The Campus Return

Marlo

I zipped my backpack shut as I grabbed the straps, pulled the bag over my shoulder, and turned around.

Jarrah was sitting at the kitchen counter. He was dressed in a crisp, black button down shirt that stretched tightly across his broad chest, and a pair of dark slacks. He looked like exactly what he was: a ruthless, untouchable billionaire who owned the city.

He didn't look up from his tablet. He just took a slow sip of his black coffee.

"I'm going to class," I said. My voice shook a little, but I forced my chin up.

That made him stop. Jarrah slowly lowered his mug to the counter. The quiet clink sounded like a warning bell. He finally looked up at me, his eyes narrowing into dark, dangerous slits.

"You're not going anywhere, Marlo," he said flatly.

"My forensic psychology midterms are this week," I shot back, gripping my backpack straps so hard my knuckles turned white. "If I don't show up, I fail. If I fail, I lose my scholarship. Siobhan already stole my past. I am not letting her or you steal my future."

I expected him to yell. I expected him to order his armed guards to lock me back in the guest bedroom.

Instead, Jarrah just stared at me. For a long, suffocating moment, then I heard a laugh. A dark, rough, terrifyingly amused laugh.

He stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the floor.

My heart hammered against my ribs as he closed the distance between us in three long strides. I backed up automatically, but my spine hit the refrigerator. Jarrah stopped right in front of me, crowding my space, stealing all the oxygen in the room.

He planted one large hand on the fridge beside my head, caging me in. The spicy, masculine scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of gunpowder from the basement last night.

"You have a death wish, little bird," he murmured. His voice was a rough vibration that sent a hot, heavy shiver down my spine. "Last night, I pulled an armed man out of the ventilation shaft above your bedroom and today, you want to walk right back onto a campus filled with glass windows and open sightlines."

"I refuse to live in a glass box," I whispered, staring up into his intense eyes. "I refuse to cower in your mansion and wait to die. I'm going to my dorm. I'm going to my classes. I'm going to live my life."

Jarrah’s gaze dropped to my lips. The air between us cracked with a thick, electric heat. My breath hitched as his rough thumb rubbed against my lower lip. The touch was entirely possessive. It wasn't a request; it was a brand.

"You are the most stubborn, reckless thing I have ever met," he whispered, his hot breath brushing my cheek. "Fine. You want to go to class? You go but you play by my rules."

He stepped back, dropping his hand, leaving my skin burning from where he had touched me.

"Bring him in," Jarrah ordered over his shoulder.

The door leading to the basement opened. Two of Jarrah’s massive security guards walked into the kitchen, dragging a man between them. They threw him violently onto the floor at Jarrah’s feet.

I let out a sharp gasp, stumbling backward.

It was Cal O'Shea.

His face was swollen, bloody mess. His lip was split wide open, and one of his eyes was swollen completely shut. His wrists were bound together with thick black zip ties. This was the man who had held a gun to my aunt’s head. This was the man who had shot at me on the library steps.

"What is he doing up here?" I choked out, pure panic rising in my throat. "Jarrah, get him away from me!"

"He’s not going to hurt you, Marlo," Jarrah said coldly, staring down at the bleeding man on the floor. "Are you, Cal?"

Cal coughed, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor. He looked up at Jarrah with pure, unadulterated terror in his one good eye. "No. No, sir."

Jarrah looked at me. "You want to walk around in the open? Fine but you don't go alone. Cal is going to be your shadow."

"Are you insane?" I yelled, pointing at the man on the floor. "He works for Siobhan! He tried to kill me!"

"He worked for Siobhan," Jarrah corrected, his voice dropping into a deadly, chilling register. He crouched down, grabbing Cal by the hair and jerking his head back. Cal whined in pain. "Last night, Cal and I came to a new arrangement in the basement. Right, Cal?"

"Yes," Cal croaked, his body trembling violently.

Jarrah leaned in close to Cal’s face. "If a single scratch appears on her skin, if someone so much as looks at her wrong and you don't stop it I will not just kill you. I will skin you alive and mail the pieces to your mother. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Cal choked out, tears of actual fear spilling down his bruised face.

Jarrah stood up and wiped his hands on a towel. He looked at me, his face a mask of cold stone. "He is your dog now. He goes where you go. He stands outside your classroom. If you want to survive today, you let him do his job."

An hour later, Jarrah’s armored black SUV pulled up to the main gates of the university.

The campus was packed with students walking to their morning lectures. When the heavy vehicle stopped by the quad, people stopped and stared.

Jarrah reached across the backseat, his large hand gripping my thigh right above my knee. His fingers squeezed possessively. "Call me the second you are done," he ordered.

"I will," I whispered.

I opened the door and stepped out into the morning air. The moment my boots hit the pavement, the door of the trailing car opened.

Cal stepped out. He was wearing a dark hoodie pulled low over his bruised face, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He didn't look at me. He just fell into step exactly three feet behind me, moving like a silent, broken ghost.

The psychological weight of having mine would be killer guarding my back made my stomach twist into knots.

I walked up the main path toward the science building, keeping my head down. The whispers of the students surrounded me, but I ignored them. I just wanted to get inside.

"Well, well. Look who finally decided to show up."

I stopped.

Standing at the top of the stairs, blocking the entrance to the building, was Tamsin Sterling.

She was dressed in a pristine white coat, holding a stack of books against her chest. Tamsin had hated me since freshman year. She was wealthy, arrogant, and made it her life’s mission to make me feel like I didn't belong here.

Her lips curled into a nasty sneer as she looked at me. "Skip too many classes, Marlo, and they'll revoke your little charity scholarship. We wouldn't want the poor orphan girl to get kicked out, would we?"

I opened my mouth to tell her to move, but a dark figure stepped in front of me.

Cal.

He didn't say a word. He just lifted his head, letting the morning sun fall on his heavily bruised, bloody face.

Tamsin’s nasty smile froze.

I watched in pure shock as the color instantly drained from Tamsin’s face. Her arrogant posture crumbled. The books in her arms slipped, crashing loudly onto the stairs. She wasn't just surprised to see a beaten man.

She was terrified.

Tamsin stared at Cal, her jaw trembling. Her eyes darted wildly from him, to me, and back to him. Without saying a single word, she spun around and sprinted into the building, leaving her textbooks scattered on the ground.

I stood completely frozen, staring at the empty doorway.

Cal stepped back, returning to his spot exactly three feet behind me. He leaned forward, his raspy, broken voice whispering right into my ear.

"You thought your aunt was the only one spending your dead father's money, Marlo?" Cal whispered. "You better ask Tamsin who paid her tuition."