He reached his office door, pulled a brass key from his pocket, unlocked it, and stepped inside, leaving the door hovering open by an inch. He ignored my presence entirely as if I were nothing more than a discarded umbrella leaning against the baseboard.

I scrambled to my feet, my stiff, freezing muscles protesting violently. I stumbled across the hallway, pushing the door open, my hands trembling as I gripped the frame.

"Professor Drake—please," I begged, the words tumbling out of me in a desperate, shivering rush.

Drake was standing behind his dark mahogany desk, unbuttoning his coat. He set his leather folios down with a soft, precise thud. When he finally turned to look at me, his face was an unreadable porcelain mask, his dark eyes hollow and frigid.

"I believe I made myself clear earlier today, Lysander," he said. "My office is not a shelter for your personal drama. Leave."

"I have nowhere else to go!" I cried out, stepping further into the room, leaving wet, dark footprints on his Persian rug.

Tears finally welled in my eyes, hot against my freezing cheeks. "You don’t understand—I ran away. Darius... he had cameras in my room. Four of them. He’s been watching me for years. He watched Gideon assault me and he did nothing!"

Drake’s expression didn’t soften. Not a single line on his face shifted. He simply stood there, watching me choke on my own breath, his composure entirely unbroken.

"And why are you telling me this?" He asked coldly.

The question hit me like a physical blow. I gasped, my chest heaving. "Because he took my necklace! The silver one!!"

Drake slowly walked around his desk. He stopped a few feet in front of me, tall and looming, his presence casting a long, dark shadow over my trembling frame. He looked down at my bloodied, shivering hands, then raised his eyes to meet mine.

"Your stepfather is a paranoid fool who plays with toys he doesn’t understand," he said smoothly, his voice dropping into a quiet, dangerous register. "And you are a hysterical child running through the rain, looking for a savior where none exists."

"Drake, please..." I choked out, reaching out a shaking, wet hand toward him. "I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. Just tell me the truth."

He stepped back, avoiding my touch as if my wet skin were toxic.

He turned his back on me, picking up a fountain pen from his blotter.

I stood in the center of his quiet, elegant office, drenched, shivering, and entirely broken. The realization hit me with the finality of a closing tomb:

Drake wasn’t going to save me. Whatever he was, whatever Darius feared about him, he was just as cold, just as detached, and just as dangerous as the monsters I had left behind at the estate.

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