There are footsteps at my back and my heart leaps to my chest as I spin around, my arms extended out, ready to defend myself.
Ready to run.
I’m not an athlete, but I lift heavy weights. Surely, I could fight if I needed to. I could?—
Fuck.
Not them.
The two guys who intimidated Jackson back to his truck.
Who might have… killed him?
No. No way.
How?
I mean, someone stabbed him, didn’t they? Someonemeantto murder him. And it’s either me, or them, seeing as we’re the only people out here.
And it definitely wasn’t me.
I take a step back and nearly trip. Before I can fall onto Jackson—hisbody—the dark-haired guy reaches out quick, his fingers locking around my wrist like they were earlier when I collided with him.
He’s staring at me.
The blond one is looking at the body, the sharpness of his nose turned up into what looks like a sneer. His eyes are narrowed, and he’s right here, standing right at Jackson’s feet, and he’s perfectly still.
“Did you do it?” the dark-haired guy asks me.
I dart my eyes to him, not bothering to shrug him off.
Logically, he couldn’t have killed Jackson, right? Besides, I don’t think I can stand on my own. It feels like enough blood isn’t going to my brain. The campus spins a little, the giant arena at my side seems foreboding, like a castle, like one of those villainous places in the fantasy books I loved to read before psychology took over.
The dark-haired guy yanks me closer.
My hands come to his chest, and this time, I grip the soft cotton of his red hoodie.
He bands an arm around my spine, tugging me close as he stares down at me.
Then there’s a voice at my back. Low, cold. Close to my ear.
“Did you kill him,Neve?”
For a second, my knees threaten to give out. How does he know my name?
But Jackson said it at some point, didn’t he?
Fuck.
What if they did do it, though? What if Jackson owed them money and that’s how they’re taking payment or?—
Leather against the back of my neck scatters my thoughts.
The blond guy’s fingers, I realize, gripping my bones.
My eyes widen and I shoot my gaze up to the one in front of me.
“I didn’t do it.” The words come out in a rush. “Did you?” I almost laugh. I feel hysterical. Out of control. Everything is vibrating under my skin and?—
