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After We Collided (After, #2) by Anna Todd Read Online (FREE)

My head jerks and I blink rapidly to restore my vision. I’m stronger than him, but it seems he’s a better fighter than he had led me to believe.

But there’s no way in hell I’m letting him get the best of me.

“I already fucked her, anyway,” he chokes as I grab hold of his hair and slam his head into the floor. At this point I don’t give a fuck if I kill him or not.

“No, you didn’t!” I scream.

“Yes, I did, she was . . . nice and t-tight, too.” His voice is strangled and choppy, spitting out its venom with my hands still on his face.

My fist snaps his head to the side and he half screams from the pain, and for a brief moment I consider gripping his broken nose between my fingers to cause him even more. His feet kick frantically under me to try to lift my body from his. Images of Zed touching Tessa are fueling me, pushing me further than I’ve ever been pushed before.

His hands grip my arms, trying to lift my body from his. “You will never fucking touch her again,” I say and bring a hand to his throat. “If you think you’re going to take her from me, you’re fucking wrong.”

I tighten my grip around his neck. His bloody face is turning red and he tries to speak, but I only hear broken gasps for air.

“What the hell is going on in here?” a male voice shouts behind me.

When I turn my head around to see who the voice belongs to, Zed attempts to wrap his hands around my neck. Not fucking happening. Another punch to his cheek is all it takes for his arms to drop to the floor next to his sides.

A hand wraps around my arm, and I shove it off. “Call campus security!” the voice says, and I hurry to climb off of Zed.

Fuck. “No, don’t,” I say and stumble to my feet.

“What’s going on? Get out of here! Go wait in the other room!” the middle-aged man yells, but I don’t move. I assume he’s a professor. Fuck.

“He came in here and attacked me,” Zed says, then starts to cry. He literally starts to cry.

His hand is covering his swollen and crooked nose as he stands to his feet. His face is bloody, his lab coat is splattered with red, and his smug smile has evaporated.

With an air of authority, the man points at me and commands, “Stand against the wall until the police arrive! I mean it, don’t move an inch!”

Fuck, the campus police are coming. I’m so fucking screwed. Why the fuck did I come here in the first place? I promised to stay away from him if she would.

Now that I’ve broken another one of my promises, will she break hers?


chapter one hundred and nineteen


When my pen presses to the paper, I have every intention of writing about my grandmother and how she dedicated her life to Christianity, but somehow Hardin’s name appears in black ink.