"Gray's getting laid right now. He's not waiting for anything," Eli says, hint of a smile in his voice. "But sure, use him as the excuse."
I walk out without responding, but not before Eli catches the reluctant grin tugging at my mouth.
The morning air hits my face as I cross campus, still quiet except for a few early risers heading to the library or gym. Campus feels different at this hour. Almost peaceful without the usual chaos of students rushing between classes.
Westover Hall stands ahead, all pristine brick and ivy. Rich kid housing, complete with actual furniture instead of the plastic crap in regular dorms. Another reminder that Reese comes from the same world as Gray, old money and expectations. Not the typical scholarship athlete background most of us share.
I take the stairs to the third floor, following Gray's directions. The hallway's empty, everyone either sleeping in or already gone. Room 312 sits at the end, a single. Even from here, I catch traces of Reese's controlled scent, though it's nothing like the heated intensity currently filling the team house.
Then I see it.
A small cardboard box sits beside her door, innocuous enough that I almost miss it. But the smell hits me as I get closer—the metallic tang of blood mixed with decay. Something dead.
"What the fuck," I mutter, kneeling beside the box. A note is taped to the top, white paper against brown cardboard. Block letters in black ink:
YOU'RE MINE AND I WON'T LET ANYONE ELSE TOUCH YOU.
Below the text, a photo. Gray and Reese outside our team house, her pressed against him as they kiss. The timestamp in the corner reads 11:47 PM. Just hours ago. Someone was watching them, watching our house.
I carefully lift the box lid, immediately regretting it. There’s a dead squirrel inside, its small body twisted at an unnatural angle. Fresh enough that it couldn't have been dead long. The fur is matted with blood with what looks like a broken neck.
My stomach turns, but my mind races. This isn't random campus pranks or sorority drama. This is someone seriously unhinged.
I photograph the note and box with my phone, then look around the empty hallway as I consider taking the box to the trash chute. Whoever left this could still be watching. Better to get in and out quickly. The potted plant sits beside her door as described. I find the key, unlock her room, and slip inside, shutting the door behind me.
Reese's scent hits me immediately, stronger now that I'm inside, but not unbearably so. Her room is organized with almost military precision. Bed made tight enough to bounce a quarter.Books arranged by height on the desk. Clothes hung with exactly the same spacing between hangers.
Girl has control issues that make Gray look positively chill by comparison.
I spot the SRU Rowing hoodie on her desk chair, definitely one of ours, probably Bo's based on the size. Something about seeing our team gear in her personal space feels weirdly intimate.
The dresser drawers yield jeans and a navy t-shirt, both folded like she used a ruler to measure the creases. I grab socks from another drawer, then pause. Shit. Underwear. She'll need that too, but digging through a woman's underwear drawer feels somewhere between creepy and criminal.
I open the drawer with two fingers like it might bite me, keeping my eyes half-averted while grabbing something basic. The less I look, the less I feel like a perv, though the whole situation is way past awkward.
As I turn to leave, the note burns through my mind.You're mine.But who's the target? The photo shows both of them, but the possessive language could apply to either Gray or Reese. Or both.
My phone buzzes with a text from Gray:Everything ok? Been a while.
I send him the photos without comment. His response is instant:
Where did you find this?
Her door. Just now. There's more.
A pause, then:Get back here. Now. Don't touch anything else.
I stuff Reese's clothes into my backpack and leave, making sure to lock her door. The box sits where I found it, undisturbed. Iconsider taking it but decide to leave the evidence for campus security if this escalates.
The walk back to the team house takes about ten minutes, but feels longer with those images burning in my mind. I keep my head on a swivel, cataloging faces, looking for anyone paying too much attention. Campus is waking up now, more students heading to early classes, but nobody stands out as suspicious.
When I reach the house, Gray's already at the door waiting, dressed in gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. His face is stone, but his scent gives him away, cedar and storm clouds with that acidic edge of Alpha anger.
"Show me everything." He holds out his hand, voice clipped.
I pull out my phone, showing him the photos I took. He studies them, jaw working as he takes in the details.
"Who else knows about this?" he asks.
