The words echoed in my head as I walked across campus.
"When I become captain."
Those words weren't speculative; they were declarative. A statement of certainty from Tristan that clung to the air with a chilling promise
Not if. When.
My stomach churned with the implications of what Tristan had said. For him to be so confident, something must have already happened. Something with Marcus.
"Let’s just say a spot’s about to open up."
There was only one way that could happen—if Marcus was out.
But… how?
Marcus was the team. He was the captain. The best player they had. The one who led them through victory after victory. There was no way the university would just drop him—unless something serious had happened.
What kills me the most at this point—I hadn’t even known.
He had told me nothing. Not about any of this. Not about the risk of losing his title. Not about whatever had been going on behind the scenes.
Had he not trusted me? Or was this just him—still trying to shoulder everything alone like he always did, still trying to keep up the illusion that he was invincible?
I thought about him in the past few weeks—how distant he had been. How even with our late-night meetings, our secret touches, our stolen moments, something had been off.
Marcus, who I hadn't properly seen lately. Marcus, who had been missing practices, disappearing from his usual spots, becoming more of a ghost than a presence.
Now it all made horrible sense.
"You sure you don't want a ride?" Brent asked as we left the gym after practice. The evening air was growing cooler, autumn settling in properly now.
I shook my head, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. "No, I need to check something before heading home. But thanks."
"Your dad's coming back soon, right?" He smiled, that familiar, warm smile that usually made everything feel better. But not tonight. Tonight, my mind was elsewhere. "Maybe I could stop by this weekend? It's been ages since I've seen him."
"Yeah, sure," I agreed absently. "That would be nice."
Brent studied my face for a moment, like he wanted to say more, but finally just nodded. "Text me when you get home safe, okay?"
We said our goodbyes, and as I watched Brent disappear into the parking lot, my mind swerved back to Marcus.
The last time I'd seen him properly was in the campus courtyard, where he'd been watching me from his usual spot. Then Stacey had approached him, and they'd both disappeared. Since then... nothing. Radio silence.
He was nowhere to be found in his usual places now—not the gym, not the court, not even our spot in the library.
And it hit me—something was wrong. Something bad.
And I needed to find him.
My feet carried me before I'd fully made the decision. I knew where I needed to go.
The way to Marcus's apartment felt longer than usual, each traffic light an eternity. Street lamps cast long shadows across the dashboard as I rehearsed what I would say.
How do you ask someone why they're throwing everything away? How do you help someone who won't admit they need help?
His building looked different in the evening light – more imposing, somehow. More forbidding. I climbed the stairs to his floor, my heart pounding with each step.
I knocked. No answer.
Knocked again. Silence.
"Marcus?" My voice was quiet, but it cut through the silence like a blade. "It’s me."
I pressed my palm against the door, felt the cold wood against my skin.
"Please… I know you’re in there."
More silence.
It felt endless—minutes stretching like hours, my heartbeat pounding louder with each second that passed.
I raised my hand to knock again, but before I could—the door swung open.
And Marcus was there. But not the Marcus I knew.
His face was shadowed in the dim light of the hallway, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscles ticking beneath his skin. His eyes—normally so sharp, so full of something fiery and alive—were dark.
Hollow. Wrong.
He didn’t say anything. Just looked at me.
Before I could speak, his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. In one fluid motion, he pulled me inside, the door slamming shut behind us.