Iris:
I lay there for a moment
staring at the ceiling, waiting for my heart to stop racing.
It hadn't since last night.
Hunter's voice still lingered in my head, that moment when he'd gone still and looked toward the trees like he saw something I couldn't.
And the message — You shouldn't let them get so close.
I'd deleted it, but I could still feel the words, like they'd been burned into my skin.
When I finally sat up, the silence in the dorm felt wrong. Ivy was gone, Lena's side of the room perfectly made, everything too neat, too still.
The kind of quiet that makes you listen harder.
I checked my phone again. No new messages.
And somehow that was worse.
By the time I reached the courtyard, the wind had picked up — that soft chill that makes you wish you'd brought a jacket.
Cole found me first, leaning against one of the stone pillars with that easy grin.
"Morning, trouble."
I tried to smile back. "Morning."
He fell into step beside me. "You look like someone who's been thinking too much."
"Maybe I have."
He glanced at me. "About who or what?"
"Does it matter?"
He laughed under his breath. "It always matters."
There was a warmth to him that made things easier — the kind that could almost make you forget why your hands wouldn't stop shaking.
But that calm vanished the moment Hunter appeared across the courtyard.
His gaze locked on me first, then Cole. His jaw tightened.
"You didn't answer my call," Hunter said.
"I was getting coffee."
"You could've texted."
Cole's voice sharpened. "She's allowed to have a morning, man."
Hunter's stare flicked toward him, cool and sharp. "Just making sure she's okay."
"I'm fine," I said quickly, though my heart felt like it was splintering in too many directions.
"I have class."
They both let me go, but I could still feel them watching me as I walked away — one with worry, one with something that almost felt like jealousy.
The lecture hall was too warm, the air thick and heavy.
The professor's voice faded in and out like background noise, the kind you stop hearing when your thoughts get too loud.
I tried to take notes, but the words blurred together.
Every time I looked up, I caught my reflection in the window — pale, tired, unfamiliar.
And once, just once, I thought I saw something else behind me.
A shape.
Still. Watching.
When I blinked, it was gone.
But that feeling — that cold prickle on the back of my neck — didn't leave.
I don't remember deciding to go back to the river.
It just… happened.
The water was darker this time, the current slow and heavy, the air thick.
For a few minutes, I stood there in silence, listening to the rush of water and wind through the trees.
"Didn't think you'd come back," a voice said behind me.
I turned fast, heart leaping into my throat.
Sawyer stepped out from the shadows, his hands tucked into his pockets, that faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
"You shouldn't be here alone," he said.
"Neither should you."
"Guess that makes two of us doing something stupid."
He moved closer, close enough that I could see the faint scar under his jaw, the one he never talked about.
There was something in his eyes — not softness, not really. Something steadier, heavier.
He said, "Hunter told me what happened. Said you've been getting messages."
I froze. "He told you that?"
"He's worried about you."
I looked away. "He worries too much."
"And Cole?" he asked quietly.
"What about him?"
"You two seem close."
"He's just… nice to me."
"That's not all," Sawyer said.
I met his eyes then, ready to argue, but the look on his face stopped me. He wasn't angry. Just… protective.
It was easier to look back at the water than to meet that gaze.
"You ever feel like someone's following you?" I asked.
Sawyer's voice dropped. "Why?"
"I just— I keep feeling like someone's there. Even when I can't see them."
He stepped a little closer. "If someone's messing with you, I'll find out who."
I almost believed him.
The air shifted — colder now.
Something cracked behind us, sharp and fast, like a footstep on wet wood.
Sawyer turned. "We're leaving."
My phone buzzed. I pulled it out, heart already stuttering.
Another message.
You shouldn't have gone back there.
My stomach dropped.
"What?" Sawyer asked, reading my face.
"Nothing," I said quickly — too quickly. But the screen stayed lit long enough for him to see.
He grabbed my wrist gently, steadying me. "Who's sending you that?"
"I don't know."
He looked around, scanning the trees. "Someone's out here."
Then I heard it — a faint click.
The kind of sound cameras make when they're too close.
Sawyer moved fast. "Who's there?"
Nothing. Just wind. Leaves. Shadows that looked too much like people.
My phone buzzed again.
I didn't want to look.
But I did.
A photo.
Me and Sawyer.
Standing by the river.
Taken seconds ago.
I couldn't breathe.
Sawyer's hand tightened around mine. "We're leaving," he said again — no hesitation this time.
As we walked back toward campus, I glanced over my shoulder once more.
The water rippled, catching the last bit of dying light — and just beyond it, between the trees, someone stood watching.
And for the first time, I realized whoever they were, they weren't just watching me. They were closer than that.
Cole:
Something about Iris didn't add up.
She laughed when she was supposed to, smiled when people were watching — but when she thought no one was, her eyes looked like she was somewhere else entirely.
Somewhere far away.
I saw her at the river that night.
Not all of it — just enough.
Hunter had asked me to keep an eye on her, said she'd been getting strange messages, and said she wouldn't talk about them.
And now, standing at the edge of the courtyard, I understood why.
Because when I saw her walk off alone toward the trees, I knew it wasn't just nerves.
It was fear.
Hunter was already on his way to look for her, but I didn't follow right away.
I wanted to give her space.
That was my excuse, anyway.
The truth was — I was jealous.
Hunter had always been the one people looked to. The one with control, the quiet strength, the protective stare.
And then there was Sawyer — the mystery, the one who didn't have to say much to make people lean closer.
Me? I was the easy one. The one who smiled, who filled silences with jokes, who didn't push too hard.
But Iris… she made it hard not to.
I found them down by the water.
Her and Sawyer.
They were close — too close.
The kind of close that made something twist low in my chest, something I didn't want to name.
I started to turn away, but then I heard it — that sound, faint but sharp.
A camera.
Sawyer reacted instantly, stepping forward, scanning the trees.
I stayed back, watching.
The air felt wrong, thick, humming with something electric and wrong.
And then I saw it — a flash, deep in the woods.
Someone was there.
Before I could move, Iris looked down at her phone, her expression collapsing in on itself.
I knew that look.
Fear.
Sawyer took her hand, leading her back toward campus.
They didn't see me. I stayed hidden, because part of me wanted to protect her — and part of me couldn't stand how he was the one she looked to when things broke apart.
When they disappeared down the path, I took a step closer to where the flash had come from.
There was nothing there.
Just footprints in the mud.
Small. Deep.
And something else, half-buried under the wet leaves — a matchbook, damp but legible.
Blair Ridge Coffee.
The same café where Iris was applying to work.
A chill went through me.
Someone wasn't just watching her.
They were following her.
And the worst part —
They knew where she'd be next.