Campus Life

Campus Life
The coffee mug broke on the floor as Valentina jumped back, hot liquid splashing her shoes.
"I am so sorry!" the girl with bright blue hair exclaimed, hurriedly grabbing napkins from the café counter. "I wasn't looking where I was going!"
"It's fine," Valentina said, helping clean up the mess. Her heart was still racing—for a split second, the crash had sounded like gunshots.
"I'm Zoe, by the way," the girl said, offering a napkin-covered hand. "Freshman, English major, walking disaster."
"Lucy," Valentina answered, using her new name. "Lucy Campo. Journalism."
"No way! We have Professor Harmon's Media Ethics class together!"
Valentina smiled, relaxing slightly. Three weeks into her new life at Castle City University, and she was still jumping at shadows. Every stranger could be a Phoenix Circle spy. Every loud noise could be a bullet.
"Coffee's on me," Zoe insisted, pulling Valentina to the bar. "It's the least I can do."
Valentina wanted to refuse—wanted to keep her distance—but something about Zoe's friendly smile made her pause. After all, wasn't this why she had come to college? To have a normal life, even if just for a while?
Sebastian had helped her escape that night the alarm sounded. They'd slipped away in the chaos, only for him to reveal that her parents were still missing. The flash drive had held coordinates to a safe house in Canada, but when they arrived, Julian and Maria Castello were long gone. All that left was a note: "Trust no one. Not even family."
Sebastian had agreed to help her create a new name. Lucy Campo from Chicago, a scholarship student with no link to the Castello or Moretti names. While he kept searching for her parents, Valentina would hide in plain sight at the university.
Alessio had been angry at first. But after seeing the evidence against him on the flash drive—secret meetings with known Shepherds, money trails to offshore accounts—even he had decided it was better if they kept their distance.
"Earth to Lucy!" Zoe waved her hand in front of Valentina's face. "What kind of coffee?"
"Sorry. Just black."
"Bold choice. Like your writing," Zoe grinned. "I saw your article for the campus paper. The one about corruption in student government? Hardcore."
Valentina winced. The article had gotten notice—too much attention. Professor Harmon had praised it in class, even suggesting she develop it for a bigger story.
"It was nothing," Valentina said, taking her coffee. "Just connecting some dots."
"Well, connect some dots with us tonight," Zoe said. "My roommate is having people over. Nothing crazy, just hang out, play games. You never come to anything."
Valentina started to make her normal excuse, but stopped herself. Would one night of normal college life be so dangerous?
"Sure," she agreed. "Text me the address."
That evening, Valentina checked her new flat carefully before leaving. The small off-campus place was nothing like Alessio's mansion or her family's farm, but it had tight security—thanks to Dante's people.
As she locked the door, her neighbor stepped into the hallway. Mr. Brooks was a quiet older man who always seemed to be coming or going at the same time she was.
"Evening, Miss Campo," he said with a polite nod.
"Good evening," she responded, wondering for the hundredth time if he was watching her. Dante had promised to have people close, but never said who.
Zoe's meeting was in a cramped apartment filled with mismatched furniture and twinkling string lights. Music played softly, and a group of students were chatting around a coffee table covered with cards.
"Lucy!" Zoe squealed, running over. "You came! Guys, this is Lucy from my Media Ethics class."
Valentina smiled nervously as Zoe introduced everyone: Mason the computer science student, Ellie and Darius who were dating, and Ryan, who was in film school.
"The mysterious Lucy," Ryan said, grinning. "Zoe talks about you all the time."
"All good things," Zoe told her. "Like how you destroyed Professor Wright in the debate last week."
"It wasn't a destruction," Valentina said, ashamed. "I just disagreed with his take on journalistic immunity."
"You quoted three Supreme Court cases from memory," Ellie said, amazed. "That's pretty badass."
For the next few hours, Valentina felt almost normal. They played cards, ordered pizza, and talked about classes, movies, and college gossip. No one asked about her family or where she was from. No one tried to kill her. No one guessed she carried a knife strapped to her ankle.
During a lull in talk, Ryan asked, "So what made you want to study journalism, Lucy?"
Valentina paused. "My parents were journalists," she said carefully. "They taught me that truth matters, especially when powerful people want it hidden."
"Deep," Mason noted. "Is that why you went after the student body president in your article?"
"I didn't go after him," Valentina corrected. "I just followed the money. Those student activity fees were funding his fraternity's parties, not campus improvements."
"Well, he's pissed," Darius joined in. "I heard him talking about finding out who wrote it and making them pay."
Valentina stiffened, but forced a laugh. "What's he going to do? Give me a bad grade?"
Later that night, walking home alone despite offers for company, Valentina checked her phone. A text from Sebastian: "Still nothing. Stay safe."
She tucked the phone away, annoyed. Every day without finding her parents felt like failure.
The school was quiet as she crossed the main quad. A figure sat alone on a bench beneath a streetlight, hunched over papers.
Professor Harmon.
Valentina considered dodging him, but he looked up and waved her over.
"Miss Campo," he said kindly. "Out late?"
"Just spent time with friends," she responded. "Are you grading papers at midnight?"
He laughed, gathering his materials. "Occupational hazard. Actually, I'm glad I ran into you. I wanted to talk about your work."
Valentina shifted uneasily. "My article?"
"That, and your essays in class. You have real talent." His expression grew serious. "And a familiar voice. Reminds me of journalists I used to know."
"I read a lot," Valentina said quickly.
"Of course." He studied her face. "I have connections at The Guardian. They're looking for interns next semester. Would you be interested?"
"I—I don't know," Valentina stammered. A prestigious internship meant exposure, attention—danger.
"Think about it," Professor Harmon urged. "Talent like yours shouldn't be wasted on the campus paper."
As they walked toward the teacher parking lot, Harmon asked casually, "You're from Chicago, right? Which part?"
"Wicker Park," Valentina lied, naming a neighborhood she'd studied.
"Interesting," Harmon mused. "No trace of a Midwest accent."
Valentina's warning bells rang loudly. "My family moved around a lot."
"I'm sure they did," Harmon said. They reached his car, and he unlocked it. "Well, good night, Miss Campo. Or should I say..."
He paused, meeting her eyes directly.
"...Miss Castello?"
Valentina froze, her hand inching toward her hidden knife.
"Don't worry," Harmon said quietly. "Your secret is safe with me. I was a friend of your parents."
"Everyone says that," Valentina answered coolly. "Usually before they try to kill me."
Harmon smiled sadly. "I understand your caution. But I'm not with the Circle or the Shepherds." He reached slowly into his jacket and removed a small photo, giving it to her.
In the streetlight, Valentina could make out four people: a younger Harmon standing beside her parents. The fourth person was blacked out with ink.
"Who's the fourth person?" she asked.
"Someone who betrayed us all," Harmon said grimly. "The same person who has your parents now."
Valentina's heart beat. "You know where they are?"
"Not exactly. But I know they're alive, and I know they contacted me three days ago." Harmon opened his car door. "Come to my office tomorrow after class. Alone. I'll tell you everything."
As he drove away, Valentina stood frozen in place, the picture clutched in her hand. Hope and fear fought within her. Was Harmon truly her parents' friend? Or was this another trap?
Her phone buzzed with a new message. Unknown number: "Don't trust Harmon. He's not who he claims to be."
A second message followed, this one with a picture attachment. Valentina opened it and gasped.
It was the same group picture Harmon had shown her, but unaltered. The fourth person wasn't blacked out.
It was Professor Harmon himself.
The man she had just spoken to was someone else entirely.