Page 5 of What We Don't Say: Part Two

“You don’t.” The words cut out of me before I can soften them, and the security guard near the elevator straightens. I see it. “She was scared. Something happened here. I need to know who saw her last.”

The woman’s expression tightens. “Mr. Rivera, this office can confirm Professor Monroe completed her scheduled appointment and left campus. I can’t provide anything further.”

“Left how?”

“I can’t provide anything further.”

“With Garrett?”

“I can’t provide anything further.”

“Was she alone?” My voice rises, and the guard takes one step away from the elevator. I turn toward him, anger slamming into the surface of my skin. “Don’t. I’m asking where my mate is because the man who claimed he helped her came home without her.”

“Sir,” the guard says, careful and flat, “you need to lower your voice.”

I look back at the desk because if I look at him too long, I’ll give Garrett exactly what he wants. “Pull the security tapes.”

The woman’s mouth thins. “Security footage can’t be released to private individuals.”

“I’m not asking for a copy. I’m asking you to check them. Look at the admin wing, the parking lot, wherever she was after the interview. Tell me if she walked out alone.”

“That request would need to go through campus security administration or law enforcement.”

“Then get them.”

“I can’t do that based on a walk-in request.”

The counter is between us, and it’s the only reason I still have somewhere to put my hands. My body wants movement. It wants a door to break, a file to seize, a person to shake until the truth falls out. My mind keeps throwing Callie at me in pieces: her scarf slipping off one shoulder this morning, the small smile she gave me when I told her she’d charm the committee, the way she looked back from the driveway like she was trying to memorize the house before she left it. I should’ve gone with her. I should’ve put my body between her and every polished sentence Garrett had ready.

“She wouldn’t just leave,” I say, and I hate how close it comes to begging. “She wouldn’t leave Theo scared. She wouldn’t leave me with the bond closed. She wouldn’t send Garrett as a messenger.”

The woman softens for half a second. It’s worse than fear. Pity makes me feel like I’m already too late.

“Mr. Rivera,” she says, quieter now, “Professor Monroe left the campus. That’s all I’m able to tell you. If you believe she’s in danger, you need to contact the local police.”

“I believe she was put in danger here.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The security guard comes closer. Not touching distance. Close enough to make the message official. I stare at the woman behind the desk and try to remember that she’s not the enemy. She’s just a person following a rule that might be protecting Callie from someone who looks exactly like me.

I step back.

It feels like ripping skin from bone.

I make it outside before the first sound breaks out of me. It’s ugly, too low to be human, swallowed by the wind moving across the quad. Students glance over and then away quickly. Good. They should look away. If they look too long, they’ll see a man coming apart in public because the woman he loves has been turned into a privacy restriction and a closed bond.

I call her again from the walkway. Voicemail.

“Callie,” I say after the beep, walking fast because standing still makes me want to go back inside and tear the building apart. “Campus says you left. They won’t tell me how. They won’t tell me who you were with. Baby, I know something happened. I know you didn’t choose this. Please, if you can hear these, send me anything. One word. A location. A blank message. I’ll find you from that. I swear I will.”

The phone cuts me off.

Sloane

I try Theo next, because the sight of his name on the screen hurts in a different place. Idris answers from Theo’s phone on the second ring.

“He’s right here,” Idris says.