As we approach the exit, movement catches my eye. Kyle Jorgenson stands near the lockers, his gray eyes tracking our progress. When our gazes meet, a small satisfied smile plays at the corners of his mouth. He doesn't look away, doesn't pretend he's not watching. Just stands there with that knowing smile, like he's won some kind of victory.
Then he turns and disappears around the corner, leaving me with the chilling certainty that this is far from over.
41
BLAKE
I watch Mia walk toward the parking lot, her shoulders hunched like she's trying to make herself smaller, invisible. Security flanks her on both sides like she's some kind of criminal instead of a victim. The injustice of it burns in my gut like acid.
Jack stands beside me at the main entrance, his jaw so tight I'm surprised his teeth don't crack. Noah hovers on my other side, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his green eyes tracking Mia's progress with barely concealed fury.
"This is bullshit," I mutter, watching her fumble with her car keys. Her hands are shaking so badly she drops them twice before managing to unlock the door.
"Complete bullshit," Jack agrees, his voice carrying that dangerous edge that means he's about two seconds from losing his carefully maintained control.
That's when I see him.
Kyle Jorgenson stands near the student parking lot, partially hidden behind a concrete pillar. His gray eyes track Mia'smovements with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. He's not just watching her. He's studying her. Memorizing every detail of her humiliation like he's savoring it.
The look on his face stops me cold. It's possessive. Triumphant. Like he's won some kind of victory he's been planning for months.
Something clicks in my mind like a puzzle piece finally finding its place.
"Jack." I grab his arm, my fingers digging into his suit jacket. "Look at Kyle Jorgenson. By the pillar."
Jack's gaze follows my direction and I feel him go rigid beside me. Noah leans forward, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses.
Kyle doesn't even try to hide his staring. He just stands there with that satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth, watching Mia climb into her car. When she finally pulls out of the parking lot, he turns and walks back toward the building.
Our eyes meet for a split second as he passes, and the cold calculation in his expression makes my blood pressure spike dangerously.
"My house," I say quietly. "Tonight. All of us. We need to talk about this."
Jack nods, already pulling out his phone. "I'll tell Mia."
"I'll arrange for a babysitter," Noah adds, his voice tight. "The kids don't need to see her like this."
The rest of the day drags like I'm running through mud. I go through the motions of coaching practice, running drills and calling plays, but my mind is elsewhere. Every time I close myeyes, I see Kyle's face. That satisfied smile. The possessive way he watched Mia leave.
By the time seven o'clock rolls around, I'm wound so tight I feel like I might snap.
Mia arrives first, her blue eyes red-rimmed from crying. She's changed into jeans that hug her curves and a simple sweater that slips off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin I want to kiss. Even devastated, she's beautiful. Even broken, she makes my heart race.
I pull her into my arms the moment she's through the door, holding her tight against my chest. She feels small and fragile, nothing like the strong woman I know she is.
"I've got you," I murmur against her hair. "We've all got you."
Jack arrives moments later, still in his suit but with his tie loosened and the top button of his shirt undone. The sight of his muscular chest visible through the gap makes heat pool low in my belly despite the seriousness of the situation. Noah follows close behind, his lean frame tense with barely controlled anger.
We settle in my living room. Mia curls into the corner of the couch, her legs tucked beneath her. Jack sits beside her, close enough that their thighs touch. Noah takes the armchair while I remain standing, too wired to sit.
"Kyle Jorgenson," I say without preamble. "I think he's behind everything."
Mia's head snaps up. "What?"
"The way he was watching you today. It wasn't just curiosity or teenage interest. It was possessive. Like he owned you." I startpacing, my coaching instincts kicking in as I work through the play. "Think about it. The mysterious photograph left in your apartment. The threatening notes on our windshields. The photo sent to Noah through your bedroom window. And now the vandalized classroom."
"Kyle has been in my English class since the beginning," Mia says slowly, her voice gaining strength as she processes. "He'd have access to the building. He knows my schedule."
