Chapter 127 The Research Paper
The metal muzzle felt icy against the hot skin of Xiomara’s forehead.
Xiomara’s eyes stretched wide with pure terror. Her breathing was short and ragged, her chest heaving as she tried to pull in air. She was flat on her knees, her palms pressed hard against the cold floorboards as if trying to push herself straight through the ground.
She opened her mouth, and a raw scream tore out of her throat. It was high, sharp, and totally desperate, cutting straight through the quiet room.
"Please! Please don’t do this!"
Professor Sterling’s face flushed a deep, angry red. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and his hands trembled at his sides.
"Wesley!" the professor barked out, his voice cracking with panic. "Stop her right now! If you let that girl lay another finger on my student, I will come after you with everything I have. I swear it! I will ruin your name. I will tear down everything you’ve built!"
Wesley barely moved. He just raised a single eyebrow, looking completely unbothered by the threat.
"You’ll fight me?" Wesley asked, his tone almost amused.
"I will!" Sterling snapped back.
Wesley let out a short laugh. "Sterling, you couldn’t fight your way out of a wet paper bag."
The professor’s face went from red to purple, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. But Veyra didn’t pay any attention to him. She didn’t lower the heavy steel in her hand even a fraction of an inch.
Veyra leaned in a bit more, pressing the heavy barrel harder against Xiomara’s trembling skin.
A small, pathetic whimper escaped Xiomara’s throat.
"I told you once before," Veyra said, her voice dropping low and quiet. "You can say whatever stupid things you want about me. I don’t care. But you will never, ever talk trash about my husband."
Xiomara nodded frantically, tears spilling over her eyelids and trailing down her flushed cheeks. "I won’t! I swear I won’t! I’ll never say a word about him ever again!"
Veyra looked down at her, her eyes completely calm, almost empty of emotion.
"Say it again," Veyra said softly.
Xiomara blinked through her tears. "What?"
"Say it again," Veyra repeated, her hand steady on the grip. "The nasty things you said about him a minute ago. Say them right now. I want to hear them again."
Xiomara’s face went dead pale, all the color draining right out of her lips. "I can’t..."
"Say them."
Xiomara swallowed hard, her voice coming out as a shaky, barely audible whisper. "He’s just a hired hand... A shadow... He follows Wesley around everywhere like a loyal dog."
Veyra’s grip tightened around the handle.
Before anyone could react, she swung her hand sideways and brought the heavy metal barrel down hard. It cracked loudly against the side of Xiomara’s head.
Xiomara screamed out in pain, her hand flying up to cover the injury. Blood started to seep through her fingers, and her eyes welled up with fresh tears.
"That’s for every single time you decided to open your mouth," Veyra growled.
Xiomara’s entire body was shaking now, curled up tight on the floor.
"I’m so sorry!" she sobbed, weeping into the floor. "I’m sorry! Please, just don’t hit me again!"
Veyra stood over her for a second, watching the girl writhe on the ground.
Then, slowly, she lowered the weapon.
She took a step backward, letting out a soft sigh. When she spoke next, her tone was suddenly light, almost bright and cheerful.
"Relax, I’m just joking," Veyra said with a faint smile. "I was only playing around with her."
Xiomara stared up at her from the floor, her eyes wide, her whole face a smeared mess of wet tears, dark mascara, and utter confusion.
Professor Sterling stood frozen, his lower jaw dropping open.
"You... you were joking?" Sterling choked out.
Veyra casually shrugged one shoulder. "I just wanted to see how tough she really was. Turns out she isn’t."
"Normal people don’t play around with loaded guns!" Sterling shouted, his hands shaking violently as he pointed at her.
"People do a lot of strange things," Veyra replied calmly. She neatly tucked the gun right back into the waistband of her pants. "She’ll be fine. She just got a little jumpy."
Sterling’s hands clutched into tight fists. His eyes burned with hatred, and his voice turned icy cold.
"This isn’t over, young lady," he spat out.
He leaned down, grabbed Xiomara roughly by the upper arm, and hauled her up to her feet.
Xiomara wobbled on her feet, almost losing her balance. Her hand stayed firmly clamped over the side of her head, fresh blood running between her fingernails.
"Let’s get out of here," Sterling said, pulling her toward the exit.
Xiomara stumbled awkwardly toward the front door, her feet dragging against the floorboards.
Just as she reached the wooden threshold, she stopped moving.
She turned around slowly.
Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen, her cheeks streaked with salty tears, and her bottom lip was split and bleeding.
She stared directly at Veyra, all the fear from a moment ago suddenly replaced by pure, ugly rage.
"The minute I walk out that door," Xiomara said, her voice trembling with intense anger, "I am going to make you pay for this. Ten times over. For every single slap, for every insult, and for every second of embarrassment you made me feel today."
Veyra stood still, saying absolutely nothing. She just watched her.
Xiomara’s voice cracked, but she pushed through it. "You really think you’ve won something here? You haven’t won anything. This whole thing is just getting started."
Then, her fiery gaze shifted away from Veyra and landed straight on Dorian.
"And as for you," she spat out, her tone dropping into dirty disgust. "You’re nothing but a dog. A dumb guard dog. You just follow Wesley around everywhere like a trained little pet. You are absolutely nothing without him."
Dorian stood off to the side, his expression completely blank, like he hadn’t even heard a word she said.
Xiomara let out a cold, bitter laugh, a ugly smile creeping onto her split lips.
Without another word, she turned around and limped out the door into the hallway.
"Professor Sterling," Veyra called out, her voice slicing through the heavy air of the hallway.
The old professor froze mid-step. He slowly turned his head back around to face her.
His expression was dark and miserable. "What do you want from us now?"
Veyra didn’t answer right away. She walked toward him, her footsteps slow, steady, and deliberate on the floorboards. She stopped just a few feet away from where he stood.
"Do you happen to remember that research paper you published about ten years ago?" she asked, her eyes locked onto his. "The one about SP-117?"
Sterling blinked hard. The harsh look on his face suddenly faltered, replaced by total surprise.
"SP-117?" he repeated carefully and his face drained of all color, going as pale as a bedsheet. "How on earth do you know anything about that paper?"
From behind them, Wesley leaned forward against the edge of his desk, a look of genuine interest crossing his face.
"Wait a minute," Wesley chimed in, his tone sharp with curiosity. "What exactly is SP-117?”