004

Chapter 4 

  

Sienna

I searched every possible place. Under the desk. Beside the chair. Across the floor. Behind the nearest filing cabinets. Nothing. The envelope had simply vanished. I had set it down right there on the athletic coordinator’s desk only minutes earlier. How could it disappear that fast?

Panic started tightening in my chest. This made no sense. Something was wrong. I needed to get out of the building immediately.

I left the administrative office and moved quickly down the hallway. The farther I got from that empty desk, the stronger the unease became. It was irrational, yet with every step I felt as though someone was nearby—watching, following. The school that had always felt familiar suddenly felt anything but empty.

The corridors stretched out in front of me, long and dim, lit only by a handful of weak ceiling lights that threw distorted shadows across the floor. I had never stayed this late on campus before, and for the first time I understood how unsettling the place became once the last student left. My heart rate climbed. Then it doubled. By the time I reached the main hallway, full panic had taken over. I had no idea what was happening, but every instinct I possessed was screaming at me to run.

So I ran.

I broke into a full sprint, my shoes slamming against the tile and echoing through the deserted corridors as I raced toward the nearest exit. My breathing turned ragged. My pulse pounded so hard in my ears that the rest of the world faded into a dull roar.

Then something yanked hard on the back of my hoodie.

A sharp gasp tore from my throat as my body jerked backward. Before I could process the movement, strong hands locked around me and my back slammed against a row of lockers with a painful metallic thud. The impact rattled through my bones. My breath caught as I realized I was trapped—arms pinned at my sides, nowhere to move.

I looked up.

My eyes widened.

Of every person who could have been in this building, why was *he* here? Why was he still at school at this hour?

For a moment I could only stare at him in pure disbelief. He stared right back. A slow smirk curved across his mouth, and something about the expression sent a cold ripple down my spine. In the low light his eyes looked darker than usual, almost black, and the intensity in them made my stomach twist. The smile was not friendly. It was not playful. It was the smile of someone who had finally caught what he was hunting.

The longer I looked at him, the more unhinged he appeared. The way he stood over me. The way he had cornered me against the lockers. Everything about the moment felt wrong. Then again, anyone lingering in an empty school after hours would have felt wrong right then.

I immediately tried to wrench myself free, twisting hard and shoving against his chest. It did nothing. I was completely pinned. My back stayed pressed to the cold metal, his hands locked around my elbows while his body blocked every possible escape. Each time I struggled he simply tightened his grip, making it impossible to break away.

“Caught you, little bird.”

His voice was low, amused, and far too satisfied. He stepped even closer, deliberately erasing the last of the space between us. He towered over me by a ridiculous amount, forcing me to tip my head back just to meet his eyes. He was still wearing his hockey jersey, the fabric slightly wrinkled from practice, and his dark hair was a complete mess, as though he had been running his hands through it for hours. Despite the disheveled look, he radiated complete control. That smirk never left his face. If anything, it widened.

My jaw clenched as I jerked against his hold again. “Have you lost your mind? Let me go!”

He smiled.

Then Damian Rhodes laughed.

The sound echoed down the empty hallway while he watched me fight his grip like I was putting on a private show for him. I had barely spoken a word to him all year, but maybe the rumors had been accurate after all—the stories, the warnings, the quiet comments about how unstable he could be. Maybe he really was a psychopath. Or maybe he simply enjoyed acting like one. Either way, I refused to let him intimidate me.

“Little bird lose her way tonight?” he asked, voice smooth and deep.

There it was again. That ridiculous nickname. And the worst part was how amused he sounded, as if he were genuinely enjoying every second of this.

Damian Rhodes had transferred to our school a little over a year ago and had immediately turned the entire hockey program upside down. He was the current team captain, the school’s top player, and Lucas Kane’s number-one rival. The two of them hated each other with a public, simmering intensity.

“I am serious, Damian. This isn’t funny.”

Something in my tone finally registered. His smile faded. A second later his hands released my arms.

The sudden freedom almost caught me off guard. I stepped away at once, rubbing the sore spots on my elbows.

“Crazy asshole,” I muttered under my breath, then turned and started walking.

This had been my first real interaction with Damian Rhodes during our entire senior year. And honestly? I believed every rumor now. Every single one. Not that he had ever tried hard to hide his reputation. But hearing the stories and experiencing him in person were two completely different things. Until tonight I had only known him as the intimidating hockey captain everyone whispered about. Now I understood exactly why people looked at him the way they did.

I was halfway down the hallway when his voice stopped me cold.

“Funny.”

I froze.

“Funny is what you wrote in this note.”

His voice had dropped lower—dangerously low.

My entire body went rigid. Slowly I turned around.

And my eyes widened.

Damian was holding an envelope in one hand.

*My* envelope.

The same envelope I had left on the coordinator’s desk. The same envelope that had vanished into thin air only minutes earlier.

For a second I could only stare at it. Then my gaze lifted to his face.

No.

No way.

Damian Rhodes had taken it.

The realization made my stomach drop straight through the floor.

“Why do you have that?” I demanded, already marching back toward him.

He merely smirked—a slow, infuriating curve of his mouth. God, I wanted to wipe it off his face. He looked down at me with open amusement. The jerk was ridiculously tall.

“No, little bird,” he said lazily, lifting the envelope a fraction higher. “The real question is why you were leaving scandalous evidence against your boyfriend on the coordinator’s desk.”

He took one slow step forward. Then another. Until he stood far too close again.

His face dipped toward mine, eyes locked on my expression as though he were searching for every secret I was trying to hide.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asked.

The corner of his mouth lifted. That smug smile was back.

And somehow, with his face only inches from mine and that envelope dangling b

etween his fingers, he looked far more dangerous than he had when he had pinned me against the lockers.