Page 39

SANJANA

The professor was speaking about how cultural systems masked control under the guise of tradition, and it hit a little too close to home.

I took a few notes, my handwriting losing consistency the longer I stared at the page.

Words like submission , fear-based compliance , and generational sacrifice jumped out at me. I needed to stop freaking myself out.

I placed my pencil down, shifting in my chair to get more comfortable.

It was midafternoon now, and I was more convinced than ever that the guys knew we’d been Marked.

Yet, there were still crickets on the topic.

If they were waiting for us to admit it first, Roxxi would make sure they waited until the death of the universe.

I wanted to know if they were part of it too, but I refused to be the first to get this conversation rolling.

Though the more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed.

I wouldn’t just need to stomach the Hunt, then.

I’d have to pray the boys we trusted learned the damn rules and tried to abide by them.

I could vividly remember the absolute chaos those five and a few of their more unhinged friends I barely knew caused back in high school.

They always got away with it. Their surnames and status bought freedom, and nearly half the town adored them.

I could see them being thrilled to join The Hunt.

They’d turn the entire tradition on its head with the same twisted confidence they always carried.

I couldn’t imagine all those Huntsmen who paid for the privilege just bowing to them, though.

This had all the makings of blood and lacquer warfare.

Because of that, I was honestly glad I didn’t know who had been behind the wheel of that black sedan yesterday.

Since no cars had gone up in flames near campus, I could only assume that particular Huntsman was keeping a low profile.

They were still a complete dick for coming at me and Layla with a whole ass car.

The classroom door creaked open, and half the heads in the room turned to look, including mine.

A delivery guy stepped inside wearing a plain blue polo, holding a round glass vase filled with flowers.

At the front of the room, Professor Prescott paused her speech, one brow lifting with polite curiosity.

“I’m looking for Sanjana Marino?”

Cue every pair of eyes swinging my way.

My face went warm. I cleared my throat and raised my hand, trying not to shrink into my seat. “That’s me.”

The guy smiled and walked over to where I was sitting, careful with the vase. I stood to take it, murmured a quick thanks, and sat back down like it was no big deal.

“Have a good one,” he called over his shoulder, already out the door.

The flowers were stunning. Soft pink lilies nestled between ivory and blue roses, trailing pale greenery. A few students around me whispered and side-eyed, their curiosity practically humming. I ignored them, reaching for the attached card, my heart already kicking into a faster rhythm.

Hope this brightens your day, Sassy.

It would’ve taken some drastic measures for me to hold my smile back.

Kellan leaned over, “Voss?” There was amusement in his voice, like he didn’t even need confirmation.

I nodded, my cheeks still flushed.

The fact that Ashton’s name didn’t come up as a possibility said more than I was ready to unpack. Especially since our texts were far and few since the night before. Was I a horrible person for not caring as much as I probably should’ve?

Miss Prescott chuckled at the interruption. “Ah, young love,” she mused, pushing her glasses up and shaking her head of dark hair.

She wasn’t old enough to be speaking about age.

Not to mention, she was effortlessly beautiful, one of the only professors at Crowsfell who could deliver a lecture about cultural morality while looking like she belonged on the cover of Architectural Digest. Half the campus took her class for the view.

The rest stayed for her brutal honesty and the fact that she graded like she’d seen the world fall apart and was desperate to make us smarter than whoever had broken it.

As the class settled back into the flow of her lecture, I slid my phone halfway out of my bag and typed a quick message.

These are beautiful, but why?

The reply came before I could even lock the screen.

Rye ????

Did they make you smile?

Of course.

Rye ????

That’s why.

I bit my lip, the smile in question still tugging stubbornly at my mouth. He always did this, found ways to show up for me without making it a giant spectacle where he stole the spotlight.

I looked at the flowers again, at the card tucked inside, and wondered, not for the first time, how I was supposed to keep pretending that what we had was just friendship. It was getting harder to keep repeating the same lie, especially to myself.

The rest of the class passed in a blur, my focus split between Miss Prescott’s lecture and the vase of flowers.

Every time I leaned forward, the scent of lilies and roses drifted up.

When the professor finally dismissed us, I pulled up the group chat with the girls to check where we were all meeting, then carefully packed my things and cradled the vase in my arms like it was something sacred.

