One Night With My Alpha Professor by Eve Above Story

Chapter 212

Audrey

The security office at Brooks Designs was dimly lit this late at night, the city block outside quiet and empty. It was almost surreal being back here; I hadn’t come here since last summer, when I was interning here.

As Edwin and I stepped inside, the security guard behind the front desk jerked awake, nearly knocking over his lukewarm coffee in his haste to stand up.

“O-Oh! Mr. Brooks…” he stammered, his face flushing red. “What brings you here at this hour?”

Edwin didn’t even bat an eye at the guard’s obvious embarrassment. “We need to see some CCTV footage from the design department. From last summer.”

The guard’s face fell slightly. “Ah, I’m sorry sir, but we archive our footage every six months to save disk space. Anything from last summer would be down in the basement archives by now.”

“Can you take us there?” I asked. “We really need to see the footage.”

The guard nodded quickly, his keys jangling as he fumbled for the ring at his hip. “Of course, of course. Follow me.”

As we made our way down to the basement, Edwin gave my hand a squeeze and sent a reassuring nudge down the mate bond. We would find the evidence we needed to prove that Mr. Black had some part in foul play surrounding my thesis.

Or at least, so I hoped.

But if we didn’t find anything… A single clip on my own security camera footage of someone photographing my project though the window wouldn’t be enough.

The basement hallway that the security guard led us to was cool and slightly musty-reminiscent of the abandoned room that Edwin and I used to meet in. In an attempt to get my mind off of my nerves, I sent an image of those days-or rather, nights-down the bond.

A moment later, Edwin jerked his hand and coughed, his face reddening.

“Minx,” Edwin’s voice echoed in my head. I suppressed a smirk.

Finally, the guard unlocked a small door at the end of the hallway. He pushed the door open to reveal a large storage room, tall metal shelves stacked high with cardboard boxes. Filing cabinets lined the walls, the single fluorescent light buzzing and flickering as it came to life.

“Here we are,” the guard said, gesturing to the room. “The security archives.”

the shelves. “Thank you. We can take it from here.” Then, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out some cash and

the money, his ears

his footsteps fading quickly, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You didn’t have to embarrass him like

corners of his mouth. “Consider it a gentle reminder

*

find that footage.”

myself growing increasingly frustrated as the minutes ticked by. There were so many files, many of

hours, shoving aside another useless box filled with footage from five years ago. “We’re never

box he was rifling

sight of him. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his sinewy forearms. His hair was mussed, dark strands falling into his eyes. His jaw was set hard, determination etched

in his nightstand back home… How many nights

“Focus, Klein.”

of Edwin’s voice ripped me out of my reverie; he’d noticed how distracted I was. Blushing, I quickly muttered an apology and pulled another box off of a nearby

after what seemed like an eternity, I spotted a box labeled with the dates we needed. My heart leapt.

we needed. My heart raced as Edwin connected

he said softly as

Cycle’ gown. I watched as I carefully attached the luna moth to the bodice, my

focusing,” Edwin

in the ribs with

“Sorry, sorry…”

room-and just moments later, we saw Linda enter the frame. My fists clenched involuntarily at the sight

I saw her rip the luna moth off of my dress and smash it beneath

Edwin shook his head, clenching his jaw, and sped through the next stretch of footage-me returning from lunch, finding the mess, dealing with the aftermath. We kept sk**ing forward, and nothing else happened. I began to lose hope; maybe nothing else had happened to my

Maybe-

I

was locking up the design department late that night, or so it seemed. But then he stopped and glanced around furtively before pulling out his

*

“He must have sent those images to Mr. Black. I wonder if they held onto them all this time knowing that

the thought. It seemed ridiculous, impossible, but… Perhaps they really just hated me

then, they knew who I was-what I was. The