"Maybe he can't," I said quietly. "Maybe he's trapped too."
"Or maybe he's exactly where he wants to be, and you're seeing what you want to see because he's good-looking and pays attention to you."
The words stung because there was truth in them. I was attracted to Adrian. From the moment he'd stepped out of that car, something in me had responded to him. But was it real attraction, or was I being manipulated?
"I have to go," I said, standing. "I need to get ready for my classes."
Kai stood too. "Emma, wait. I'm sorry. That was out of line. How you feel about Adrian, or anyone, is your business. I just…" He sighed. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. By him, by his family, by any of this."
"Maybe it's too late for that," I said. "Maybe I've been hurt since the moment Sarah died, and I'm just now starting to fight back."
I left him there, sitting alone with his empty coffee cups and his righteous anger.
As I walked across campus toward my dorm, I checked the burner phone. One message from Rachel: "Did you watch it? Do you believe me now?"
I typed back: "Yes. What's the plan?"
"Get close to both of them. Find out what they know. And whatever you do, don't let them find out about the SD card. It's the only leverage we have."
"What if one of them is innocent?"
"Then they'll forgive you when this is over. But Emma assume everyone is guilty until proven otherwise. It's the only way to stay alive."
I looked up at the Gothic buildings of Riverside University, at the privileged students hurrying to their classes, at the beautiful facade hiding so many ugly secrets.
Sarah had died trying to expose the truth.
Rachel was risking her life to finish what Sarah started. And I was caught in the middle, with two men who both wanted something from me, both hiding their own agendas.
My phone buzzed one more time. Adrian: "I'm outside your dorm. I brought you breakfast since you missed our date. Can I come up? Or are you going to keep running from me?"
I looked down from my window and saw him leaning against his Mercedes, holding two coffee cups and a pastry bag, looking up at my window like he knew exactly where I was.
He smiled when our eyes met. That devastating smile that made my stomach flip.
The most dangerous predators are the ones who make you feel safe.
I texted back: "Give me five minutes."
Time to see just how dangerous Adrian Blake really was.
I looked at myself in the mirror, suddenly hyperaware of how I must appear. I'd been up all night, my hair was a mess, I was wearing yesterday's clothes, and I probably had dark circles under my eyes that rivaled Sarah's in that video.
But there was no time to shower and change. Adrian was waiting.
I splashed water on my face, ran a brush through my hair, and changed into fresh jeans and a simple black sweater. Good enough. This wasn't a date. This was… reconnaissance. Information gathering.
Playing the game Rachel told me to play.
So why did my hands shake as I applied a thin layer of lip gloss?
I grabbed both phones and headed downstairs. Through the glass doors, I could see Adrian leaning against his car, scrolling through his phone. He'd dressed down today dark jeans, a grey henley that showed off his lean frame, leather jacket. He looked less like a trust fund heir and more like someone who could blend into any crowd.
Except he couldn't. Not really. There was something about Adrian Blake that commanded attention the way he held himself, the sharp intelligence in his eyes, the careful control in every movement.
He looked up as I approached, and his smile was genuine relief. "For a minute there, I thought you were going to ghost me again."
"Again? This would be the first time."
"You didn't show for breakfast this morning." He held out one of the coffee cups. "Caramel latte, extra shot, no whip. Still hot."
I took it, inhaling the familiar scent. Perfect. "How did you know my coffee order? We've never had coffee together."
"I'm observant." He held up the pastry bag. "Also got you a chocolate croissant. You looked at them longingly in the dining hall yesterday but didn't take one. I'm guessing you're either watching your weight which would be ridiculous or you're on a tight budget and croissants feel like an unnecessary luxury."
Heat crept up my neck. He'd been watching me that closely? "That's either very attentive or very creepy."
"I prefer 'attentive,' but I'll accept 'creepy' if it means you'll let me buy you pastries." He gestured toward the building. "Can we talk inside? Or are you going to make me stand out here like a delivery service?"
I hesitated. Letting him into my room felt dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with murder conspiracies. But refusing would show my hand, reveal that I was afraid of him. Or afraid of myself around him.
"Fine. But my roommate hasn't moved in yet, so"
"So you're worried about propriety? Emma, I'm not here to seduce you." His eyes met mine, intense and unreadable. "Though I won't pretend the thought hasn't crossed my mind."
My breath caught. The directness was disarming. Most guys played games, hinted, tested boundaries. Adrian just… said it. Owned it.
"Five minutes," I said. "Then we both have classes."
My dorm room looked even smaller with Adrian in it. He was too large, too present, taking up space in a way that had nothing to do with physical size. I sat at my desk chair, putting distance between us, while he settled on my bed like he belonged there.
"So," he said, taking a sip of his own coffee. "Want to tell me where you really were last night?"
"Want to tell me why you're tracking my movements?"
"Touché." He set down his cup. "I wasn't tracking you. I was worried. You seemed upset after class, and then you went radio silent. Given what I know about my family's reputation, I thought…" He ran his hand through his dark hair. "I thought maybe someone had warned you off. Threatened you, even."
"Why would anyone threaten me?"
"Because you're close to me now. Partner in class, sitting with me at meals, exchanging texts. And my family doesn't like it when I form connections with people they haven't vetted." His expression darkened. "It's happened before. People I cared about receiving anonymous messages, warnings to stay away from me. Some were offered money to transfer schools. Others got more direct threats."
My heart raced. "And you think your family sent those messages?"
"I know they did. My father has people who handle his… inconveniences. People who make problems disappear." He stood, moving to the window, his back to me. "Emma, I need you to understand something. My family is dangerous. Not in the vague, 'rich people are assholes' way. In the 'people who cross us end up dead or disappeared' way."