Chapter 25 Are We Clear
The next morning my hair was still damp from track when I cut across campus toward Environmental Science. Low clouds hung over the campus and the path was already busy with students rushing between buildings.
I came around the bend by the library and saw them immediately.
Jackson was leaning against the low brick wall under the big maple tree, listening as Rick talked with big, animated gestures. Jason stood on his other side. Lia was close to Jackson, books clutched to her chest, smiling at whatever Rick was saying.
My cat perked up the second I registered him.
Jackson’s head turned. Even as Rick kept talking, his attention shifted the moment he saw me.
For half a second I hesitated. Part of me wanted to keep walking, to stay in control, to not make this public. But another part, the part that had been restless since last night, won.
I walked straight up to him, slid my arms around his waist, and tipped my face up.
“Morning.”
He froze for half a second, surprise flashing across his face before his hands settled at my waist. His expression softened, warm and open in a way that hit me somewhere deep in the chest.
“Morning, baby.”
I rose onto my toes and brushed a light kiss across his mouth. He smiled against my lips. When I pulled back, there was something deeper in his eyes, something he made no effort to hide.
Rick snorted. Jason elbowed him in the ribs, hard enough to make him grunt.
“I’ll meet you in class,” Lia said to the others. “I want to grab a coffee.” She adjusted the books in her arms and walked off toward the science building without waiting for a reply.
Jackson blinked after her for a second, then looked down at me again.
“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go.” He took my bag off my shoulder without asking, slung it over his own, and took my hand. We fell into step together toward the lecture hall.
Behind us, Rick and Jason started talking again, voices low. I only caught pieces of it. Jackson didn’t join in. He kept my hand in his, thumb brushing slow circles over my knuckles as we walked.
His head dipped toward me. “Did you sleep well?”
“Fine enough. You?”
“No.”
I glanced up at him. He was looking ahead, the corner of his mouth tipped up.
“Why not?”
“Spent half the night staring at the ceiling,” he said. “Trying to decide whether to text you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“You needed to come to me on your own.”
He understood me better than I wanted him to. Silence settled between us for a few steps.
“What is this, Harper?”
I thought about it for the length of three strides. Then I gave him the only honest answer I had.
“I don’t know yet.”
He nodded once.
“But I’m not pulling back.”
His fingers tightened around mine. We walked a little farther.
I kept my voice casual when I spoke again. “So was there a creepy guy last night?”
Jackson shrugged. “He was gone by the time I got there.”
I didn’t say anything. It felt too convenient. But I kept the thought to myself.
The lecture hall was already filling when we got there. Lia sat three rows from the front, books open in front of her. She didn’t look up as we passed. There was no coffee on the table.
Jackson guided us to our usual seats halfway back. He put my bag down and took the seat beside me. The familiar weight of his thigh against mine followed a second later, then his arm along the back of my chair.
Hartley spent ninety minutes on soil chemistry. Near the end, he set down the marker.
“Before we finish — group projects. You should all be well underway by now. Methodology drafts are due in two weeks. Get your samples in this week.”
The class started packing up around us. Jackson didn’t move. He turned slightly toward me instead.
“Come over this week,” he said. “We need to actually sit down with the data and lay out the methodology properly. My place. I’ll cook.”
He waited, watching me decide.
“Okay,” I said.
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Thursday.”
“Thursday works.”
He nodded once, picked up both our bags, and stood. “Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”
Behavioral Analysis was at eleven in a smaller hall across the quad.
Jackson kept his hand at the small of my back the whole way there.
We sat together near the middle. Sterling spent the hour on victim selection patterns in serial offenders.
I took notes. Jackson’s attention stayed divided between the lecture and me.
When class ended and the hall started emptying, I waited until most of the students had left.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I said, already stepping toward the door.
“I’ll find you,” Jackson said.
The bathroom was empty when I pushed the door open. I dropped my bag by the sink, used the toilet, then washed my hands at the far basin. I was reaching for a paper towel when the door swung open behind me.
Naomi walked in with two of her friends close behind her. They spread out just enough to block the exit.
I dried my hands slowly and turned.
“I told you I’d find out,” Naomi said.
“Find out what?”
She tilted her head, a small satisfied smile on her mouth. “Harper James. Twenty-three. Transferred from Northlake. You’ve been living with your aunt Janet since you were thirteen because your parents died in a fire.”
