Chapter 3: Locker Room Tension

The cage door rattles but doesn't budge.

"Come on." She yanks the latch again. Nothing. The mesh is digging into her shoulder blades and the mascot head is still crooked, so she's stuck staring at the locker room through one eye hole. Rubber floor mats with tape residue on them. A bin of used towels. Someone's jockstrap hanging off a hook near the showers, which is just. Great.

She knows exactly who did this. Trent Lasky and a couple of his frat buddies were cracking up as they shoved her in here after the game. "Team tradition," they'd said. "Rookie mascot gets the cage." Real creative.

"Hello?" She shakes the door. It clangs but stays shut. "Seriously. Let me out."

The post-game crowd noise is muffled through the concrete, a distant roar like a TV left on in another room. She kicks the cage. Hurts her foot more than the door. She kicks it again anyway.

Her hoodie is stuck to her back. Her hair is plastered to her forehead in wet strings. She probably smells like a wet dog that crawled into a gym bag and gave up.

The heavy door at the far end swings open.

Three figures walk in. The room doesn't go silent or anything. It just feels different. Quieter, maybe. Like they'd brought their own atmosphere with them.

Jonah Kline is pacing. He doesn't even glance at the cage at first. Just walks back and forth in front of the benches, running a hand through his hair, breathing hard through his nose.

"I can't shake it," he mutters. "You guys feel that? It's like... I don't know. Something's off."

Silas Vane stops near the showers. He doesn't pace. He looks around the room slowly, like he's checking for something he lost, and then his attention catches on the equipment cage.

"Jonah." Quiet. "The cage."

Martins comes in last. He drops his bag on the bench with a thud and doesn't look at anything. "Probably just leftover adrenaline. We've been off all night. Happens."

"No." Jonah stops pacing and turns toward the cage. "No, it's coming from in there. Whatever that smell is, it's coming from inside."

He walks toward her. Weirdly quiet for a guy that size. Jessie leans back and a zip tie digs into her shoulder blade.

"It's the mascot," Martins says. Flat.

"Take the head off," Jonah says. Not to her, exactly. To whoever he thinks is inside the suit.

"I can't." Her voice comes out muffled and small. "The latch is stuck. Some guys locked me in here as a joke and I can't get out."

Nobody says anything for a second.

Jonah grabs the door. Silas says, "Wait, maybe don't…" but Jonah doesn't wait. He yanks, and metal screams, and then he's holding the entire cage door in one hand like it's made of cardboard. He stares at it. Then he tosses it aside, and it clatters across the rubber floor and bangs into the lockers.

Jessie stares at the bent hinges. Then at Jonah.

"Okay." She steps out carefully, pulling the wolf head off and dropping it. Cool air hits her face and she sucks in a breath. "Nope. Hold on."

She points at the door on the floor. Then at him.

"Did you just. Did you seriously just rip that off?"

Jonah opens his mouth. Closes it. He looks at the door, then at her, then at his own hand like he's not sure what just happened.

"I was supposed to unlock it," he says. "I think."

"You think?"

"It just... came off."

"It didn't come off. You tore it off. That's steel. That's actual metal." She looks at the other two. "Is he on something? Is this a team thing? Do you guys all do that?"

"Adrenaline," Silas says. Calm. Like that explains anything at all.

"That's not adrenaline. That's not a thing. That's not…" She stops. Rubs her forehead with the back of her wrist. "Forget it. I'm leaving."

"You should probably leave," Martins agrees. He doesn't move out of the way.

Jonah is still looking at his hand. "I really didn't mean to do that," he says, more to himself than anyone. "I just wanted to open it. Sorry."

Silas watches Jessie without blinking. He kept looking at her like he was trying to figure something out.

"What?" she says.

He doesn't answer. His gaze drops to her throat.

"You keep doing that," she says. "The staring thing. It's weird."

"Sorry," Silas says. He doesn't stop.

"Martins?" The voice comes from the hallway. Sweet. Sharp. Lila Beaumont.

Everyone freezes. Martins steps back so fast he nearly trips over his own gym bag. Jonah turns away, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly very interested in the locker combination dials. Silas finally looks somewhere else, exhaling through his nose.

The door opens. Lila walks in wearing a coat that probably costs more than Jessie's laptop, carrying one of those expensive coffees like she had somewhere better to be.

"Coach Rorvik is looking for you," she says, and then her eyes land on Jessie. The smile drops. "Oh. It's you. The mascot girl."

"I was just leaving."

"Did you get lost, or were you trying to sneak into the showers?" Lila's mouth curves, not quite a smile. "I've heard about girls like that. Hockey bunnies, right? They'll do anything to get near the team."

Jessie grabs her duffel bag from the bench. "I was locked in a cage."

"That's one way to get attention."

"I didn't…" Jessie stops. Not worth it. "Whatever."

She pushes past, and her shoulder brushes Martins's arm. Her skin tingles where they made contact, a weird shivery feeling that runs all the way down to her fingers.

She keeps walking. Past the lockers, past the showers. Almost to the hallway.

Just before she crosses the threshold, she glances back.

Lila is already draped over Martins's arm, talking about dinner reservations and some restaurant downtown. Jonah is staring at the broken cage door, shaking his head slowly. And Silas…

Silas is still watching her. She realizes he's not looking at her face. He's looking lower. Her throat.

She rubs her neck. It aches there.

Mine.

The word slides through her head. Not hers. Not exactly. And for half a second, in the reflection of the hallway glass, her own eyes flash gold.

Then it's gone.

She runs.