Chapter 71 71

Chapter 71 71
Quinn’s POV

Roman was the last person I expected to see as I walked down the stone steps of the journalism building with my coursemates. It was late Friday night, and my brain felt fried after a long seminar session that had popped up impromptu at the very last minute.

The professor had dragged the discussion on investigative ethics for over three hours, and all I wanted to do now was go home and eat dinner. I waved goodbye to Maddie, then pulled my jacket tighter around myself, reaching into my pocket to grab my phone. I was thinking about calling Harmony to arrange something for dinner.

As I cut through a secluded alley shortcut behind the journalism building, the yellow streetlights from the main road faded away, leaving only the dim glow of a single overhead bulb buzzing above the dumpster. I kept my footsteps light, rushing to get back to the main street. But as I rounded the corner by the brick wall, I froze.

A familiar figure was standing near the shadows. I blinked, pulling back behind a massive trash bin to keep out of sight. It was Roman, and he was pacing back and forth in the damp gravel, looking unhinged. His eyes were darting every which way toward the mouth of the alleyway. In his shaking hands, he held a thick manila envelope. I watched, holding my breath, as he dropped it into a rusty drop-box attached to the back of an old warehouse building.

Before I could slip away unseen, the door next to the drop-box creaked open. A young but rough-looking man stepped out from the darkness to claim the money. He wore a dirty, oversized hoodie pulled low over his forehead, and his boots were scuffed and covered in mud. I stared hard, trying to see his face, but I didn’t recognize him. He was a stranger to me, definitely not a student or anyone I had ever seen hanging around the athletic department.

The man reached down, pulling the thick envelope out of the rusty slot. He flicked the edge open with his dirty thumbnail, glancing inside at the neat stack of bills before offering an unpleasant grunt.

“Is it all here, golden boy?” the man asked, his voice rough like gravel.

“Every single dollar,” Roman replied. “Two thousand cash, just like you demanded. Now you listen to me very carefully. You stay away from her apartment, okay? If I ever see you walking down her street again, or if you even look in her direction, I swear to God I will personally handle you myself. We are done.”

The rough-looking man laughed mockingly, shoving the envelope deep into his hoodie pocket. “Relax, Foster. As long as the green keeps flowing when I ask, I have no reason to visit. But don’t go making promises you can’t keep.”

My mind was working at top speed, trying to piece together what the hell was happening. Roman was standing in a filthy alleyway handing over piles of cash to a street thug in the middle of the night. There was no other explanation for the raw terror and anger radiating off him. Roman was being blackmailed.

The man offered a lazy wave of his hand, turning on his heel and slipping back through the door and shutting it with a metallic bang that made me jump. Roman stood perfectly still in the center of the alley for a long moment, running his large hands through his blonde hair and letting out a ragged breath.

I stepped out from behind the dumpster, my sneakers making a soft scraping sound against the asphalt as I closed the distance between us.

“Roman!” I called out.

His entire body jerked around, his hands immediately flying out into a defensive posture. When his eyes locked onto my face, the panic on his features shifted into a wary glare. He looked like a child caught doing something mischievous.

“Jesus, Quinn,” he breathed, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Don’t sneak up on me like that again. What the hell are you doing out here?”

He kept glancing back toward the rusty drop-box, then back to my eyes, trying to gauge my expression.

"First off, this is my academic department. I have more right to be here than you." I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, stepping closer so I wouldn’t have to raise my voice. “I saw the envelope and the guy in the hoodie, and I heard you tell him to stay away from "her" apartment. Who was that? Why are you paying people off in the dark? Shouldn't you be preparing for your hockey match tomorrow?”

“It’s none of your business,” he snapped, turning his back to me and walking toward the edge of the alley. “Go home, Quinn. Forget you saw anything.”

“Like hell I will!” I said, catching up to him in three quick strides.

“It’s Benji, okay?” Roman finally blurted out, turning back to face me. “That was Harmony's brother. He was going to hurt Harmony if he didn’t get two thousand dollars. That was what you just saw. I had to deliver it to him.”

The name hit me like a physical blow. Benji? Wasn't that Harmony’s unstable, dangerous brother that she told me about? Harmony hadn't gone into much detail about him, but I knew he was a problem. However, I had no idea things had escalated to the point where he was actively threatening to harm his own sister, just to keep extorting people. I looked at the fear and desperation in Roman’s eyes, the way his knuckles were white from clenching his fists, and a sudden clarity washed over me.

Roman was about to walk away again, turning his shoulder to leave me standing on the sidewalk. But my fingers dug into the fabric of his jacket, forcing him to halt.

“Roman, look at me,” I demanded softly, staring right into his eyes. “Do you have feelings for Harmony? Is that what this is really about?”

A bright red flush crept up from his collar all the way to his ears, giving him away despite his best efforts to look indifferent. He couldn’t even meet my eye, his gaze dropping down to the pavement.

“Look, I just think that she doesn’t deserve any of this,” he muttered evasively. “She’s trying to build a life here. I’m just making sure that piece of garbage stays away from her.”

"But who gives away two thousand dollars on behalf of someone who's almost a stranger—"

"Jesus, Quinn!" Roman interrupted in protest. The embarrassed flush had deepened now, spreading into his face.

"Alright, alright." I let go of his arm, trying to fight a smile. “But you don’t have to lie, okay? I can see how much you're willing to risk for her, and that is enough of an answer for me. I know what's going on here.”

Then the curiosity I felt before melted away, replaced by a deep sense of dread. I looked around the dark street, thinking about the massive tangled web we were all getting caught in.

“You need to understand something, Roman. You might not have been around many street thugs, but I have. I met a whole lot of them in the course of my investigations. If you start throwing money at them, they are going to assume you have a lot of it stashed away somewhere, and they will keep coming back for more. We are already trying to deal with Dr. Bennett, and now this? Please, just be careful.”

He pulled his shoulders back, the stubborn, arrogant athlete persona sliding back into place like a shield. “I know who I’m dealing with, Quinn. I can handle a street thug. Don’t worry about it.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, tilting his head toward the end of the block where his Audi was parked under a streetlight.

“It’s freezing out here, and it’s way too late for you to be walking alone through these alleys anyway,” he said, his tone turning casual. “Come on. I’ll drive you back.”

I nodded, too exhausted to argue. After seeing what I had just witnessed, the journey back to my apartment felt a lot more terrifying than usual. I fell into step beside him, glancing behind me occasionally.