Page 13

With Xan, it was more like his brain never stopped moving, always turning over details, patterns, angles no one else noticed.

He spent so much time in his head that it felt like he sometimes forgot the rest of us were even there.

He was a tech genius with a sense of humor as quick as his mind, sharp and unexpected.

And, of course, an amazing athlete, though he'd never understand why people cared so much about the social side of it.

Small talk wasn't really his thing; he'd rather watch from the edge, cataloging everything like he couldn't help it.

“That’s gross. Men are gross,” Ari grumbled, wrinkling her nose.

“Hey, not all of us,” Ashton protested.

Xander lifted his dark eyes to my boyfriend. “For once, me and D-W agree on something.”

“D-W?” Ashton questioned.

Xander didn’t respond. I didn’t know what that meant either. Based on the look Ryder and Nick shared, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“She speaks the truth,” Roxxi stated as she stretched.

The motion caused her top to lift. Nick’s eyes zeroed in on her ass, which, to be fair, looked incredible in those leggings.

“Really?” I shot him a flat look.

Xander snickered, and Nick shrugged, unbothered as ever. “Like you haven’t stared.”

I had. Obviously. Best friend privileges allowed that, and Roxxi had never been shy about showing off what she had. She caught the exchange, rolling her eyes with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“You’ve got no shame, Blackwell.”

Nick grinned. “If I did, I wouldn’t make half my life choices, and where’s the fun in that?”

“I can only imagine.”

“Alright, you two can flirt later. Can we go now before we’re late, please?” Cloe cut in, hands on her hips like she was about to corral a bunch of unruly toddlers.

All five feet of her were sass and sharp wit.

Over time, she’d become the one to keep us all in line, a role that fit seamlessly with her personality.

She dressed the part, too, like she could walk straight into a courtroom or a boardroom and crush both without breaking a sweat.

Today was no exception. A sleek pair of reading glasses perched on her nose, giving her an extra air of authority.

She’d taken out her box braids the night prior and now wore her long, thick hair in a flawless bun, every strand slicked back and secured without a single flyaway.

At her urging, we moved from the quad toward the worn stone steps leading up to the bridge walkways.

Ryder naturally fell into step beside me, a little closer than necessary.

Ashton drifted back a few paces, already caught up in a conversation with Nick and Xander about some car show coming to town.

On my other side were the girls, their laughter blending with the breeze.

I looked sideways at Ryder. “No Brooke?”

“It’s her late start,” he replied, his tone unreadable.

“Oh, right.” I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder. “Well, thank you again for the drink. I needed it.”

“Am I forgiven then?”

“That depends. What’s in the bag?”

He held it up with a knowing grin, the brown paper crinkling in his grip. “A warmed chocolate chunk muffin for my best friend… once she says she forgives me.”

I tried not to smile, but I couldn’t hold it. “She was never mad at you.”

“Still not hearing what I want,” he countered, a teasing lilt dancing along the edge of his voice.

I sighed dramatically. “Rye, you are forgiven, for not needing forgiveness.”

“Mm. That’ll do.”

Cloe’s head swiveled our way. “What did he do for him to think you were mad in the first place?”

Right. I hadn’t told them yet. About the field, the creep behind Ashton’s building, or Ryder going off to do God knows what.

The urge to spill it all was strong, but with students rushing to class and faculty strolling by, now wasn’t the time.

I glanced at Ryder, waiting for him to speak, but he added nothing.

“He didn’t do anything; it was something else. After class, I’ll fill you in.”

“You know we’ve got you, whatever it is,” Arianna reassured me.

Layla nodded in agreement, and I smiled at them in thanks.

I wasn’t sure what I would do without these girls.

They were my constants who’d always had my back.

The guys did too, but this wasn’t something I needed to tell them.

Ryder made sure of that before we’d gotten off the phone.

We reached the upper bridge that stretched across campus, its stone arches rising above the winding paths below.

A web of smaller bridges branched off in different directions, leading to the various halls and buildings scattered like pieces on an academic chessboard.

This was the usual place where we split up for class.

I had Literature and Society first, a course I shared with Cloe despite our majors being different.

Roxxi was headed to her Media Influence class, one of her favorites, mostly because she’d already made herself the unofficial TA.

