Beverly approached her dorm room cautiously, her heart pounding furiously in her chest as she stepped up to the door. Jiggling the knob, she was pleased to find it locked. Hopefully, Deb was safe inside.

Snatching her key from her bag, she unlocked the door, opening it and creeping inside slowly. A quick scan of the interior found Deb huddled on Beverly's bed, the fingers of one hand twisting the comforter anxiously, her other hand pressing a towel to her leg.

"Thank God!" she cried, just as Beverly closed the door and exclaimed, "God, am I glad to see you!"

Locking the door, Beverly threw her backpack down on the floor and collapsed next to Deb with a weary sigh. "I thought you'd been kidnapped," she confessed, her head bumping against the wall as she flattened herself out over the blankets.

Deb shook her head, leaning forward with a slight grimace. "Not yet," she joked weakly, but Beverly wasn't listening, her eyes trained on the navy blue towel. Or, rather, the obvious dark red saturation on the towel.

"Deborah," she began slowly, "what's wrong with your leg?"

Her roommate, ever the tough bitch, huffed, though even that noise was riddle with obvious exhaustion. "They didn't kidnap me," she grunted, "but they tried. Nailed me with a knife, I think. It was sharp, I damn well know that much." After a beat, she met Beverly's eyes, her gaze somber as she murmured, "They're on campus. They'll find us soon."

Beverly swallowed audibly.

We're running out of time.

"We need this to end soon," Deb announced.

"Hopefully, it will," Beverly sighed, standing from the bed to peek through the blinds of their only window, pleased when she didn't see any suspicious characters in the grounds below. The view only accounted for a small portion of the building's surrounding land, but every bit helped. "I gave a friend my phone with the text from Dennis, which will act as evidence. Francis is working with the police to get Harris locked up, and . . ." she trailed off, swinging her gaze to the door.

The same door that was currently producing the sound of footsteps from its other side.

"Crap," she breathed, snatching up the baseball bat near the door that her dad had given her when she'd first moved onto campus. "Already?" Sharing a nervous glance with Deb, she hefted the baseball bat, positioning her body so she would be hidden by the door if it was forced open.

The footsteps came to a halt, and the noise of someone panting replaced them. Then, the person knocked on the door four times.

Deb jolted at the sudden sound, and Beverly had to pull one hand from the bat and slap it against her mouth to stop a startled screech from slipping past her own lips. Another scared glance went between the two girls, along with a hissed conversation:

"Open it!"

"Why the Hell would I open it?!"

"Because if you don't open it, they'll just barge in!"

"Well then why don't you open it?"

"I'm bleeding out like a goddamned stuck pig, Beverly! Open the door!"

"This isn't like just getting a pizza, Deborah!"

"Of course it's not, but if you don't open that damned door then—"

"Beverly?"

Beverly was unable to stop her squeal when she heard the sound of her name, though her tense shoulders fell when the voice continued, "It's Griffin, Beverly. Are you alright?"

Concern was laced in each word, and she smiled slightly at the familiarity of his protective tone, lowering the bat and unlocking the door. Even after all this time without contact, she couldn't stop her heart from fluttering when she saw his quirked smile and soft hazel eyes. He was dressed in his coffeehouse uniform (minus the apron), and Beverly couldn't help but ask, "Wait, did you come straight from work?"

Griffin didn't respond, instead engulfing her in a tight hug, his size making her feel even smaller than she actually was. She also felt safe, though, and God, this is nice after being so on edge lately—why the hell did I let my pride keep me from calling him earlier? Breathing him in happily, she mumbled, "Man, you have no idea how nice it is to see you."

"I think I do," he returned gently, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. "God, I missed you." Pulling back, he stared into her eyes, his gaze searching. "I have a lot to say and apologize for, but I need you to tell me what's going on, first."

"Right, right." She stepped away, her eyes drifting to Deb. "It's a bit of a long story. Come in, though, would you?" Once he was inside, she peeked out into the hall, checking both ways before closing and locking the door once more. "How did you know I was in trouble?"

His size made him stand out starkly in the small space, and his head almost brushed against the low ceiling as he shrugged. "I saw you outside Cynthia's," he admitted. "You ran into some guy, gave him your phone, and raced off. It was weird and I . . . I just needed to make sure you were alright."

Beverly's brows rose in surprise. She hadn't even realized she'd been in front of Cynthia's when the incident had occurred, but who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth? Having Griffin—a terrifying mountain of a man who was well-versed in dealing with questionable people—on their side would give them a bit more of a fighting chance.

"Caleb," she acknowledged, plopping back down next to Deb and sending the other girl a relieved glance. "I sent him to the police station."

"Why? I'm worried, Beverly. Please," he begged, "I know I've lost the right to know, but please tell me what's going on."

Nodding, Beverly ran her hands up and down the tops of her legs, mustering up the courage to tell this to the same man she'd forced herself not to contact for the past couple of weeks. The story was on the tip of her tongue when Deb's phone beeped, and the other girl peered down at it, her eyes widening at what she saw.

"Oh, God," Deb moaned, eyeing the phone as though it had turned into a weapon of mass destruction, the hand placing pressure on her wound trembling. "Oh, my god. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. Shit!"

Beverly bent closer, placing her hands on the taller girl's shoulders sternly. "Whoa, Deb. What's up?"

Deb just shook her head, dropping the towel to clamp a hand over her mouth as though to stop herself from throwing up as she showed Beverly the phone. It was the same number that had contacted Beverly earlier, and read,

Eyes widening with the understanding that these people fully intended on murdering Deb and were definitely one-hundred percent staking out the campus, Beverly grabbed Griffin's hand pleadingly. "We need to get Deb out of here," she rushed, "like now. Right now. Now."