Kellan’s tall form fell into step beside me as we moved through the now-crowded halls, students pouring out of lecture rooms in waves.

A few people glanced at the flowers. One girl I didn’t recognize did a double-take.

“Someone’s got a secret admirer,” a passing guy teased with a smirk.

We rounded a corner, and I adjusted the vase in my arms, careful not to crush a petal.

“Why haven’t you and Ryder gotten together yet?” Kellan asked bluntly.

I nearly tripped over my own feet. “What?”

“I’ve been watching you two for over a year now. That man’s down bad for you, Sanj.”

I suppressed a sigh. Ryder and I were so obvious it was almost embarrassing to keep up the charade.

“He has a girlfriend,” I said flatly, my go-to defense that was rapidly losing traction.

The look Kellan shot at me made it clear he wasn’t buying a word of it. I’m sure others wouldn’t either.

Just like I knew, this sweet little gesture wouldn’t stay quiet.

At Crowsfell, secrets had expiration dates, and this one came with a time stamp and social proof.

If someone hadn’t already snapped a pic or whipped their phone out to record, it was only a matter of time.

What was I supposed to say to his girlfriend?

“Sorry, your boyfriend sent me flowers in front of an entire lecture hall. I didn’t mean to make you collateral in our twisted, never-ending game of will-they-won’t-they and my slowly crumbling denial.”

Ashton, too. He’d have an opinion. It didn’t matter that Ryder hadn’t technically done anything wrong.

When did feelings ever play by rules or reason?

As we rounded the corner into the main lobby, the girls came into view, clustered near the trophy wall, minus Layla.

She texted earlier with a vague apology and a request to talk after practice, and I agreed.

Roxxi would never use her position as cheer captain against her, but that had nothing to do with her potentially throat-punching the poor girl on sight, and I preferred dealing with one fire at a time.

I smiled as I approached them, the polished gold plaques where they stood catching in the light. I knew where all my favorites were, hanging a few rows down from their parents’, legacy carved in brass.

Ryder Voss. Cade Voss. Damon Carter.

Aiden Carter. Nick Blackwell. Xander Aether.

Roxxi’s eyes lit up the second she saw me. “Well, well. Someone’s extra special today,” she teased, nodding at the flowers in my arms.

I grinned, heat creeping up my neck. “It’s just flowers.”

Ari laughed softly. “That smile says otherwise. Ryder did good.”

“How do you know they weren’t from Ashton?”

Kellan shook his head. “Same way I did.”

Roxxi waved my question off altogether with a flutter of her red, polished nails. “Please. Who else treats you like the queen you are? Besides us, obviously.”

Ari sighed. “He’s so in love with you.”

“Someone’s been reading too many romance novels.”

Cloe’s voice was more certain. “You love him too.”

I looked down at the vase, hugging it closer. “Of course, I love him, but—.”

“Every time you lie, your tits shrink,” Roxxi cut in.

I half-laughed, half-snorted. “Where did you hear that?”

“And,” she went on, all faux-serious, “you love him like a best friend, sure, but you also stare at him like he hung the goddamn moon, and I know you fantasize about him in those grey sweats he wore last week.”

“Roxxi!”

“Oh, you mean the ones that had her ready to demand he take his ass home and change?” Cloe grinned. “We all saw the moment your brain emptied of everything but print.”

“I was protecting his dignity.”

“Uh-huh,” Roxxi smirked. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. We all saw that mega boa.”

“Shut up.” I laughed.

Kellan made a noise in his throat and immediately began to retreat. “Okay, that’s my cue to exit this conversation.”

“Will you be okay on your own?”

He chuckled. “Sanj, what did I tell you? They’re not taking us out like that. Besides, The Hunt doesn’t start for a few days, and I’m already Marked. They can’t double-up. Sophie and her brother are meeting me at the quad anyway, so I’m good.”

“Alright,” I relented, gently squeezing his arm. “Let me know if anything weird happens.”

“Same to you. I’ll see ya’ll at practice later. My bad about the other day, Cloe.” He waved and disappeared through the East exit doors.

Cloe’s lips pursed for a moment. “Sophie?”

I gave her a tired smile. “Yup… that’ll be a fun conversation.”

She shut her eyes for a second and sighed. “I told Rook to leave it alone.”

“Something happened then? Is that why he just apologized?”

“I knew it,” Roxxi quipped.