A week. A full, torturous week of sitting in his lecture hall, my skin crawling every time his gaze swept over my section. He never lingered. He never gave any sign that he remembered the taste of my skin or the way I’d screamed his name. He was Professor Croft—brilliant, distant, and completely in control. The silence was louder than any threat.

Then the notice went up on his office door: "Mandatory Mid-Term Meetings." A list of time slots on a crisp white sheet of paper. My eyes scanned the page, my heart hammering. The last slot. 4:30 PM. Friday. When the building would be almost empty. It was a...