Griffin, still clearly bewildered by the whole situation, nodded nonetheless. "Absolutely, Beverly. We can go now; where do you want me to take you?"

"To the police department," she snatched up the towel that had fallen from Deb's leg and got to work fastening it around the girl's shin, hiding a cringe at the deep, lengthy cut. If they were hoping to make the girl bleed out slowly, they'd done a good job. Shaking her head, Beverly tightened the towel before tying it to hopefully stem further blood loss and leave less of an obvious trail for their assailants to follow. "Sorry," she murmured when Deb hissed at the pressure.

"Glad you're not in healthcare," Deb snarked, and Beverly rolled her eyes, pulling on the towel once more and grinning when her roommate groaned and hissed, "Bitch!"

"Griffin," she turned her attention to her (ex?) boyfriend, her eyes pleading. "We need to go, but Deb needs help; will you take her?"

Griffin was nodding before she'd even finished the question, stepping forward until he was a foot from Beverly's roommate.

Deb frowned. "I don't need any damn help—"

"You the reason she's in this mess?" Griffin grunted suddenly, cutting the girl off, his head tilting towards Beverly to indicate who the "she" was. His hazel orbs were calculating and cool as he put the pieces of the story together.

"Beverly is a grown woman," Deb sneered, "and I can't be blamed for her having the curiosity of a three-year-old and no self-control—"

"That's a yes, then," Griffin concluded snippily. "You put her in this mess, so you're going to get her out of it, and the quicker we get to the station, the quicker we do that. So, shut the hell up and let's move."

Beverly was left stunned, her mouth agape as she watched Deb murmur some curses under her breath but accept Griffin's body as a crutch, nonetheless.

Wow, she couldn't help but think, he wasn't kidding when he said that he used to be assertive.

She had to admit, it was sort of attractive to see him taking control of the situation.

On the other hand, she knew perfectly well that, had his ire been aimed at her, she would've peed her pants just a little. But, to see it directed at someone else who kind of deserved it . . .

Beverly licked her lips, her eyes trailing over his frame, before she reminded her ovaries that such a time was really not appropriate, stupid.

Griffin spun to her, his eyes careful as they assessed her body for any signs of injury. "You sure you're not hurt, Peach?"

She smiled sweetly at the familiar nickname, thankful for even the slightest hint of normalcy in such chaos. "All good here, Griff." She snatched up Deb's backpack, filled with information and evidence, and handed it to Griffin, who slung it over the shoulder not supporting Deb. "Ready to go?"

Griffin raised the hand not wrapped around Deb's back and traced his fingers over Beverly's eyebrow, trailing them over her cheek and down to her chin, as though mapping her features and storing them in his memory. "Yeah, let's go."

He moved forward, leading the way with Deb limping along beside him. Beverly followed close behind, her eyes darting over the few students loitering in the hallway, unsure of who—if any of them—were involved.

Her spine tingled with unease as they reached the elevators. "Something's not right," she muttered, halting several feet from the elevator and surveying their surroundings. The dorm hall was wide and long, and the many doors could house any number of horrors. Where they stood waiting for the elevators didn't feel much safer; the hall opened up into a pseudo-gathering spot, where students could settle on couches to read or study. Two students were curled up on the couches, watching something on a laptop. The RA's office was just to the left of the lounge, and the door was open, but Beverly couldn't see if the girl was insid—

A gunshot cut through the silence, shattering Beverly's train of thoughts as she threw herself to the ground. Ignoring the screams of the girls on the couch, Beverly swung her head around, desperate to know where the shot had come from.

"Beverly!" She turned to Griffin, frowning when she realized how far she'd unintentionally thrown herself from the elevator. She had to be at least ten feet from it. "Are you okay?" he demanded, the panic in his voice palpable.

Still in a shock-ridden haze, Beverly absorbed the hole in the wall just to the left of where she'd been standing second before.

Well, damn, that would've hurt.

"Beverly!" Her gaze snapped to Griffin, who was moving Deb into the elevator and waving for Beverly to join them. "Get the hell over here!"

Ah, right.

No sooner had she started to stand was another gunshot echoing through the hall, followed by another and another, and Beverly had no choice but to move behind the nearest source of cover; an old trashcan and recycling bin pair, both (thankfully) made of metal. Huddling behind the items, she shifted to meet Griffin's gaze, realizing with a sense of dread that she was even farther from the elevators now, and the stairwell was her only option.

Of course, one of Dennis' goons could have easily been waiting in the stairwell.

So, in other words, she was screwed.

Meeting Griffin's stare with her own, she blew out a sigh, grimacing when the bins shook as they were hit with tiny projectiles meant to kill her. "Get Deb to the station!" she hollered over the noise. "I'll head down the stairs and use the emergency exit to meet you there!"

"Beverly, I swear to God—" he cut himself off, turning to look at behind him (at Deb, no doubt), and she knew he realized they were out of options when his eyes widened. She hoped Deb hadn't fainted on him. Griffin's hazel orbs met hers, and he leveled Beverly with a look so full of dark intent she nearly shuddered. "If you get hurt—" A bullet exploded by his head, and he cursed, disappearing into the elevator.

The doors closed a second later, and Beverly sucked in a breath as the gunshots went quiet, realizing that the shooter knew she was there, and was simply waiting for her to come out of hiding.

Surrounded by eerie silence, she closed her eyes, her heart falling into her stomach when she heard the muffled cries of the students in the lounge. Even if she tried to make it to the stairs, what would happen to them? What if they were hurt and needed help?

Don't do it, stupid. Don't you do it.

A whisper of, "I'm scared," from one of the girls, and Beverly blew out a soft sigh.

She knew what she had to do.