Page 64 of Eight Count Heat
*Last warning. Stay away from Riverside or everyone finds out what you really are.*
"The RA changed your lock," Gray says, holding up a new key card. "But Reese, you can't stay here tonight. Not after this."
I nod, my words sticking in my throat. The room feels contaminated now, no longer safe. No longer mine.
"Pack a bag," Gray continues, his captain voice gentle but firm. "I'm getting you a hotel room."
"Gray, I can't let you do that."
"It's not a request,” he says with that hard Alpha edge of his. "Someone violated your personal space. Threatened you directly. The team takes care of its own."
Twenty minutes later, I've packed enough clothes and toiletries for several days, carefully avoiding looking at the empty space where my suppressants used to be. Gray carries my bag downstairs while I lock the room behind us, though the gesture feels pointless now. They already got what they came for.
The rain has briefly stopped, leaving the night air crisp and clean. Gray's Range Rover sits in the parking lot, black and pristine. As he loads my bag into the back, I realize this is the first time I've been in a vehicle with him. The first time I've been anywhere with him, really, outside of team activities.
"There's a Hawthorne Inn about ten minutes from campus," he says as we pull out of the parking lot. "Clean, safe, good security. I've already called and reserved a room."
"For how long?"
"However long you need." He glances at me as we stop at a red light. "This isn't just about tonight, Reese. Whoever did this escalated things. They're not going to stop just because you're staying somewhere else."
The certainty in his voice makes my stomach clench. He's right, of course. This isn't going away.
We drive in silence for several minutes, the campus lights blurring past my window. I should feel grateful for Gray's help, for his immediate response to protect me. Instead, I feel trapped by it. Another layer of complication in an already impossible situation.
"Why don't you have a car?" Gray asks suddenly.
The question is shocking enough to drag me out of my thoughts. "What?"
"Most students have cars, especially ones from... backgrounds like yours." He says it carefully, acknowledging my family's wealth without making it sound like an accusation. "You walk everywhere, catch rides with teammates. Just seems unusual."
I stare out the passenger window, weighing how much truth I can afford to share. "The campus is small. Everything in town is within walking distance. It didn't seem necessary."
It's not entirely a lie, but it's not the whole truth either. The whole truth is that my parents have tracking devices in all their vehicles. A security measure, they claim, though I know it's really about control. If I had my car on campus, they'd know exactly where I am at all times. They'd have discovered my transfer to Sable Ridge within days.
"Makes sense," Gray says, but there's something in his tone that suggests he doesn't entirely buy my explanation.
The Hampton Inn appears ahead, its blue and white sign glowing in the darkness. Gray pulls into the parking lot and kills the engine.
"I'll come in with you," he says. "Make sure everything's settled."
"You don't have to do that."
"Reese." He turns to face me fully, steel gray eyes serious. "Someone broke into your room today. Went through your personal belongings. Left a direct threat. I'm not leaving you alone in a hotel lobby at ten PM."
I bite my lip and nod. I know it's just Gray's way of taking care of the team, but it still makes me feel some kind of way. It makes me feel things Ireallydon't need right now.
The check-in process is efficient and anonymous. Exactly what I need right now. Gray handles the payment despite my protests, his black American Express card making the transaction seamless. The desk clerk hands over a key card and parking pass with professional indifference.
"Room 314," Gray reads from the receipt. "Third floor, elevator's around the corner."
The room is standard hotel fare. A single queen bed, small table by the window, bathroom with industrial-grade towels. But it's clean and secure and, most importantly, mine. No one else has a key. No one else can get in.
"Thank you," I say as Gray sets my bag on the luggage rack. "For all of this. I'll pay you back later."
"Don't." His voice is firm. "This isn't a loan, Reese. It's what teammates do for each other."
I study his face, looking for hidden motives or expectations. Gray Lockwood, for all his controlling tendencies, has never asked for anything in return for his help. Never made me feel like I owe him.
