We need proof though. But how do you determine if a well-liked professor is potentially a murderer without drawing attention to yourself?
Before we can discuss our next move, Calder's phone rings.
The change in him is immediate. His entire body goes rigid, eyes darting around the grounds. "Mother?" His voice carries confusion and something close to dread. "You're... where?"
Tyler and Julian exchange glances. I watch the color drain from Calder's face.
"At the gates? With—" He closes his eyes. "Yes. I understand." He ends the call and just stands there, staring at nothing. "My parents are here. They brought Victoria."
"Who's Victoria?" I ask, though my stomach already knows the answer won't be good.
Calder looks at me, storm-gray eyes filled with panic. "The omega my mother wanted me to bond with. They arranged an introduction last summer. I thought I made it clear I wasn't interested, but apparently…"
"Oh shit," Tyler breathes.
"Define 'wanted you to bond with’,” Julian says. “Casual suggestion or formal arrangement?"
"My mother doesn't do casual suggestions." Calder runs a hand through his hair. "Victoria's family owns the Winters chain of hotels and resorts. They’re wealthy, perfectly matched bloodlines, everything my mother values. She attended Maidenhill Academy. She's... nice. But I never?—"
His phone buzzes with a text. His face pales further.
"They're coming. I need to intercept them before?—"
"Calder!" A woman's voice carries across the grass, cultured, commanding, leaving no room for anything but immediate attention.
Too late.
I recognize wealth when I see it, even though I've never been around it before.
Calder’s mother wears a cream suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Her dark hair is swept into a perfect chignon. Her jewelry catches the sunlight. She moves with the kind of confidence that comes from never being told no.
The man beside her is equally polished, tailored slacks, expensive sweater, the solid build of someone who maintains appearances as naturally as breathing.
And between them walks an omega who looks like she stepped out of a magazine spread onappropriate matches. Honey-blonde hair in soft waves. Blue fitted dresswith matching designer purse. Delicate jewelry. She's beautiful in the way that comes from a lifetime of careful cultivation.
She doesn’t smile when her gaze settles on Calder and the rest of us.
Margaret Ashford's eyes sweep our little study group, lips pinched. Her gaze lingers on me, on Calder's hand brushing mine, on how close we're standing, on my simple clothes and braided hair and complete lack of polish.
Her smile could frost glass.
"Calder." She extends both hands toward him in a gesture that looks affectionate but somehow isn't. “We thought we'd visit campus, show Victoria around. She's been so curious about Elderwood."
Victoria studies the ground as if the only thing she’s curious about is finding an escape route.
"Mother. Father." Calder positions himself slightly in front of me. The gesture isn't lost on anyone. "This is... unexpected."
"Surprises keep life interesting, don't they?" Margaret's eyes flick back to me, assessing and finding me lacking in the span of a heartbeat. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your... friends?"
The pause before ‘friends’ hits its mark.
Calder's jaw tightens. "This is Elowen Rowan. Tyler Vale. Julian Cross." His hand finds mine, fingers lacing together with deliberate visibility. "My pack."
The silence that follows could shatter a rock.
Margaret's composure cracks, just slightly, her mouth openingand closing like a goldfish. Robert Ashford's eyebrows rise. Victoria finally looks up, eyes widening.
"Pack?" Margaret says shrilly. "Calder, I think perhaps we should speak privately."
