Spotting his head of shaggy dark hair, I track the way he’s leaning over the desk, tattooed arms on full show. The girl behind appears to be politely refusing him with small shakes of her head. I drop my head back to look at the night’s sky. Somewhere out there, Avery is beneath the same sky. I hope for Wyatt’s sake that he’s keeping to his word, his letter burning a hole in my pocket.
Meg’s the next target. Protect her, leave Avery’s safety to me.
It seems, much like the rest of Wyatt’s plans, the note was hastily put together. The night we returned to the frat house from Midnight Madness, it looked like an atomic bomb had gone off in both Wyatt and Avery’s rooms. In fact, if it wasn’t for the letter Garrett found on the dining table and the text I noticed on Avery’s phone, we’d have thought Fredrick took them both.
After hours of talking Huxley down from a ledge and convincing Axel it wasn’t his fault for sleeping through the entire ordeal, we came to the conclusion to trust Wyatt. He’s our leader, and we used to follow his word blindly. Now that he’s carrying our precious cargo, it’s harder for some to take his orders so easily.
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Hux mutters, not for the first time. At present, I’m not sure which ‘him’ he’s referring to, as Garrett skips down the outer steps.
“Receptionist isn’t budging on her GDPR rules. She must be into girls,” he shrugs. His conclusion spurs Hux to stride forward, and I quickly put myself in the way.
“Focus. We don’t have time for this.” I raise my hands and stare Hux down until he grunts and turns away. Garrett drops onto the curb, hugging Axel to him. I frown, worried about our fragile friend. Axel continues to blame himself; his nightmares are an every night occurrence, and he doesn’t bother hiding his wince when he pulls too hard on his ribs now. I suppose he doesn’t feel the need to put on a strong front anymore. Catching Garrett’s eye, a rare moment of worry slips through. Someone needs to do something. Without Avery to keep our spirits up, we really need a win right now.
“Gare, stay with him. Hux, let’s go.” I don’t hang around for more arguments on how we should and shouldn’t do things, but I breathe a sigh of relief when I hear footsteps following. Rounding the receptionbuilding, I find a cut-through that leads into a maze of pathways. The campus is quiet, even for this time of day.
At Waversea, students would be hustling from dorms to the library, the canteen to the gym. All the night owls who can’t rest until their minds and bodies are exhausted. At Hollowbrook, it’s eerily quiet, as if there’s a curfew that no one dares to break.
The university layout feels like a cage, with twisting alleys that are framed by huge structures that block out the moon’s light and leering windows that are too dark to see inside. Shadows hang like thick drapes, leaving us exposed in too many places. I suppress a shudder, but my eyes are flicking from one potential alcove to the next in a bid to remain on high alert. The dim lights from the lampposts do little to help.
Eventually, we resurface in a courtyard with a tall building looming in the background. It’s a tall, rectangular monolith of pale bricks and the only one with almost every light on. I’d be willing to bet that’s where the dorm rooms are. We seem to share the same thought, as Huxley's long strides quicken. We cut through overgrown hedges, pass by a cluster of bicycles haphazardly chained to a rack near the entrance, and slip inside.
So, this is where all the people are.
Students linger in small groups, some lounging on mismatched sofas near the stairs, others perched on the edges of tables, laughing softly or scrolling through their phones. A girl with bright pink hair glances up as we pass, her eyes narrowing slightly before she goes back to her conversation. Most of the faces are disinterested, but there’s a subtle shift as a pair of outsiders stroll into their midst.
The lobby is well used, with scuffed tiles and walls plastered with faded posters for campus events. Along one wall, vending machines hum in a low, almost comforting rhythm, their flickering lights casting uneven glows. Opposite them, a wide staircase curls up toward the dorms above, its banister polished in patches where countless hands have gripped it over time. A faint scent of sweat, laundry detergent, and something vaguely greasy hangs in the air, clinging to the space like an unwelcome guest. Speaking of unwelcome guests…
Beside me, Huxley shifts his weight impatiently, crossing his arms over his chest as his sharp gaze darts around the room. His jaw clenches and unclenches, and I can feel the frustration radiating off him. “So, what now?”he mutters, voice low and taut. “Are we just going to knock on every door until we find her?”
I roll my eyes and suppress a sigh, shrugging off his sour mood. “Relax,” I say, forcing a tight smile. “I’ll figure it out.” Hux snorts quietly, clearly unconvinced, but doesn’t argue further. I pull Avery’s phone from my pocket and tap it awake to pull up a photo of Meg.
A group of students lounges there, sprawled out in various states of relaxation. “Excuse me guys, sorry to interrupt.” I step up to the sofas, halting the conversations happening within the room instantly. Every set of eyes turns to me, the air thick with curiosity and mild annoyance. “Does anyone know where I can find this girl?”
“Who’s asking?” A girl with a buzzcut snaps closed a battered textbook, while another two others whisper quietly, their eyes not leaving my face.
“Just a friend. I really need to talk to her.”
A lanky guy with curly hair who is draped over one armrest squints at the screen, then leans back with a dismissive snort. “Nice phone, dude,” he says, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. A quiet laugh bubbles up from the other end of the sofa. I lower the pink device and stuff it back in my pocket. This is pointless.
Hux shifts behind me, the weight of his glare enough to make the group fidget. Before he can step in with whatever sharp comment is brewing on his tongue, one of the quieter students, a girl with glasses perched low on her nose, clears her throat. “You’re looking for Meg?” she asks, her voice soft but clear.
I turn to her, nodding quickly. “Yeah. It’s important. Do you know where she is?” The girl hesitates, glancing at her companions before speaking.
“She’ll probably be at the stadium, running lacrosse drills. She’s usually there this time of night.” I didn’t anticipate the flood of relief that hits me. A physical weight lifts from my shoulders. Meg is here; people have seen her. I couldn’t fight the niggling worry that was creeping in, but now I don’t feel as helpless. I can protect Meg, just like Avery would want me to do.
Hastily typing out the directions, I thank Glasses Girl and head out to find Garrett and Axel. They’re waiting just outside the entrance,passing the time by passing saliva. I manage to break up their lip-lock and usher them back to the main parking lot.
Now comes the hard part. Convincing Meg to pack up and leave with us. We discussed the plan on the way over, which gave us a break from arguing over who drove Wyatt’s sports Nissan. I won in the end, too worried that Huxley would total the car in revenge for Wyatt stealing his SUV. We’ve already lost precious time waiting for a replacement key to arrive, so Meg is our only priority right now. First we ensure she’s under our protection, then Hux can do whatever he likes with Wyatt’s car.
Following the directions to a tee, we roll up to the stadium and stride inside, finding the place conveniently unlocked. Garrett doesn’t miss a beat, planting himself at the front of our small group.
“Axel, hang back. You’re not in any fit state for this,” he states. Axel chuckles, devoid of all humor, and steps into Garrett’s side.
“Like fuck. I’m not weak,” he flashes a heated glare out of the corner of his eye. Garrett’s tensed jaw loosens, his head whipping aside.
“I know that, but you’re injured. I promised to not let anything happen to you again.” Hux grunts, as if he doesn’t really believe Garrett’s sentiment, but it goes ignored. Turning into Axel’s body, Gare reaches up to clasp the back of his lover’s neck. “I can’t go into this if I’m worrying about you. Be our lookout, but the first sign of trouble, I want you to get in that damn car and floor it out of here. Promise me.” Pressing their foreheads together, Axel sighs, tightening his lips.
“No.”
