Page 31 of False Catch

"Typical Alphas," I say, trying to crack a joke. Quinton huffs out a laugh with that disarming crooked smile on his face, but it doesn’t sound like he’s buying it.

"I'll walk you back. It's getting dark."

I want to say no, but that would look suspicious. Like there's something inappropriate about the team's concern. "Sure, thanks."

We walk through campus as the sun sets, Quinton keeping respectful distance between us. He tells me about a professor who fell asleep during his own lecture, about the time the lacrosse team accidentally dyed the pond pink. Normal college stories. Safe topics.

The path to the team house cuts through woods, and it's properly dark under the trees. I'm actually grateful for the company until I see a figure on the back deck.

Jackson. Standing perfectly still, watching us approach.

"Is that your place?" Quinton asks.

"The team house. I'm staying there temporarily."

"Why?"

I hesitate, then decide partial truth is better than lies. "Someone left a threatening note under my dorm door. The guys insisted I stay somewhere safer."

Quinton stops walking, his hand catching my arm gently. "Wait, what? Someone threatened you?"

"It's handled."

"Reese, that's serious. Did you report it?"

"The team's taking care of it."

His expression shifts to genuine concern. "Are you okay? Really okay?"

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. "Yeah. I'm fine. The guys are... they're protective."

"I can see that." He glances up at Jackson, who hasn't moved. "Just... be careful, okay?"

"Careful of what?"

He steps closer, lowering his voice. "These guys, they're not all what you think. Especially Gray. I know you think they're protecting you, but sometimes protection and possession look really similar."

"Quinton—"

"I'm not trying to start anything. Just... someone should be looking out for you. Making sure you're okay. If you need anything, if something feels wrong, you can call me. Anytime."

He squeezes my arm gently, then steps back. "See you in class Monday?"

"Yeah. Thanks for walking me back."

He nods, gives Jackson a long look I can't interpret, then heads back toward campus.

When I turn to face the house, Jackson is still on the deck, but now his expression is clearly visible in the porch light.

He looks ready to kill someone. Maybe multiple someones.

"Jackson—"

"Get inside." His voice is flat, controlled in that dangerous way. "Now."

"I don't take orders from—"

"Reese." Just my name, but the way he says it stops me cold. "Please. Get inside before I do something that violates our probation."