creepy stalker and mysteriously delivered to my backpack.
Scrawled across the bottom of the image in those same spiky letters, this time with a red marker pen, was just one word.
MINE.
Wordlessly, Kody handed the picture to Steele, who stared down at it a moment.
"Shit." Steele summed up all of our thoughts in that one word.
"Uh, that's creepy as fuck," Bree announced, staring at the photo with wide eyes. "What do you think it means?"
Before we had a chance to answer her, an explosion rocked the building, and a hard body slammed into me, pinning me to the floor.
"What the fuck was that?" Bree shrieked, and I struggled to get up again.
I was face down, but somehow I knew who had me pinned. "Get the fuck off me, D'Ath," I hissed. "It was outside."
He didn't move immediately, probably to be a contrary prick, but when I started wriggling, he finally let me free.
"Parking lot," Kody told us, his mouth set in a grim line and his brow furrowed, "that's my guess."
Steele groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. "No. Please don't be from the parking lot."
It took me a second to catch up, but the timing of us looking at that image of Steele and me in the parking lot... beside his car... "Surely not," I muttered.
The five of us—Bree included—rushed toward the parking lot, along with crowds of other students and staff.
We didn't make it far past the front door of the university building, though. From there we could see the tall column of flames rising from the wreckage of Steele's pretty, silver car. Chunks of metal and other debris were scattered all over the grass, and several students were bleeding and screaming, probably having been too close when the explosion went off.
"Holy shit," Bree gaped.
I was fucking speechless. He'd exploded Steele's car with zero regard for collateral damage. Had anyone been seriously hurt? Killed? My stomach rolled as I stared at the mess, wide eyed and horrified.
"Fuck!" Steele shouted, his fist balled as he tried to hit the brick facade of the building. Archer smoothly intercepted, though, taking the full force of Steele's punch in his chest.
"Cool it," Archer said to his friend, his tone not angry or condescending but carrying that strong thread of authority. "I'm not letting you break your fingers when you just started playing again."
Steele looked like he wanted to punch Archer again, deliberately this time, but after a few moments he shouted another curse and stalked away from us, disappearing around the corner of the building.
"This is my fault," I whispered, feeling like a total piece of shit. My stalker had blown up Steele's car—something he obviously cared a lot about—because I hadn't heeded that creepy motherfuckers first warning.
Archer grunted a disgusted sound. "Yeah, it is."
I reeled back like he'd slapped me. My own guilt was bad enough without him rubbing my face in it.
"Shut the fuck up, Arch," Kody snapped. "MK didn't exactly ask to be stalked by a deranged psychopath. Quit being a salty bitch and try being supportive to her before you really fuck shit up."
My jaw unhinged a bit, and Archer's temple vein throbbed as he shot me a lightning fast glance. Somehow, I didn't think I was the only one shocked by Kody's outburst.
"Okay then," Bree commented, grabbing my hand and tugging me away from the two guys radiating testosterone like a heavily applied cologne. "Not to pour fuel on the fire or anything, but is that a message on Archer's car?" She pointed with a slightly shaking finger. The black Corvette Stingray was parked in its usual spot—directly beside Steele's burning wreck—and had taken a huge amount of damage to the closest side. But incredibly, all the windows were unbroken, and across the windshield were four words in what looked sickeningly like blood.
Welcome home, Madison Kate.
7
My day went from bad to worse. After the police finished interviewing, photographing, and documenting, we were finally allowed to go home. Bree drove us because Archer's Corvette was considered evidence, but my curiosity was pricking at me the whole way.
"How did your windows not break?" I asked him, shifting in my seat to meet his gaze. I'd been a bitch and taken the passenger seat, leaving the three massive dudes all squished up in the backseat like a sexy sardine tin.
One brow rose, and he met my gaze with cool detachment. "Bulletproof glass, Princess Danvers. It's also bombproof, when the bomb isn't placed directly on the car itself."