Chapter 003—Oh Shit! It's The Rider From Yesterday!

CHLOE’S POV

Smoke drifts along the floor in low, lazy clouds, thick enough that I can’t see my own shoes.

The walls stretch on forever in both directions—no doors, no windows, just endless gray nothing.

I'm in a hallway I don't recognize, and I have no idea when or how I got here.

And then I see him.

The rider from yesterday stands motionlessly in the middle of the hallway, staring at me like a creepy doll possessed by a demon.

“I warned you never to cross paths with me again,” he hisses, his voice echoing through the empty hallway. “I WARNED YOU NEVER TO CROSS PATHS WITH ME AGAIN!”

"ARGGG!!!!" I scream, throwing my hands over my head as I snap my eyes open.

Heat washes over my body as my bedroom comes into view. I clutch my hand to my chest, trying to calm my racing heart while dragging in one shaky breath after another.

Sh*t. It was a fu*king drea—

“Chloe? Are you okay?”

"Arghhh!" The sudden voice beside me makes me scream again. I throw myself backward so hard my spine hits the wall with a thud that probably wakes half the floor.

The figure rushes closer. “What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?”

I throw my hands up, ready to fight for my life against whatever demon has decided 7 a.m. is the perfect time for a home invasion when I finally get a proper look at the person standing in front of me.

Anita.

Of course it’s Anita.

I let out a long, irritated breath and slap her hands away when she tries to check me for injuries.

“Have you lost your mind? Why are you sneaking up on people like a possessed Victorian doll?"

She stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “What has gotten into you? Are you sure you're okay?"

“I’m fine.” I drag a hand down my face. “Completely fine."

Anita looks unconvinced. Her mouth opens like she wants to dig deeper, but then she seems to think better of it.

Instead, she walks to her table, picks up a tray of food, and dumps the entire spread onto mine like she’s making an offering to a particularly difficult god.

I stare at the eggs, toast, fruit, and whatever else she’s decided I need this morning.

This is suspicious. Anita does not serve breakfast. In fact, she barely manages to wake up before noon on a good day, let alone play personal chef.

My eyes narrow as I regard her with suspicion. "What’s going on?”

She beams. Actually beams. I look between her and the food, growing even more suspicious when she practically bounces on her toes.

“Guess.” she says.

I glance around the room, checking for anything out of the ordinary. My eyes land on the hockey jersey draped across her bed like a sacred relic.

Ah. There it is. The plot thickens, and by “thickens” I mean becomes exactly as predictable as I feared.

“Let me guess.”

Anita squeals and practically bounces on her toes.

I deadpan, “Your favourite hockey player is holding a meet-and-greet.”

She squeals louder. “It’s better than that.”

I cross my arms and roll my eyes. "Then what?"

“The Four Angels are coming to Northbridge.” She says it like she’s announcing the second coming. “Sebastian Ryder. Chase Manchester. Logan Bullock. Jeremy Wolfe. They’re actually coming here. In person. Today.”

I pause at the first name. Sebastian Ryder. Something about it snags in the back of my mind, but I can’t place it.

I shrug it off. Probably nothing.

“What’s so extraordinary about four hockey players showing up at our school?”

Anita looks at me like I just asked why water is wet. “Chloe. Be serious.”

“I am being serious. You practically treat hockey players like a public health hazard, remember?"

She waves that away like it’s irrelevant. “That’s different. Those are the ones already here. The Four Angels are… different. They’re actual stars. I’ve followed their games. Watched their interviews. They’re not like the usual disasters walking around in jerseys.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, so you hate hockey players unless they look good on a poster and have sponsorship deals.’ Catchy.”

Anita's smile fades, and she gives me a wounded look. “You make it sound like I'm shallow. I actually admire their talent, you know.”

I stare at her.

She holds the look for approximately three seconds before her face lights up again. "Anyways, They're not just visiting. They've been transferred. As students. Joining our departmentttttttttttt."

She jumps into the air, clapping her hands so enthusiastically that I almost choke on my breakfast. "We’ll be in classes with them!”

I stop chewing, my toast halfway to my mouth. Slowly, I lower it and stare at her.

Nate Cole and the existing hockey circus already provide more than enough campus drama. Now the university has decided to import four more of them and drop them into my department?

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

I let out a low groan. “What did I do in a past life to deserve this? Be specific. I want to know which exact sin is coming back to haunt me.”

Anita is already too far gone to care. She starts gushing about each of them—especially Sebastian—while rushing around the room like a woman possessed, reciting how good-looking they are and how everyone is waiting for their arrival.

Meanwhile, I'm mentally calculating how much a bomb costs.

If the hockey players happen to encounter a 'small accident' on their way here, surely I wouldn't have to spend the rest of my years at Northbridge rolling my eyes at how stupid everyone looks gushing at men who are good at using sticks.

"We need to hurry," Anita squeals, grabbing my arm as she starts pulling. “We need to get to the auditorium before they arrive. Hurry up.”

“I have zero interest in staring at four men who probably think the world revolves around their stick-handling skills," I grunt.

“You’re coming, Chloe."

I know that tone. Refusing only leads to prolonged nagging and possible physical dragging.

"Fine," I grudgingly agree.

