Page 47 of The Scout

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening on the pool’s edge.

Were they just … taking over for Ryker? Watching me the way they would have for Will? Or was it something else?

Something more?

The thought sent a strange thrill cascading down my spine, pooling in my stomach like a warning. Or maybe like an opportunity.

Because Ryker had been jealous of the Citadel guys. What would he do if he was jealous of his own guys? Two of them, his brothers. What would he do if he realized that I wasn’t just his to claim?

I floated for a moment, letting the saltwater cradle me, my limbs weightless, my mind drifting somewhere between exhaustion and a strange, buzzing awareness. The early patio lights shimmered over the rippling surface, catching on the edges of my body as I kicked gently, sending soft waves outward.

And then—I felt their eyes.

Marcus.

Noah.

Charlie.

Still watching. Still tracking my every movement.

A slow heat crept up my neck as I realized just how exposed I was. The oversized white t-shirt I had borrowed clung to my skin, soaked through and completely transparent, leaving very little to the imagination.

And worse—my nipples were hard, aching, straining against the wet fabric.

The heaviness of the night air, the warm water against my bare skin, the undeniable attention of the men lounging poolside—all of it sent a slow, traitorous pulse through my body.

I swallowed, shifting slightly, but that only made the fabric cling tighter, making me more aware of just how visible I was.

I wondered if they had noticed.

No.

I knew they had.

16

RYKER

Iwas unraveling.

Isabel was gone. Will was missing. And I was stuck in this fucking house, pacing like an animal that had just realized the cage door was welded shut.

It felt like before.

Like him.

One second, my father had been there—larger than life, unshakable. The next, gone. No warning. No time to prepare. Just sudden, awful, heart-wrenching absence.

My hands flexed at my sides as I forced myself to breathe. Will wasn’t dead. I couldn’t think like that. But Isabel—she had run, and not knowing where she was, not seeing her, had my pulse slamming against my ribs.

I needed air.

The house felt too goddamn small, so I stepped outside, the heavy night heat settling against my skin. The glow of the pool cast long, shifting shadows across the deck, the soft rippling of water the only sound in the quiet.

And then I saw them.

Marcus, Noah, and Charlie lounged in the chairs near the deep end, drinks in hand, their posture too damn relaxed.

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