Chapter 143

Chapter 143
Fig’s POV

The flickering glow of my office lamp spills across the scattered essays on my desk, the silence of Manchester School’s evening a veil over my churning thoughts.

My pen frozen in my hand, my mind consumed by Alison—her fierce, untamed eyes, her body writhing beneath me, her gasps in the bathroom, the car, a wildfire I’m addicted to.

I sigh weary.

I’m halfway through grading when my door bursts open,with three students bursting in, their voices a chaotic roar, faces alight with gossip. “Mr. Fig, it’s a fight in the quad!” one shouts, panting and gasping for air. “Alison Blake and Rita Torres—they’re tearing each other apart!”

My heart seizes, Alison’s name sends a sparking rage and dread that surges through my veins.

I’m up immediately, papers flying, my chair scraping, my voice low. “What did you say?” My eyes blaze, the image of Alison—my Alison—fighting, bloodied, claws out, a vision that guts me.

“Why?” I demand, already stepping out, my jacket snatched, my mind beating fast.

“Over Crew Manchester!” a girl yells, trailing me, her voice shrill.

“They’re screaming about who fucked him first, who owns him—it’s insane, blood everywhere!” Her words are fire as I burn with anger, Crew’s name a wound ripping open, Alison’s obsession with that boy is something I can never understand, her public brawl a humiliation I can’t swallow.

My rage is a beast, angry and possessive—Alison’s mine, her body, her moans, our secret fucks a claim she’s shattering by clawing for him, by dragging our connection into the dirt.

I storm across campus, my boots pounding, the students’ chatters I ignore, my heart a furnace of fury.

The quad’s a fucking arena, a crowd howling, phones flashing, their cheers a sick pulse. Alison’s in the center, her golden hair now in a wild halo, her blazer shredded, blood streaming from her cheek, straddling Rita, her fist cocked, her scream—“Crew’s fucking mine!”— like an animal cry that electrifies and enrages me.

Rita’s thrashing, her lip split, her “You’re a delusional bitch!” a desperate retort, their fight a blood-soaked spectacle that sears my soul.

My voice thunders, splitting through the chaos. “STOP THIS NOW!” I shove through,as security grapples them, my eyes locked on Alison, her chest heaving, her defiance a fire I want to consume and crush.

“Principal’s office, now!” I roared, my face didn't hide my disappointment in her as I looked at her.

Alison’s gaze met mine, her eyes flashing in shock, then a defiant, taunting glint, she smirks. I felt something twist in my gut.

Rita’s glare is killing as she screams at Alison as the security guards hold and drag her to Andrews office, but it’s Alison I’m fixated on, her betrayal—fighting for Crew, not me—a public slap I’ll make her pay for.

I march them to Andrews’ office, my silence a brewing storm, my fists clenched, my mind screaming: She’s mine, not his, and I’ll fucking remind her.

In Andrews’ office, the air’s suffocating, Alison and Rita slumped in chairs, their faces bruised, blood drying, their eyes avoiding each other, the tension is crazy.

Andrews’ voice drones, probing, but I’m barely hearing, my rage a roaring pulse, my need to punish Alison—to break her obsession with Crew, to reclaim her—a consuming fire.

“This is a disgrace,” I snapped, my voice a low,growl, standing, my hands shaking with barely contained violence.

“They fought like feral dogs, drawing blood, disrupting the school, all because of their pathetic fixation on a boy. I demand severe punishment—suspension, expulsion consideration, permanent marks on their records!”

My eyes bore into Alison, her cheek swollen, her blazer torn, and I’m torn between wanting to shield her and wanting to crush her for shaming me, for choosing him, for bleeding for someone else.

Andrews’ eyes narrow, his voice measured as he spoke. “Mr. Fig, calm down. We’ll address this.” But I’m not calm, my rage is spiked up, with Alison’s faint smirk—her fucking defiance—fueling it. “Two-week detention,” Andrews says, “mandatory counseling, campus service. It’s final.”

Rita scoffs, her anger raging, but Alison is silent, her eyes flicking to mine, is a challenge, a spark that makes my cock twitch, my fury and desire a twisted knot.

My push for harsher punishment was for order, for Rita, but mostly for her—to make her feel the weight of her betrayal, to force her back to me, to our secret, her body mine, not Crew’s.

The meeting ends, Andrews dismissing them, and Rita bolts, her voice a hiss—“You’re a fucking curse, Alison!”—her sneakers echoing as she storms off.

Alison rises, her walk slow, deliberate, her eyes avoiding mine, her bloodied cheek taunting, and I wait outside, my heart a raging pulse, my need to confront her a fire I can’t douse. “Alison,” I growl, my voice sounding like a jagged command, stepping into her path, my body inches from hers.

“My office. Now.” My words are firm, my desire to break her, to fuck her, to own her again, and make her scream.

She stops, her eyes locking onto mine, a storm of defiance, guilt, and something darker—desire, maybe, or power. Her cheek’s raw, her hair tangled in mess, but she’s still a goddess, her fire unquenched, and I’m burning for her.

“What, Fig?” she hisses, her voice low, angry, stepping closer, her perfume—jasmine and musk—hitting me like a drug.

“Gonna punish me yourself?” she asks as she moves closer to me. Her body radiating heat, and I’m shaking, my hands itching to grab her, to slam her against the wall, to make her scream my name, not his.

“Move,” I snarl, my voice sending a guttural warning, my eyes blazing, my cock hard, my control fraying. “You fucked up, Alison—fighting for him, bleeding for him, when you’re…” I choke on the word—mine—my secret with her a noose tightening.

“You’re throwing everything away,” I hiss, my hand twitching, grazing her arm, a shock of heat that makes her flinch, her eyes widening, her defiance cracking. “My office, or I’ll drag you there.” My threat sounds more serious, my need to confront her, to break her obsession, to reclaim her body, a fire I’m drowning in.

She smirks, faint, her voice a whisper. “Lead the way, sir.” Her mockery cuts, her fight for Crew a betrayal, but her fire, her challenge, pulls me, my rage and desire a storm.

My office waits,there I'll punish her, and make her heart my obsession, and make her get obsessed also. No matter the cost. I'm not done with her.

Not yet.

“Follow me.”