Chapter 3 3

Delilah's POV

The walk back to her dorm should have been peaceful. The campus pathways were quiet, lined with tall trees whose bare branches stretched toward the winter sky. The air carried the crisp bite of the coming cold, but Delilah barely felt it.

Too many thoughts crashed into each other, refusing to settle.

Mason Holt.

She rolled the name around in her mind, trying to see if it triggered anything. It didn't. No clear memories, no familiar faces. Just a lingering unease that wouldn't go away.

Theo had done something to him-handled it, in his words. That should have reassured her. Instead, it only left more questions.

What exactly had he done?

And why did it feel like this wasn't over?

Reaching her dorm, Delilah pulled out her key and pushed the door open. The room was just as she left it-messy, lived-in, normal. But the second she stepped inside, a chill ran down her spine.

Something was off.

Her backpack sat by the desk where she had tossed it yesterday. Her bed was unmade, blankets still half on the floor. Nothing looked disturbed.

But the air felt wrong.

She checked the door again, pressing her fingers against the lock. It was intact. No signs of forced entry.

Shaking off the feeling, she grabbed her hoodie and yanked it over her head. Maybe she was just paranoid. Maybe last night had messed with her more than she wanted to admit.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She grabbed it, expecting another message from Theo. Instead, an unknown number flashed across the screen.

Unknown: You should forget about last night.

Her stomach twisted.

The message came with no name, no warning, just a cold, blunt demand.

Another vibration.

Unknown: Stay quiet, and no one gets hurt.

A sharp breath pushed past her lips.

The air in the room felt heavier now, the walls pressing in.

Someone was watching her.

Theo's POV

The weight of a long day settled into Theo's shoulders, but he ignored it. His focus was locked on the ice, skates cutting sharp lines as he pushed himself harder, faster. The cold air burned his lungs, sweat trailing down his spine beneath his gear.

Repetition, precision, control.

Everything he needed to clear his mind.

His body moved on instinct, the rhythm of the game ingrained into him after years of training. The sound of the puck slamming against the boards barely registered. He should have been thinking about the next play, about the upcoming championship. Instead, one thought kept pushing to the surface.

Delilah.

She had that look in her eyes today-the same one he had seen last night, right before she threw the first punch. A mixture of defiance and something deeper, something darker.

She wasn't letting this go.

Theo skated toward the bench, shoving his helmet off. The guys were still running drills, but he had done enough for the night.

Pulling his phone from his bag, he checked his messages. Nothing from Delilah. That wasn't like her.

His fingers hesitated over the screen before he typed.

Theo: You good?

No response.

Tension coiled in his chest.

After another moment, he grabbed his gear and headed for the locker room. He wasn't the kind of guy to hover, but something told him she needed backup.

And if he was right?

Then things were about to get worse.

Delilah's POV

Her fingers hovered over her phone screen, heart pounding.

The words from the unknown number stared back at her, a silent warning that felt too personal. Too direct.

Someone wanted her to forget... And that meant someone was scared.

Instead of replying, she took a steadying breath and did the only thing that made sense-she called Theo.

The line rang twice before he picked up.

"You okay?" His voice was sharp, alert.

"I got a message." Her voice came out steady, but her hands were shaking. "From an unknown number."

Silence stretched between them for a beat.

"What did it say?"

"Forget about last night. Stay quiet." She swallowed. "Or someone gets hurt."

A curse came through the receiver, low and controlled.

"I'm coming over," Theo said, no room for argument in his tone.

Delilah didn't stop him. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

Instead, she sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the words on her screen, knowing one thing for certain.

Whoever sent this message had made a mistake.

They thought she was the kind of girl who scared easily... They were wrong.