Unknown

SHADOWS AND SECRETS

KEVIN

Alistair Finch’s public record was a fortress. It was too clean, too perfect, polished to a shine that blinded anyone looking too closely. But I knew better. In the world of high-stakes business, nobody is that clean. Not if they’re human. The only reason he appeared flawless was that a man that careful doesn't leave his secrets in digital archives where hackers like me can find them. He keeps them close. He keeps them physical.

Passive research was over. The time for staring at screens had passed. It was time to take a real risk.

As dusk settled over the campus, painting the sky in bruises of purple and grey, I put my plan into motion. I made my way to the side of the Business Faculty building, my senses dialed up to high alert. The distant, carefree laughter of students heading to dinner, the dry rustle of autumn leaves skittering across the pavement, the low, electric hum of an air conditioning unit... every sound was magnified, threatening to expose me.

I reached the window of his office. It was tucked away in a landscaped alcove. Perfect. I pulled a thin, flexible shim from my wallet, it was a tool I’d crafted myself and slid it into the gap between the window and the sill. I worked it upward against the latch, feeling for the slightest give, the metal biting into my fingertips. For a tense moment, nothing happened. The mechanism was stiff with age.

Then, with a soft, satisfying click, the lock disengaged.

I froze for a second. Clear. Taking a deep breath to steady the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I slid the window open just enough to squeeze through. I swung my legs over the sill, bracing my weight on my hands, and landed silently on the plush carpet inside.

The office was pitch black, smelling faintly of old books, lemon polish, and expensive, spicy cologne. It was the scent of the man who destroyed my father.

I pulled the window shut behind me, plunging the room into near-total darkness. I stood there for a moment, letting my eyes adjust. I was in. I was inside the enemy’s sanctuary.

And now, the real hunt could begin. A grim smile tugged at my lips. This is fun.

I moved to the desk, ignoring the perfectly aligned awards on the wall. I wasn't here for trophies and I knew whatever I was looking for, he'd keep it close. I ran my hands along the underside of the heavy mahogany desk, searching for a switch, a button, anything. My fingers brushed against a slight irregularity in the wood paneling near the floor. I pressed it.

The click of the hidden lock echoing in the silent office sounded like a gunshot.

I froze, my hand hovering over the hidden panel I’d just discovered behind the desk. Before I could look inside, a sound cut through the silence.

Footsteps. Heavy, rhythmic, and getting louder.

Security.

My blood ran cold. I didn’t have time to check the compartment. I shoved the wooden panel back into place, ensuring it clicked shut, and scrambled toward the window. My heart hammered against my ribs out of necessity. Getting caught wasn't an option. If they ID’d me, the mission was over before it started.

I slid the window up just enough to squeeze through, vaulting over the sill and landing in a crouch on the soft earth outside. I pulled the sash down, leaving it just a hair open just enough to look like a mistake by a careless cleaner, not a break-in.

I let out a breath. I was clear. I was safe.

Then I heard a gasp.

I whipped my head around. Ten feet away, standing frozen on the concrete path, clutching her bag like a lifeline, was Mia.

Fuck!

Her eyes were wide with shock, staring right at me. She opened her mouth, likely to ask what the hell I was doing dropping out of a professor's window. At the same moment, the beam of a flashlight swept around the corner of the building, cutting through the darkness like a blade.

Instinct took over. I didn't think; I moved.

I lunged at her. Before she could scream, I wrapped an arm around her waist and clamped my other hand over her mouth, dragging her backward into the deep, stone alcove of the building’s side entrance.

We hit the wall hard. I pressed my body fully against hers, trapping her between the cold stone and my chest, effectively shielding her from view with my own body.

"Shh," I hissed into her ear, my voice barely a vibration. "Not. A. Sound."

MIA

By the time my last class of the day ended, the exhaustion hit me like a physical weight. The sun was setting, casting long, stretching shadows across the campus as students headed to the dining halls or libraries. All I wanted was the quiet of my room. I needed to reset my brain after the chaos of the last twenty-four hours.

I was cutting across the main quad, taking a shortcut past the Business Faculty building. I knew students weren't technically allowed here past working hours, but give me a break. My feet hurt, and I just wanted a shortcut.

