Offside Hearts

The First Threat

Sienna

I stared at the message until the words began to blur together.

Delete the recording.

This is your only warning.

A cold shiver ran through me. My apartment suddenly felt too quiet, and every small sound made me jump.

The refrigerator hummed in the kitchen, a car drove past outside, and somewhere in the building a door slammed shut. Normally, I wouldn't have paid attention to any of those things, but tonight every noise sounded like danger knocking at my door.

I looked at the unknown number again, hoping I could recognize it somehow, but there was nothing. No name. No profile picture. Just a string of numbers I had never seen before. I typed a reply, asking who they were, then stopped myself before pressing send. Whoever had sent the message already knew enough about me. I wasn't about to tell them they had succeeded in frightening me.

Instead, I took screenshots of both messages and saved them beside the recording. Then I forwarded them to my email before switching my phone to silent. My hands were still shaking, but at least I was thinking clearly again. If someone wanted that recording badly enough to threaten me, then it had to contain something important.

Sleep never came.

I spent most of the night sitting on the couch with every light in the apartment turned on. Every few minutes I looked through the blinds, convinced I would see someone watching the building. By morning, my eyes burned from exhaustion, and my head ached from thinking about the same questions over and over again.

The next morning, I arrived on campus earlier than usual.

Students filled the walkways, laughing and talking as though nothing had happened. Some wore hockey jerseys from the rivalry game, while others stood outside the student center discussing last night's gala. Looking at them made me wonder if I was the only person carrying a secret that could change everything.

Professor Monroe was already waiting when I reached the newsroom.

One look at my face was enough for him to know I hadn't slept.

You got my message? He asked quietly.

I got something.

His expression immediately became serious.

What do you mean?

Without saying a word, I handed him my phone. He read the two messages carefully before giving them back. I watched the concern settle across his face as he read them a second time.

When did these arrive?

Less than an hour after I got home.

He looked around the newsroom to make sure no one was close enough to hear us.

Come into my office.

I followed him inside and closed the door behind me.

He remained silent for a long moment before speaking.

Has anyone else seen these?

My roommate is away visiting her parents, so no.

“Good.”

He folded his arms and leaned against his desk.

From this moment on, you don't tell anyone about the recording. Not your classmates. Not your friends. Not even people you trust. The fewer people who know, the better.

I frowned.

Shouldn't we report this to campus security?

We will.

He nodded slowly.

But first I want to know exactly what we are dealing with. Anonymous threats usually come from people who are afraid of something. I want to know what they are afraid of.

His calmness made me feel slightly better, but the fear hadn't disappeared.

What if they come after me again?

“They probably will.”

His answer caught me off guard.

But this time, you will be ready.

Before I could ask what he meant, there was a knock on the office door.

A student assistant stepped inside.

Professor, Coach Daniels is here.

Professor Monroe looked surprised.

I will be right there.

The assistant left, closing the door behind him.

I turned toward the window just in time to see a group of hockey players walking across the courtyard outside. They were laughing about something, completely unaware that someone had dragged their team into a dangerous secret.

Then I saw Luca.

He wasn't laughing.

He was standing a few steps away from the others, looking directly toward the Journalism Building.

For one brief second, our eyes met through the window.

Something about the expression on his face made my stomach tighten.

He looked worried.

Not for himself.

For me.

Before I could understand why, he reached into his pocket, looked down at his phone, and his expression changed completely.

The warmth disappeared from his face.

His jaw tightened.

Without another word, he turned and walked away from his teammates.

I had no way of knowing it then...

But at that exact moment, Luca Hayes

Had just received a message of his own.

“Stay away from the journalist.”