Keira
Mason was awake within seconds of my phone buzzing, reading the message over my shoulder before I'd even fully processed it myself.
"Video," he repeated, voice hard. "What kind of video?"
I didn't know, and neither, apparently, did Jaxon, whose follow-up texts arrived in a rapid, anxious stream over the next few minutes. Someone had hacked or bribed their way into the dorm building's exterior security system and pulled footage from the night before, timestamped and clear enough to show Mason entering the building well after midnight and not leaving until morning.
"They can't post that," I said, dread pooling low in my stomach. "That's an actual privacy violation, not just a paparazzi shot."
"Doesn't mean they won't try," Mason said grimly, already pulling on his shoes. "We need
