Chapter 2

Valeria Monroe's POV

The coffee shop loomed in front of me, a beacon of normalcy in the chaos brewing inside my head. Pushing open the door, I was greeted by the familiar scent of roasted beans and vanilla, a sharp contrast to the storm of unease swirling in my chest.

Sliding into a corner booth, I pulled out my notebook, pretending I could focus on anything but the conversation replaying in my mind. Jasper's words echoed like a challenge. "People like Calloway don't get caught unless they want to be."

My fingers tightened around my pen. He was right- Calloway was meticulous, controlled. If he had something to hide, he wouldn't be careless. But he had been. I had heard him. That meant something.

A barista set a cup of tea in front of me, her smile soft. "On the house. You look like you need it."

Murmuring a quiet thanks, I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into my skin. If I was going to figure this out, I needed more than a vague suspicion. I needed proof.

Digging my phone out of my bag, I scrolled through my emails, searching for the one Calloway had sent earlier that day. His office hours were listed-Tuesday and Thursday evenings, after most students had cleared out.

A reckless idea formed before I could talk myself out of it. If there was anything to find, it would be there.

Jasper Kane's POV

The streetlights flickered, casting jagged shadows along the cracked pavement. My bike rumbled beneath me, a steady growl against the quiet night. Valeria Monroe wasn't my problem, but something about the way she looked when she told me about Calloway stuck with me. She wasn't just curious. She was afraid.

Pulling into the alley behind The Rusted Nail, I killed the engine and leaned against the seat, letting the hum of the city settle around me.

A familiar voice cut through the quiet. "Didn't think you'd show tonight."

Elliot Grayson stepped out of the shadows, his sharp features illuminated by the neon bar sign. He was one of the few people I trusted-mostly because he didn't ask questions he didn't want answers to.

I smirked. "Didn't think I'd need to."

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "But something changed."

Fishing out a cigarette, I lit it, exhaling slowly before answering. "Ever heard anything shady about Professor Calloway?"

A low whistle slipped through Elliot's teeth. "That's not a name I expected to hear."

I narrowed my eyes. "That a yes?"

He hesitated, glancing around before stepping closer. "Nothing concrete, but rumors? Yeah. Whispers about money going places it shouldn't. Connections that don't add up."

The cigarette burned between my fingers, embers crackling in the silence. "And you never thought to mention this before?"

Elliot scoffed. "Didn't think you cared about college politics."

I didn't. But Valeria Monroe did.

Grinding the cigarette beneath my boot, I pushed off the bike. "Find out what you can. Discreetly."

Elliot smirked. "And what do you get out of this?"

The image of Valeria, eyes filled with uncertainty yet stubbornly determined, flickered through my mind.

"Just call it curiosity."

Valeria's POV

The hallway outside Calloway's office stretched long and empty, the silence pressing against my ears. A single strip of light seeped from beneath the door, proof that he was still inside.

Each step toward his office felt like crossing a line I couldn't erase. But the need for answers pushed me forward.

Stopping just short of the door, I pressed my back against the cool wall and listened. Muffled voices. Calloway wasn't alone. Leaning closer, I held my breath.

"-not an issue unless someone starts asking questions."

A second voice, lower and sharper, responded. "Then make sure no one does."

A chill crawled down my spine.

Calloway sighed, frustration clear in his tone. "I can only control so much. If it comes out-"

"It won't." The second man's voice left no room for argument. "Not if you do your job."

Footsteps creaked against the wooden floor. Panic surged in my chest.

I ducked around the corner just as the door swung open. Holding my breath, I risked a glance.

A man in a tailored suit strode past, his presence cold and imposing. Calloway followed a second later, tension visible in his clenched jaw. Neither of them saw me.

I waited until their footsteps faded before slipping toward the door, pulse hammering against my ribs. If there was something to find, it had to be now. The handle turned easily. He hadn't locked it. Swallowing my nerves, I stepped inside.

Calloway's office was immaculate, everything in its perfect place. But order was a facade. Secrets were buried beneath polished surfaces.

Moving quickly, I scanned his desk. Papers stacked neatly. A locked drawer beneath. A laptop sat open, screen dark but not powered down. Heart pounding, I pressed a key. The screen flickered to life, revealing an email inbox.

One message stood out, marked with a red flag.

Subject: Containment Measures

The preview text sent a jolt of adrenaline through me. The situation is under control, but precautions must be taken. If the student suspects anything, we handle it immediately.

The student.

My stomach twisted. They weren't talking about just anyone. They were talking about me. Fingers shaking, I reached for my phone. The moment I snapped a picture of the screen, the office light flickered. Footsteps echoed outside the door. I barely had time to react before the handle started to turn.

Jasper's POV

The sight of Valeria Monroe sneaking out of Calloway's office wasn't something I expected to see when I walked toward the library.

Her movements were quick, controlled, but her eyes held the sharp glint of panic. I stepped into her path before she could disappear down the hall.

Her breath hitched. "Move."

I didn't. "Tell me what you found."

She hesitated, her grip tightening around her phone. "Nothing that concerns you."

I arched an eyebrow. "Then why do you look like you just saw a ghost?"

The conflict in her expression flickered too fast for her to hide. She wasn't used to this-secrets, danger. I took a step closer, lowering my voice. "You don't have to trust me, Monroe. But you might need me."

She swallowed hard, indecision warring in her gaze.

A sharp voice cut through the hallway. "Miss Monroe?"

Calloway.

Her entire body went rigid. I made the decision for her. Grabbing her wrist, I pulled her into the nearest supply closet, shutting the door just before Calloway rounded the corner. The space was tight, darkness swallowing us whole. Her breathing was uneven, heart pounding loud enough that I could hear it.

I leaned down, my voice barely a whisper. "Still think this doesn't concern me?"