Arianna would veer off toward the Fine Arts wing for one of her graphic design lectures.

Ryder and Nick were bound for Business Ethics, which they both pretended to loathe, though I knew better.

Ryder thrived in any setting that required strategy and manipulation.

Nick charmed his way through everything, especially group projects, which Ryder conveniently hated.

Layla usually walked with Cade or Xander, but today she lingered closer to the rest of us. Her expression was distant. More distracted than usual. I adjusted my drink and muffin in one hand, then sidled over to nudge her lightly.

“You okay?”

She offered a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. Just got a lot on my mind.”

“Oh, I get that more than you know.”

“You know you can talk to us about anything, Lay,” Ashton chimed in, his tone easy as he caught up to us.

I saw Roxxi and Cloe exchange a glance. Arianna gave a subtle shake of her head.

A silent warning for them not to say anything.

I knew exactly what that look was about.

Roxxi had been the first to mention that Ashton was too nice to Layla.

Cloe had agreed without hesitation. Ari hadn’t said much, but her silence told me about her opinion on the matter loud and clear.

I didn’t get it. Ashton was genuinely kind.

Him being nice to a girl did not mean something was going on.

It was possible to have platonic friendships.

Weren’t we proof of that? We kept walking, and I picked up on footsteps behind us.

At first, I ignored them, thinking it was other students headed in the same direction, but then Ryder’s hand suddenly wrapped around my arm.

Before I could ask anything, he shifted our bodies, moving me in front of him with a quiet, calculated urgency that made my breath catch.

“What’s wrong?”

I turned slightly towards him and finally saw why he grabbed me.

A person had stopped just a few feet away.

They wore a dark hoodie pulled low over their face and a mask.

Not the funny or ironic kind, but blank, smooth plastic with hollow black eyeholes.

They were holding up a phone aimed directly at us. Filming? Or taking pictures?

Roxxi spun as soon as I did, locking onto the weirdo, her brows rising. “What the fuck are you doing?”

The person didn’t move.

They stood there, the phone still raised, head tilted like they were studying us until the others started to turn too.

Then they stepped back. Once. Twice, before they bolted, vanishing into a group of students on the other side of the bridge, who scattered with startled gasps as the person cut straight through them.

Ryder’s gaze met mine.

He didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. I knew him well enough to recognize what was happening behind those icy eyes. He was working the angles, flipping through every variable and comparing it against the person I’d told him about last night.

On the bright side, I now knew he hadn’t found them and committed a life-sentence worthy crime. At least not yet, he hadn’t.

“So, what was that about?” Cloe asked, still facing the direction the person had gone.

Ashton let out a breath of laughter, glancing at Nick. “Did you make this happen? Starting early on host fun?”

My brow furrowed. “Why would—?”

Then it clicked.

Ryder had just referenced it the night before.

Nick was hosting the Crowsfell Annual Fall Soirée , one of the biggest events on the university’s social calendar.

Every year, a selected host tried to outdo the last in extravagance.

The previous year had been wild, and I almost feared what our party boy would come up with to outdo it.

The soirée itself was infamous, but what just happened wasn’t part of that whole ordeal.

It was more aligned to a tradition with cult-like status, and from what little I knew, it got far more fucked-up than anyone cared to admit.

The Hunt.

I couldn’t believe I’d let it slip from my mind. It was only a matter of time before the flyers showed up and the campus buzz turned to full-on fanfare.

“Nick wouldn’t do that to us,” I said firmly.

“Never,” he echoed, clearly offended. “I had nothing to do with whatever that bullshit was. And if I did, why the fuck would I target my girls?”

“Yeah,” Ryder added, “Scaring the shit out of our friends with petty stunts isn’t exactly on the roster this year.”

A brief silence followed, but he didn’t backtrack.

“But he does have a roster?” I asked.

He grinned at me, and that was all the answer I needed. I would absolutely be grilling him later.

Layla crossed her arms, frowning. “It’s nice to know you’re not out to traumatize us, but they looked like they were recording or something. Why?”

Nick shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “You know it’s not just the soirée coming up.”

Ari looked at him. “You mean The Hunt?”

“Bingo,” Xander confirmed.