“—multiple units responding to structure fire, Greek Row?—”
“—OCK house fully engulfed, requesting additional support?—”
“—reports of gunshots heard on campus, unable to confirm location?—”
“—evacuating surrounding buildings as precaution?—”
The fire worked. Campus security is stretched thin, emergency services occupied. Everything went according to plan.
So why aren’t they back yet?
“The plan was thirty minutes. It’s been forty-seven.”
Rook checks his own phone. “Plans change, especially in combat situations. CJ hasn’t called an extraction abort. That means they’re still operational.”
“Or it means they’re dead and CJ doesn’t know yet.”
“Mara—”
“Don’t. Don’t tell me not to think like that. The three men I love just walked into an underground chamber to commit murder. Thinking the worst isn’t pessimism, it’s realism.”
Rook’s quiet for a moment. “You really love all three of them?”
“Yes.”
“Equally?”
“Differently … but yes.” I look at him, challenging him to judge me. “Does that bother you?”
“Nah. I’ve seen weirder relationship configurations at frat parties. Just making conversation—keeping you distracted.”
“I appreciate the effort. It’s not working.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
The scanner crackles again.
“—fire marshal on scene, investigating origin?—”
“—witnesses report seeing three individuals fleeing east on foot?—”
My heart stops. “East? We’re west of campus.”
Rook’s response comes immediately, calm and certain. “Misdirection. Probably CJ feeding false intel. Calm down.”
But my hands are shaking. I grip the steering wheel to steady them.
Fifty-two minutes.
I need noise, something other than the spiraling thoughts telling me they’re not coming back, that I’m going to spend the rest of my life wondering how they died—if they thought of me in their last moments.
“Talk to me. About anything. I need … I need noise. Something other than my own thoughts.”
Rook considers, then grins. “Okay. Truth or dare?”
“Seriously?”
“Dead serious. Come on. Truth or dare?”
