Chapter 154
Caleb's POV
The sun hung low behind the pine trees as I navigated my Mercedes through the winding campus roads, a self-satisfied smirk playing at my lips. The encounter at Pine Trail had gone exactly as planned—better, even. The Green girl, dangling from that amateur snare like some cartoon character, had been the perfect test subject.
"Textbook," I murmured, drumming my fingers against the leather steering wheel. "Absolutely textbook."
I pulled into the bus stop area near Oak Square Mall, the engine purring to a stop. Students clustered around the shelter, scrolling through phones, comparing notes, living their adorably mundane college lives. None of them knew what walked among them. None of them could sense the predator idling thirty feet away.
I loved that feeling. That delicious superiority.
My phone buzzed—a text from my father wanting an update on the "Green situation." I ignored it. Dad could wait. The whole damn pack could wait.
Movement caught my eye. A flash of blonde hair, a fitted cream sweater that screamed "trying too hard," skinny jeans that probably cost half a scholarship stipend.
Samantha Grey.
She stood at the edge of the bus shelter, phone clutched in one hand, her gaze fixed on my car with an intensity that was almost cute in its obviousness. Not "just happened to be here" at all. This was staged. Calculated.
Interesting.
I watched her for a moment, cataloging details the way Dad had taught me. The fresh lipstick. The slightly-too-high heels for a "casual" evening. The way she kept glancing at my car, then away, then back again—the universal signal of "I want you to notice me but I'm pretending I don't."
Normally, I'd drive right past. College girls with obvious agendas were a dime a dozen. But Samantha Grey wasn't just any college girl. She was Lucas Miller's girlfriend. Or ex-girlfriend? The campus gossip was unclear, which meant their relationship was as messy as Jackson's.
And she'd been at that little drama in Pioneer Arena. She'd seen Jackson publicly claim he was "pursuing" Ellie Green. She'd been part of that awkward, tense tableau that screamed "former childhood friends with issues."
Information, I realized. She's a walking, breathing intel source.
Plus, there was a certain poetic justice to it. Lucas—that wannabe Alpha pup who'd been sniffing around Jackson's training sessions—had a hot girlfriend he was clearly neglecting. And now she was standing outside my car, looking like she wanted an excuse to climb in.
Who was I to deny her?
I rolled down the passenger window, letting my most charming smile spread across my face. "Samantha, right? Drama Department building?"
She turned, and the surprise on her face was almost convincing. "Oh! Mr. Martinez. I didn't realize—"
"Call me Caleb." I gestured at the empty seat. "You waiting for the campus shuttle? Because I'm heading toward that direction, and that bus is running twenty minutes late according to the app."
Her eyes widened. "You... you checked the app?"
"Professional hazard. Academic advisors notice patterns." I shrugged, maintaining eye contact. "Plus, I saw you standing there and figured I'd offer. Unless you're meeting someone?"
"No, I—" She bit her lip, a gesture so obviously practiced it almost made me laugh. "Actually, I was going to Maple Street, but my car's in the shop. I thought I could take the bus, but if it's really that late..."
"Hop in."
She didn't need to be asked twice. Within seconds, Samantha was buckling herself into my passenger seat, bringing with her a cloud of vanilla perfume and barely-concealed eagerness.
"Thank you so much," she said, smoothing her sweater. "This is really kind of you."
"Not a problem." I pulled back onto the road, keeping my tone light. "Besides, I was heading that way anyway. Family business."
"Oh?" She turned toward me, eyes wide with interest. "Are you from around here?"
"Spain originally. My family's in... commercial development." All true, if you counted "pack territory management" as commercial development. "What about you? Enjoying Cedar View?"
And there it was—the slight tightening around her eyes, the fractional pause before she answered. "Most of the time."
Trouble in paradise.
"Most of the time?" I prompted gently, playing concerned advisor. "Everything okay?"
Samantha was quiet for a moment, staring out the windshield. When she spoke, her voice had that carefully-crafted vulnerability that women used when they wanted sympathy. "It's just... relationships are complicated, you know?"
"Lucas Miller," I said, not a question.
Her head snapped toward me. "How did you—"
"Samantha, I'm an academic advisor. I notice things." I softened my voice. "And I've seen you two around campus. You seemed... happier a few weeks ago."
"We were happier." The words tumbled out with surprising bitterness. "But lately he's just... gone all the time. Training. Family business. Secret meetings. And when I ask about it, he shuts down completely."
Interesting. So Lucas is doing the same mysterious disappearing act as Jackson.
"That must be frustrating," I said sympathetically. "Especially when you're trying to support him."
"Exactly!" Samantha twisted in her seat to face me fully. "I try to be understanding. I really do. But he comes back with bruises—serious bruises—and won't explain. He's distracted during our dates. He's constantly checking his phone. And then there's—"
She cut herself off, but I could fill in the blank easily enough.
"There's Ellie Green," I finished quietly.
Samantha's expression darkened. "He says they're just childhood friends. That their families are close. But the way he looks at her sometimes..." She shook her head. "I sound paranoid."
"You sound like someone who's being kept at arm's length," I countered. "And you deserve better than that."