Page 55 of Bound to the Dorm Elf
By the time I’m halfway through the campus-wide email, my stomach’s already in a knot.
The subject line is bland —Student Safety Update— but the body has teeth.Be aware of suspicious individuals seen near university property.No names, no specifics, just two bullet points describing “tall male, dark hair, dark coat” and “medium-height male, lighter hair, stocky build.”
It’s vague enough to apply to half the city, but I know better.
Bill and Steve.
I shove my phone onto the desk like it’s burned me and pace the tiny length of my dorm room. The storm outside has fizzled into gray slush, the streets wet and shining, but the tension in the air hasn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it’s worse — like the pressure drop before a real thunderstorm.
“They’re tightening the net,” I say the second Rovax steps out of the bathroom, toweling his hair. “They didn’t just show up at random before — now they’ve got the whole campus on alert.”
He glances at me, unreadable, and sets the towel over the back of my desk chair. “Good. Let them think they are closing in.”
I stare at him. “Good? Did you actually just—? No. No, this is notgood.This is the opposite of good. This is?—”
“This is information,” he cuts in, his voice low but sharp. “Every move they make tells me more about who they are and how they operate.”
“Or it gets you caught,” I snap. “Or killed. Or?—”
He steps closer, enough that I can feel the faint, dry heat radiating off him, the kind of warmth that makes my skin tingle even though I’m still annoyed. “I will not be caught, Skylar.”
“You say that like—” I stop myself, biting back the rest.Like you’re invincible.Like whatever power runs under your skin is enough to beat government agents and human law enforcement and whatever the hell else Bill and Steve are.
He’s watching me like he can see the words I’m not saying. “You think I am reckless,” he says finally.
I huff out a humorless laugh. “I think you’re… you. Which is somehow worse.”
His mouth twitches — not quite a smile, but there’s something there. “Then trust that I know when to fight and when to watch.”
“I’d rather you just stay inside,” I mutter.
He tilts his head. “And wait for them to come to me? No. Better to move first.”
There’s a finality in this voice, a decision already made. I sink onto the bed, pressing my palms into the comforter to keep from shaking him until some sense rattles loose. “And what exactly is ‘moving first’ supposed to look like?”
“Finding out exactly who they work for,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, “and why they want me.”
“You make it sound like they’ll just hand you their business cards.”
“If they don’t,” he says, “there are other ways.”
Other waysmakes my pulse jump. I picture him in one of those dark parking lots, eyes glowing faint red, that low, measured voice dripping with threat — and for a second, I forget to breathe. Not because I want him to do it, but because I know he could.
I rub my forehead. “You know, most people, when they see trouble coming, they avoid it. They don’t…hunt it down.”
“I am not most people.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I’m starting to notice that.”
He crouches down so we’re eye-level, his expression softer now but no less intent. “Skylar. If they want me, they will not stop until they have me. That means I cannot hide forever. I can only choose where and when to meet them.”
“And you thinknowis when?”
“I think now is when I make sure they understand what they are hunting.”
There’s no convincing him. I can see it in the set of his jaw, the way his eyes hold mine like he’s daring me to argue.
And the worst part?
