Page 80 of Final Drive

“The school your father paid.”

That one he doesn’t answer, which is its own answer.

“Kinsley was sloppy,” he says instead, quiet and certain. “I’m not.”

And there’s the whole plan, handed over in five words. She takes the fall. Nothing in Tyler’s folder has his name on it. He walks out of this building and goes back to class.

“You sound rehearsed.”

“I’ve prepared for a number of things.” He’s in my space now, not touching me, close enough that I’d have to push past him, and the railing is cold through my jacket. “In a few weeks, when the noise dies down, the administration starts asking about your designation and your team’s conduct and your coaches’ oversight. All of it comes apart anyway.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a forecast. I don’t have to threaten you. The institution will do it for me.” He reaches out and touches my chin with the tips of his fingers, tilting my face up. “You’re an Omega on a men’s crew with claim marks under your collar and a pack filing in progress. You think the university lets that stand? You think the conference does? The AVNC?”

I don’t pull away and I don’t flinch.

“Take your hand off me.”

“Or what? You’ll file another complaint?” He smiles. “Go ahead. My word against yours in an empty stairwell. No witnesses. No cameras. A concerned classmate checking on his project partner after a difficult hearing.”

“Or,” I say, and my voice comes out very calm, “I’ll break your fingers.”

The smile goes.

“You think I’m the same girl who sat across from you at Common Grounds and swallowed every word?” I hold his eyes. “I have eight Alphas who would take you apart if I asked. I have a Title IX coordinator already building a file with your name on it. I have Tyler Wu, who has been three moves ahead of you since he found your second account. And I have a written statement from a woman you did this to before me.”

I take one step forward, into his space. He doesn’t move back. He does stop talking.

“You spent months trying to cut me off from the people who actually care about me. Trying to turn me into another Sophia, too frightened and too ashamed to fight.” My voice drops. “I’m not Sophia. And you are nowhere near as clever as you think.”

His hand comes off my chin.

“We’re done. Walk away clean from Kinsley’s mess, I don’t care. But if you come near me again, or near anyone on my team, or if you look at us across a parking lot, I will make it my life’s work that every school you apply to and every firm that considers you and every board your father sits on knows exactly what you are.”

“And what’s that?”

“A predator who peaked in prep school.”

The stairwell door opens a floor below and Bo’s voice comes up the concrete, tight and fast.

“Reese?”

Quinton steps back smoothly, like it was always his idea. His hands go into his pockets and the mask comes back on, not all the way, just enough. The pleasant expression. The easy shoulders. His eyes stay flat.

“Up here,” I call.

Bo takes the stairs two at a time and comes around the landing. He reads the whole thing inside a second, me against the railing, Quinton a step above me with his body between me and the way down.

Bo doesn’t say a word. He just moves, putting himself between us with the same instinct that puts him in seven seat, the wall between the stroke and everything behind it.

Gray arrives two seconds later. His eyes find Quinton, and everything in his face goes very quiet.

“Gray.” Quinton’s voice is conversational. “It’s been a while.”

“Walk away.”

“I was congratulating Reese on her hearing. Good result. She should be proud.”