I tossed the paper towel, and leaned back against the sink with my arms crossed.
“It’s a sad little story,” she continued. “Except I couldn’t find a single school photo. No childhood friends. No local articles about the fire. Nothing. It’s like Harper James just… appeared at thirteen.”
She stepped closer.
“So what is it? Witness protection? Some foster kid your aunt decided to give a full backstory? Or something else?”
I kept my face blank.
“I haven’t told Jackson yet,” she said. “I figured I’d give you the chance to do it yourself. Or better — leave town before I have to.”
“You went digging.”
“Obviously.”
“And that’s all you found?”
“It’s enough for a start.” Her smile turned mean. “So here’s the deal. You leave Jackson alone. Drop his lectures. Stop sitting with him. Stop touching him in the hallways. Go back to being the quiet runner in the corner of the cafeteria. By Friday. Do that, and I’ll forget I noticed any of this.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I keep looking. And I’ll make enough noise that the right people start looking too. Cops. Reporters. Pack security. Whoever feels like asking questions.”
She smiled, waiting.
I considered it for a second. She had theories, not proof — Brian had made sure of that.
I glanced toward the ceiling. No cameras. That made things simpler.
“You really did your homework, Nicole.”
A muscle ticked at her jaw. “It’s Naomi.”
“Right.” I shrugged. “This changes nothing.”
I pushed away from the sink.
“I'm not leaving him alone. If anything, you'll be seeing a lot more of us.” I tilted my head slightly. “You might want to get used to that.”
Her face flushed.
“And as for the rest of it…” I shrugged again. “Go ahead. Dig. Tell people. Tell Jackson. Tell the whole school. I don’t care. You spent an entire weekend looking into my childhood and all you found were missing yearbook photos. That’s not evidence. That’s just sad.”
I let the silence sit for a second.
“Oh. And one more thing.”
Her brow furrowed.
“I'm definitely not going to stop sleeping with him.”
Naomi’s face twisted. “Grab her. Now.”
They rushed me from both sides. The bigger one got there first and clamped down on my upper arm. The smaller one was only half a step behind.
I let them close the distance. Then I moved. I trapped the bigger girl’s grip against my ribs with my elbow, pivoted hard, and drove a palm strike straight into the smaller girl’s jaw. Her head snapped sideways and she hit the floor hard.
Naomi was already swinging.
I ducked under the punch and drove my knee up into her stomach. Air burst from her lungs as she folded. At the same time the bigger girl yanked on my arm, trying to drag me off balance. I twisted free before she could lock the hold.
She came at me again, this time going for my throat.
Wrong choice.
I stepped inside her reach, caught her wrist, and used her own momentum to drive her into the tile wall. She hit shoulder-first. Her head cracked against the tile a split second later. She slid down and didn’t get back up.
That left Naomi.
She was on one knee, one arm wrapped tight around her stomach. The smaller girl stayed on the floor, still clutching her jaw, making no move to get up. Naomi lifted her head and looked at me.
"You just don't know when to quit, do you?" I murmured.
“Fuck you!”
She charged again, shoulder lowered like a bull.
I stepped aside at the last second, caught her ponytail as she barreled past, and used her own momentum to turn her.
She clawed at my wrist, but I already had the angle.
I dragged her down by the hair and forced her onto her knees in front of the toilet. I kept her there.
“Listen to me.” My voice stayed level. “You think this was rough? That was me being generous.”
I tightened my grip just enough to make the point.
“I let you run your mouth because I had better things to do. That’s over now.”
I leaned closer to her ear.
“That ends today. Next time you come for me, I won’t hold back. I’ll make sure the damage is permanent.”
Her breathing came harsh and fast against the porcelain.
“Are we clear?”
She said nothing, still clinging to one last scrap of defiance.
So I shoved her face into the bowl and flushed.
Cold water surged over her head. She thrashed hard, nails scraping at the rim of the toilet and then at my wrist and forearm as she tried to break my grip.
I held her there for a few brutal seconds, long enough for the point to land, then yanked her back up by the ponytail.
She came up coughing and gasping, water streaming down her face. A broken sob tore out of her throat.
“You’re insane,” she choked.
“Probably.” I tightened my grip on her hair. “Are we clear?”
