Keeping her head down and her steps fast, Beverly wandered past another idling car. Not for the first time, she scolded herself internally for not calling Francis and asking for a ride; the man would've been willing, she knew. The only reason she hadn't contacted him was because she didn't want to be a burden, but she realized at that moment that calling someone for a ride was probably preferable over having them called to identify her dead body.

And, her brain piped up helpfully, you're also breaking that promise you made to Griffin. You know, the one where you said you wouldn't come down to this area without him?

Oh, hush. Griffin wouldn't even pick up if we called him, anyway.

She didn't know that for sure, of course, but she had a good feeling that was the case. The last contact she'd had with the man who may or may not have been her boyfriend had been the text she'd sent him on Christmas morning: Merry Christmas; hope you're well.

To which Griffin had so kindly replied, Thanks.

Beverly's grip unknowingly tightened on the wrapped package in her grip. It hurt, of course, that Griffin seemed capable of forgetting all about her, while she thought of him daily. On some level, though, she supposed she understood.

Even though they'd (possibly, maybe) been dating, they'd only known one another for several months, whereas Cynthia had been in Griffin's life since his birth—it made sense that he would stand up for his godmother, and Beverly admired him more for it. Besides, if someone had wronged one of her family members, she probably would've acted the same way.

Shaking herself of her thoughts, Beverly blew out a shuddered breath, looking up at the door in front of her as though it was about to come to life and swallow her whole. She set down his present, leaning it against the door before straightening up and knocking three times.

Footsteps echoed on the other side of the door, and Beverly rushed away. She waited in the shadows underneath the staircase, listening intently as the door above her swung open with a creak. It didn't close right away, though, and she heard his feet as they padded on the wooden planks above her.

"Beverly?" but God, she'd missed his voice. "Beverly?" Griffin waited several more beats, and then there was a weighted sigh, followed by the crinkling of wrapping paper and the gentle closing of a door as he went back inside with the present.

Smiling to herself for a job well done, Beverly emerged from underneath the stairs, gazing up at Griffin's apartment door with a crooked smile. So maybe their relationship would never be repaired, and yeah, that sucked, but it was nice to know that he'd called out for her.

Grasping onto the straps of her backpack, she spun around, only to stop in her tracks abruptly. A young man stood in front of her, his beefy arms crossed over his chest, his eyes promising trouble.

I can't believe I came here by myself; I am an absolute idiot.

"Huh," he mused, his eyes doing a slow sweep of her entire body. "No duffel today, I see."

With her heart pounding in her ears, Beverly realized why he looked vaguely familiar: it was the same man who'd run into her several days ago and complimented Deb's duffel bag.

Oh, God.

"It's a shame it's missing," he continued with a wolfish grin. "Ah, well. Tell Deborah I said 'hello,' will you? I'll be visiting soon; maybe I'll get lucky, and you'll be there as well."

At the reminder of her roommate, and how erratic the girl had been acting lately, Beverly felt anger build up in her gut. "Leave Deb alone," she snapped. "You have no business being at our school, and I don't want to see you there again."

His dark eyes sparked with something unreadable, and he threw his head back and laughed brightly. "I like you more than Deb." He declared once he had calmed. "She's a bit of bitch, though I'm sure you know that."

Beverly did know that, but she also knew that only she was allowed to think of Deb that way—after all, she was the one who had to room with the other girl.

"Don't talk about Deb like that, and don't ever come near either one of us again." And then Beverly stormed past him, her adrenaline pumping viciously through her blood. She'd later regret being so outspoken to a man who could probably kill her, she was sure, but she'd deal with that when it came to pass.

Once she was out of earshot, she whipped out her cellphone, hitting Call and pressing the device to her ear. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that the man hadn't moved and was watching her with a devious smirk on his face.

"Deb," she hissed when the other girl picked up, "we have a bit of a situation."

***

"And you're sure it was him?" Deb asked for the fifth time, her gaze sharp as she regarded Beverly from her spot on her bed.

Jiggling the doorknob to ensure that it was locked (and would hopefully stay that way, though the door was old and unreliable at best), Beverly blew out an exasperated breath. "Yes, Deb, I'm sure. Does this guy have a name?"

"I'm not going to tell you—"

"No!" Beverly snapped, spinning on her heel and glaring down at the other girl over her nose. "I am done with this vague crap. I'm obviously involved now, whether you like it or not, and I want answers."

Normally, Beverly was good about remaining patient with others. But this situation had gone on for far too long and was clearly escalating beyond Deb's control; something had to be done.

Deb's lips pursed angrily, and her eyes spat fire at Beverly. But Beverly was far more terrified of the man she'd met earlier than her bitchy roommate.

"Tell. Me."

"Jesus!" Deb threw her hands in the air, hopping from the bed and pacing the small space with agitation. "Going to college isn't cheap, you know?"

Beverly's brows rose. "Yes, I'm aware. That's why they give out scholarships."

