Maya realized that some predators were patient enough to wait for the perfect moment to strike, but she had no idea that other kinds of danger were about to explode in ways she never could have predicted.
She couldn't shake it—the encounter under the lamppost, the way the stranger had smiled like he already knew secrets that could destroy her. The way he'd said "Rivera" like he owned the name, like he understood exactly who was hiding beneath it.
Get some rest, Rivera. Big season ahead.
By the time Maya stumbled back to her dorm room, hands still trembling with adrenaline from the courtyard confrontation, her skin felt marked in ways that had nothing to do with physical contact. Like his gaze had burned something permanent into her that no amount of hot water or soap could wash away.
He knows something. Maybe not everything, but enough to be dangerous.
