Page 69 of False Catch

But I can't move. Can't breathe. It’s a violation, my private moments weaponized for public humiliation. The girl who can't keep her hands off Alphas. The Omega who spreads it around.

"Reese." Quinton's in front of me suddenly, blocking my view of the growing crowd. His hands hover near my face, not quite touching, remembering my flinch from earlier. "Hey, look at me. We need to get you out of here. Now."

He's already steering me away without touching, his body shielding me from curious stares. We cut across the quad, Quinton tearing down every photo we pass with genuine anger. His usual smooth charm is completely gone, replaced by protective fury.

"This is harassment," he says, voice shaking with outrage. "This is—God, Reese, I'm so sorry. This is horrible. We need to report this to campus security."

"No." The word comes out too fast, too desperate. The last thing I need is an official investigation that might uncover everything else—my designation, the team dynamics, Jackson's claim.

"Okay, okay." He guides me toward the lacrosse field, empty at this hour. "No security. But we need to get you somewhere away from all this. Somewhere you can breathe."

We slip under the bleachers into relative privacy, the morning sun casting barred shadows across the grass. Quinton's pacing, running his hands through his usually perfect dark hair, genuinely distressed.

"Who would do this?" He's still clutching the crumpled photos he collected. "This is sick. These are private moments, and someone's been—God, they've been stalking you."

"I don't know." But I have suspicions. Kinsley, who's been escalating her harassment. Andrea from Westlake, who helped orchestrate my downfall there. Or someone else entirely, someone who's been watching longer than I realized.

"The one with that guy..." Quinton looks at the first photo, confused. "That looks old. Like, not from here."

"It's from Westlake. Before I transferred."

"Someone saved a photo of you from another school?" His voice rises. "That's beyond creepy, Reese. That's obsessive."

"And this one with Gray..." He holds up the second photo carefully, like it might hurt me. "This is recent, right?"

"Sunday after Riverside. Someone's been watching us." My voice sounds hollow. "Following the team."

"Following you," he corrects gently. "Reese, this is serious. Someone's obsessed enough to surveil you, to save old photos, to publicly humiliate you. You need help dealing with this."

"I have the team—"

"The team that's obviously going through something major?" He stops pacing, facing me with genuine concern. "Reese, I heard your phone blowing up during class. And let me guess–Gray is conspicuously quiet. That guy never shuts up about crew stuff, trying to control every factor around him, until that control starts to fracture. He’s nothing if not predictable. Whatever's happening with you guys, you're all stressed and distracted."

The words sting because they're true. The team is barely holding together. Gray won't speak to Jackson. Everyone's choosing sides. And I'm in the middle, claimed by one Alpha while connected to all eight, trying to keep us from completely imploding.

"Look, I can help," Quinton says, sitting down on the grass a respectful distance away. "My dad knows people in campus security. I can make sure they take this seriously but keep it quiet. No deep investigation, just enough to maybe catch whoever's doing this."

"Why would you do that?"

He looks genuinely surprised by the question. "Because we're friends? Or at least, I thought we were becoming friends. And friends don't let friends deal with stalkers alone."

Despite everything, I almost smile at that.

"Just think about it," he says, pulling out his phone. "In the meantime, I'm texting my buddy in buildings and grounds. He'll get these photos cleaned up before noon. Quietly. No questions asked."

As he texts, focused on his phone, I check mine. The team chat has exploded once again.

Zane: WHAT THE FUCK

Zane: WHO DID THIS

Bo: Where's Reese? Someone find her NOW

Tyler: Photos are spreading online. Three Instagram accounts already

Beckett: I'm ripping down every one I find

Cameron: Someone's about to learn what happens when you come for our cox