Resistance is futile when Anita has decided something is happening.

While I shovel breakfast into my mouth at speed, Anita suddenly asks, “Do you want to talk about Nate?”

I pause mid-chew. Last night flashes through my head in ugly little snapshots: Nate at the bar. Amber’s challenge. Ten thousand dollars or a kiss...

I swallow. “No.”

Anita studies me for a second, then nods. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready.”

I appreciate it more than I show it. Her mood brightens again almost immediately, and she clasps her hands together and continues gushing about the four angels

I roll my eyes and finish the rest of the food in record time. Because nothing says “great start to the day” like being dragged to worship four strangers who skate for a living.

---

The auditorium looks like someone announced free money and a celebrity wedding at the same time.

Students are everywhere—packed into seats, lining the walls, squeezed into every available inch of floor space. Half these people aren’t even from our department.

I scan the chaos with pure disbelief. “Is the university welcoming transfer students or announcing the arrival of minor royalty? Because this feels like a religious revival."

"Don't you get it, Chloe?" Anita exclaims, practically stretching her neck toward the stage like the Four Angels might materialize if she stares hard enough. "They're ridiculously handsome! All four of them! Everyone is dying to see them, and I can't believe we're actually going to be in the same room with them!"

I cut in. “Oh, handsome men. Because that’s always a reliable sign of good character. History is full of examples. So many trustworthy, humble, non-arrogant handsome men.”

Anita rolls her eyes. “They’re different, look."

She shoves her phone into my hand before I can come up with another sarcastic response.

“Just look.”

I take it reluctantly and scroll through a collection of photos. Team jerseys. Game shots. Casual group pictures. Interview stills. Four guys who look like they walked out of a sports magazine and decided campus life needed more testosterone. Shocking.

I barely pay attention at first. My brain is still stuck on the fact that I’m voluntarily sitting in an auditorium full of people who have apparently forgotten how to breathe around athletes.

Then I pause.

One of them looks… familiar.

I zoom in. The player in the middle. Dark hair. Sharp jaw. Eyes that somehow manage to look stormy even in a still photo.

My fingers tighten around the phone.

Wait.

No.

It can’t be.

My heart starts beating faster. I zoom in further. The resemblance is—

The auditorium doors open.

A wave of screams hits the auditorium like a physical force as the students lose their minds in real time. Phones go up higher. People push and jostle for better angles.

Four young men walk into the auditorium together, and then I see him.

The rider.

Same permanent frown. Same cold, unimpressed eyes. Same towering frame that somehow makes everyone else look smaller just by existing near him.

He moves through the chaos like it’s happening in a different room entirely—completely unbothered, completely unimpressed.

The memory of last night slams into me at once: The motorcycle. The demand for an apology. The way he’d snatched my bag. The warning delivered in that low, dangerous voice.

"Never cross paths with me again."

Oh, shit. Oh, double shit. Of all the universities in the entire country.

I curse myself for not connecting the dots sooner. Sebastian Ryder. Of course. The name had felt familiar for a reason. My brain had the information and just… sat on it. Helpful as always.

Meanwhile, Anita is having the best day of her life. She snatches her phone back and starts taking rapid-fire pictures, calling out their names, gushing about how much better they look in person.

I stare at her, wondering how she can be this ecstatic while my entire existence is currently rearranging itself into a nightmare.

The four angels head toward the podium. Some university mascot is already on stage doing an enthusiastic dance routine that no one asked for.

I barely register any of it. My brain is too busy running emergency scenarios, none of which end well for me.

I need to leave. Now. Before he sees me. I look for an exit. The only accessible door is behind the stage—right behind the four of them.

Perfect. The universe really is committed to the bit.

I wait until the mascot does something particularly ridiculous and the students cheer. Then I lower my head and start moving through the rows.

I squeeze past knees. Mutter apologies. Someone steps on my shoe. Another person nearly knocks my phone out of my hand. I bite back a curse and keep moving, doing my best not to attract any more attention than I already have.

I reach the front. The stage is only a few steps from the exit. I glance toward the group one last time. He’s still standing with the others, looking completely uninterested in the excitement surrounding him. His attention seems to be elsewhere, and I have no intention of doing anything that might bring it back to me.

Good. Keep looking elsewhere. One more breath. Then I make a dash for the door.

It swings open from the other side at the exact wrong second.

I don't have time to stop. I push forward, hoping I can slip through before anyone notices m—

BAM!

I slam straight into someone solid, all broad shoulders and toned muscles.

The impact sends me stumbling backward sending the stage equipments crashing loudly against the floor and—

Silence...

The entire auditorium pauses and one by one every heads turn toward me.

SHIT.

Slowly, I lift my gaze toward the figure I crashed into as I struggle to regain my balance.

My heart leaps to my throat when my gaze lands on those storm grey eyes.

Him. The rider from yesterday. The man who told me never to cross his path again.

I have freaking slammed into the rider from yesterday.

Sh*t.

Fu*k. Fu*k, fu*k, fu*k.

I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Instead, I do the only logical thing left.

I make to run.

"Don't even think about it," his cold voice cuts through the silence as I make to escape.

The warning sends a chill down my spine, and I freeze.

Crap.

I'm about to become the main character of my own personal horror story.