Deb spun around to face Beverly with a nasty snarl. "Well not all of us are smart, stuck-up assholes, Beverly! Look, I'm not able to afford school without help; I can't take out loans because my family isn't exactly known for their ability to pay things back, and my savings account was drained by my parents a long time ago to feed their gambling addiction."

Not only could Beverly see where this was going—she could also understand Deb a little better. The other girl clearly hadn't been handed a good lot in life. "I'm sorry," she told her honestly. "That sucks."

Deb snorted, leaning back against the wall and sliding down it until her feet were stretched out in front of her. "It does, actually. There are ways to help pay, though . . ." she ducked her head, suddenly invested in the linoleum floor. "I asked around, and I found out that the easiest and quickest way to make money was to act as a mule."

"A 'mule'?" Beverly asked, her brows furrowed as she considered the other girl's words. "As in . . .?"

"Drugs," Deb nodded slowly, looking up at Beverly with shame in her gaze—it was the first time Beverly had ever seen such an emotion from the other girl, and she had to work to hide her surprise. "Not across the border, obviously, but onto campus and in other places in the city—companies and small businesses."

"Good Lord, Deb," Beverly muttered, flopping down on the floor across from her roommate. "Since you started?"

"My second semester, yeah."

"Well," running a hand over her hair, Beverly eyed Deb with sympathy. "This explains your odd hours and secretiveness, if nothing else."

Deb chuckled, but it was bitter and raw. "And if anyone finds out, I could be expelled and blackballed from every other university in the state, not to mention I would never be able to find an actual job."

"So we'll try not to let that happen, but you realize we have to do something, right? We can't just let this guy wander around our campus and continue to plant drugs everywhere. I'm surprised I haven't heard about people being expelled; the cops told me the drugs I found in the library bathroom were part of an 'isolated incident'. This doesn't sound isolated."

"It's not," Deb agreed, running her fingers over her jeans. "It's been getting worse and worse every day, but the university officials are keeping the whole thing as quiet as possible. It's getting harder, though; they found a group of fifteen students high as Hell right before finals, and they were all suspended."

Beverly's breath hitched. "Seriously? God, I had no idea. And the guy I ran into—is he the leader?"

Deb nodded. "Pretty much. His name is Dennis; everyone who works for him listens without question, and he runs his 'business' like some kind of historic sultan."

"But you're safe, right?" Beverly asked, leaning forward and eyeing Deb imploringly. "He said he'd be coming by, but if you've done everything he told you to do, then you should be safe. Right?"

Deb broke their stare abruptly, swallowing heavily. "No." her voice was so soft Beverly barely heard her. "I didn't do what he asked; I wasn't able to fulfill the latest order, because the drop spot we'd agreed on was being watched by cops."

She pointed at something by her bed, and Beverly followed the gesture to find an eerily familiar grey duffel. "The bag." She whispered to herself, shifting her gaze back to Deb. "What's in there? More drugs?"

God, had there been drugs in her room this whole time? The thought scared her—what would have happened if a police officer had searched their room? The last thing Beverly wanted was to be expelled.

"No," Deb shook her head, heaving herself up from the floor and stepping over to the bag. She pulled it off the bed and unzipped the main pocket, then held it out so Beverly could see its contents.

Wads and wads of cash.

"Holy shit, Deb!" Beverly scrambled up from the floor, her eyes huge, her heart beating wildly. "And Dennis was expecting this? Well, no wonder he's pissed! What the Hell are you going to do?"

Deb eyed the cash like it was a disgusting cockroach that wouldn't stop tormenting her. "I'm not sure; I'd planned to give it to him at a different time and location, but if he's on his way here now . . ." her features shifted into panic, and she stared at Beverly with desperation.

"I have no clue. What the Hell am I supposed to do? Oh, God, I'm screwed. No, we're both screwed. I'm . . ." she sucked in a fluttery breath. "I'm so sorry, Beverly. You weren't supposed to get involved; you should leave while you can. I was meant to go down alone, and I didn't want—" she cut herself off, tears welling in her dark eyes, and Beverly felt her own heart aching.

The decisions Deb had made leading up to this point had obviously been stupid, but—in the reality of things—she was barely an adult and was bound to make mistakes. This was a serious mistake, of course, but who could blame the girl? Her parents had screwed her over, and she just wanted to go to school and get a degree.

Stepping forward without hesitation, Beverly gathered the taller girl in her embrace. "This is bad," she admitted, squeezing the girl comfortingly before pulling back slightly. "But I am not leaving you. So, let's pull ourselves together," she wiped the tears off Deb's cheeks, "and figure this mess out."

Deb nodded shakily, sucking in a steadying breath and rolling her shoulders back. "Okay."

"Okay." She patted Deb's shoulder one more time, then stepped away from the other girl, shifting her gaze to the bag of money. "How pissed will Dennis be if he doesn't get his money tonight?"

"Beyond pissed."

"Good. Sort of. If he's that desperate for it, I'm guessing he'd go to just about any location, am I right?"

"Yes . . ." Deb's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you planning?"

Beverly grinned. "If he needs the money so badly, then we'll give him them money. We'll just try to get something out of it, as well."