"Just us." I step inside, closing the door. "Came straight back."
Gray nods, already moving toward the stairs. "My room. Now. We need to talk, all of us."
"All of us?"
"The whole team." His voice leaves no room for debate. "This isn't just about Reese anymore. This involves everyone."
I follow him upstairs, mind racing. He's right. The photo shows our house, our space. Someone's been watching all of us.
Gray pauses outside his door, hand on the knob. For the first time since I've known him, he looks uncertain.
"You good with this?" he asks quietly. "Coming in? With her? It’s strong in there."
The question catches me off guard. Gray Lockwood, checking if I'm comfortable. Remembering my history without making me spell it out.
"Yeah." I nod, surprised by how true it is. "I'm good."
He searches my face for a second, then nods. "Good. Because we need all hands on deck for this one."
He opens the door, revealing Reese sitting up in his bed, sheet pulled to her chest, dark hair falling around her shoulders. Her scent hits me hard—honey and sunshine now layered with Gray's earth and water, but still distinctly her. My body reacts automatically, but without the panic I'd expected. No flashbacks of Hamilton Hills. No overwhelming fight-or-flight response.
Her eyes widen when she sees me. "Jackson?"
"I brought your clothes," I say, holding up my backpack. "And something you need to see."
Gray crosses to sit beside her on the bed, passing her his phone with the photos. She takes it, eyebrows drawing together as she scrolls through the images.
Her face goes pale, then flushes with anger. "When was this taken?"
"Last night. The timestamp says 11:47 PM," I explain, staying near the doorway but not backing away. "Someone was watching the house. Watching both of you."
Reese stares at the photo, fingers trembling slightly. But when she looks up, her expression isn't fear. It's fury.
"This is escalating," she says, voice steady despite the anger burning in her eyes. "First my room gets trashed, now this.Whoever's doing this isn't just watching anymore. They're threatening."
"The message is ambiguous," Gray points out. "Could be about either of us."
"That's the point." Reese swings her legs out of bed, sheet still wrapped around her. "Keep us guessing. Make us paranoid. Classic intimidation tactics."
She moves to the window, peering through the blinds at the campus below. "The photo angle suggests they were across the street, maybe in the parking area by the library. Good vantage point, easy escape routes."
Gray and I exchange glances. Even in crisis mode, she's thinking strategically.
"Could be Kinsley," Gray says.
"Could be," Reese agrees, still scanning outside. "But the dead animal escalation doesn't fit her pattern. Kinsley's more about social destruction, reputation damage. This is psychological warfare."
She turns back to us, jaw set with determination. "We need to assume multiple threats until we know otherwise. Someone obsessed with me, someone obsessed with you, or both working together."
"I'm calling an emergency team meeting," Gray says, already reaching for his phone.
"Good." Reese nods, then looks directly at me. "Jackson, did you see anyone suspicious in the hallway? There aren’t any cameras in that hallway, but did you see anything that could indicate when they left this?"
The question catches me off guard, not because she's asking, but because she's taking charge of the investigation instead of just being protected.
"Hallway was empty. Nothing helpful that I saw," I report.
"Then we work with what we have." She moves toward the bathroom, pausing to meet both our eyes. "This isn't just about me anymore. They photographed your house, which puts everyone at risk."