“Yes,” she breathed, voice shaking.
“Good.”
I released her and stepped back. She stayed on her knees by the bowl, chest heaving, too busy coughing to look at me.
I walked to the sink, turned on the tap, and rinsed the three deep scratches she had left on my forearm. The water ran pink for a second. I patted the cuts dry with a paper towel, tugged my sleeves back down, and checked the mirror. The dark green fabric hid most of the blood.
I took my time. I retightened my ponytail, picked up my bag from beside the dryer, and calmly reapplied my lipstick in the mirror.
Behind me, the bigger girl had managed to push herself upright against the wall.
The smaller one sat slumped against the bin, still cradling her jaw. Neither of them would meet my eyes.
“What a nasty fall you all had,” I said, watching them in the mirror. “Slipped on the wet floor, didn’t you?”
Two small, terrified nods.
“Good. Keep it that way.” I unlocked the door and walked out.
The cafeteria was already loud by the time I walked in. Jackson was at the wolves’ table with two untouched trays in front of him. The second I crossed the threshold his attention locked onto me. He stood without a word and came straight across the room.
When he reached me he leaned in and breathed me in — then went completely still.
I knew what he smelled. The three fresh scratches hidden under my sleeves. The bitter wolf scent clinging to me. The raw edge of violence that hadn’t fully left my blood.
Fury flashed across his face before he locked it down hard. Without a word he steered me toward the wolves’ table, hand firm on my lower back.
The table went dead silent as we approached. Rick’s eyebrows shot up. Jason froze mid-bite. A couple of the others shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Lia looked away sharply, suddenly very interested in her phone.
This was the first time he had ever brought me here.
Jackson sat down and pulled me onto his lap in one smooth, possessive motion. His arms locked around my waist like a clear warning to everyone at the table. His mouth brushed my ear.
“You okay?” he whispered. “I smell Naomi all over you. What the fuck happened?”
“I’m fine,” I whispered back. “Just a few scratches.”
“Show me.”
I lifted my left sleeve just enough under the cover of the table. The deepest cut had already welled up again. I tugged the sleeve back down before anyone else could see.
His thumb stroked once, slow, over my hip.
“You’ll tell me everything later.”
Not a question.
“Mm.”
He turned his head and rubbed his cheek against mine in a slow, deliberate drag, then lower, down the side of my neck. Scent marking me right there in front of the entire table. I didn’t pull away. Under my skin my cat practically melted into the heavy, reassuring contact.
That was when Naomi walked in.
Jackson went rigid beneath me. Every muscle in his body locked tight at once. The arm around my waist tightened like a steel band.
She had cleaned up fast. Hair smoothed back, makeup fixed, though her collar was still slightly damp. From a distance she almost looked normal — until her eyes landed on us. Shock, fear, and rage moved across her face in quick succession.
Jackson met her eyes without blinking. The silent warning rolled off him in waves.
Naomi faltered. Instead of walking to her usual seat further down the long table, she grabbed a tray and veered sharply toward a small empty table near the door. She sat alone with her back stiff and didn’t touch her food.
Only then did Jackson’s grip loosen slightly. He picked up half his sandwich and brought it to my lips. I took a bite without thinking, still half-focused on Naomi across the room.
That was when I noticed how quiet the table had become.
Several heads had turned. Rick leaned back in his chair with an unreadable expression. Jason set his fork down carefully. A couple of the other wolves exchanged quick glances. Even Lia had frozen with her hand halfway to her glass.
Jackson acted like nothing unusual had happened. He fed me the second bite, set the rest of the sandwich on my plate, and settled his arm back around my waist. Then he picked up Rick’s interrupted story about regional rankings as if it were any other ordinary lunch.
I shrugged the stares off and focused on the food. After a minute the chatter around the table stumbled back to life.
Ten minutes later, Lia stood up suddenly.
“I just remembered I need to talk to Hartley about the project deadline,” she said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite land. “Catch you guys later.”
Jason blinked. “It’s lunch.”
She didn’t answer. She grabbed her tray, gave the table one more quick, tight smile that never reached her eyes, and carefully avoided looking at me. Then she walked out.
I watched her go. She didn’t head toward the faculty offices. She turned left instead, toward the side exit. Her phone was already in her hand before the door swung shut behind her.