Everything happened in a blur. I had seen a figure drop from the professor's window like a ghost, landing with impossible grace. I had gasped, realizing who it was. And then a wall of solid muscle had slammed into me.

One second I was walking back to my room, thinking about finally getting a rest, and the next, I was pinned against a rough brick wall by Kevin, his hand clamped firmly over my mouth.

My breath came in shallow bursts against Kevin's hand, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. But beneath the fear, a rush of adrenaline-fueled need clenched tight in my core. This was my fantasy made flesh: his dominance overwhelming, his body controlling every inch of space, every tremor in my body.

But reality twisted it darker. As I looked up at him in the shadows, his eyes didn't just hold the lust I had dreamed of. They burned with fury and fear. Revenge shadowed his features, the weight of whatever Finch had done carving deep lines of torment into his jaw. He wasn't playing a game; he was at war.

Footsteps paused nearby, the guard muttering something into his radio. Kevin went rigid against me. To steady my shaking legs—or maybe to ensure I didn't run—he wedged his thigh firmly between mine, pinning me to the wall. The pressure sent sparks shooting up my spine, the friction against the seam of my jeans making my center throb with a sudden, aching pulse.

Oh God.

I wanted to grind down, to seek relief from the building pressure, but his glare pinned me as surely as his body. Emotional chaos churned inside me—terror of getting caught and a raw, aching desire that made me damp and desperate. Why was he here, lurking like this?

The light passed, footsteps receding into the distance as the guard moved on. Kevin didn't release me immediately. His hand lingered over my mouth, his thumb brushing my lower lip in a rough caress that made me whimper softly against his palm.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. His hips were still locked to mine, and I could feel the rigid length of him pulsing against my stomach, betraying his own restrained anger. He wasn't unaffected. He was just as wrecked as I was.

"You have a bad habit of seeing things you shouldn't, Mia," he growled low, his voice rough with turmoil.

He pulled his hand from my mouth, but didn't step back. His eyes searched mine, a storm of conflict raging—protectiveness warring with his need to push me away.

My hands fisted in his shirt, feeling the rapid thud of his heart mirroring my own chaos. I needed answers, even if I was terrified of them.

"You were breaking in," I managed to whisper back, my voice shaky. "Into Finch's office."

The proximity was torture. His scent—clean soap, dark coffee, and night air—enveloped me. The subtle shift of his thigh rubbed just enough to tease my aching entrance through the fabric, driving me insane.

"Who are you?" I asked, breathless.

"I'm the guy telling you to walk away," he murmured, frustration etching his features. His gaze dropped to my parted lips, hungry and desperate, then snapped back up to my eyes, dark with a mix of desire and dread. He shifted, the movement dragging his thigh higher, pressing directly against my pulsing heat.

A jolt ripped through me, my core fluttering as moisture soaked my panties. I gasped, unable to hide the reaction.

"Forget you saw me here," he continued, his voice strained, tightening as if every word cost him something. His free hand gripped my hip to hold me still, fingers digging in with possessive force. "Forget my name. Forget everything. This was a mistake."

"And if I don't?" I whispered. My voice was breathy, challenging him even as my body betrayed my turmoil—legs trembling, core aching for more friction, mind reeling from the danger and his raw vulnerability.

A bitter smirk ghosted his lips, but his eyes betrayed the fracture inside him: grief for his lost father, hatred for Finch, and a flicker of longing for this connection he couldn't allow. He lowered his head, lips hovering so close I felt the warmth of his breath on my skin, but he held back, the torment etching deeper lines around his eyes.

His hips rocked subtly once, involuntarily, grinding into my softness and drawing a soft, broken moan from my throat.

"Then I won't be able to keep you safe," he rasped, his voice breaking on the edge of desperation. "And trust me, Mia... you don't want to be involved in my mess."

His grip tightened on my hip, thumb circling in a way that mirrored the tension coiling in my belly, but then he pulled back just enough to create agonizing space, leaving my body humming with unspent need and my heart aching with the weight of his unspoken pain.

He held my gaze for one last, agonizing second, the air thick with unresolved hunger and heartache. Then he pushed off the wall and melted into the shadows, leaving me slumped against the cold bricks, thighs slick and quivering, my lips tingling from a kiss that never happened.