Ayla's Raine
By midnight, I had reread the note seventeen times. Not because it was complicated. Because it wasn't.
Your phone wasn't the only thing they erased.
That sentence sat in my brain like a splinter I couldn't dig out. I lay across my bed staring at the ceiling while rain battered softly against the apartment windows. Portwood never seemed fully dry. The city sweated secrets through concrete. My laptop glowed beside me, illuminating half-finished searches:
NOAH ELLERY, RAVENWELL , NORTH TOWER INCIDENT, KAEL MERCER, RAVENWELL SUICIDES
Every search ended the same way.
Nothing.
No archived articles.
No public reports.
No social media memorials.
For a university student who had supposedly died two days ago, Noah Ellery barely existed online. That wasn't normal. Even dead people usually left digital ghosts behind.
I opened another search tab.
Still nothing.
Either Noah had been the most private college student alive or someone had cleaned the internet. My phone buzzed suddenly beside me. I grabbed it instantly.
Unknown Number.
Again.
A message appeared.
Stop searching his name.
A cold pulse slid through my chest.
No typing bubble followed.
No second message.
Just silence.
I typed back before logic could stop me.
Or what?
Three dots appeared instantly.
Then disappeared.
No response came after that.
Which somehow felt worse.
Across the apartment, cabinet doors slammed.
Isla.
I glanced at the clock.
12:47 a.m.
She was still awake.
Not unusual lately.
Since transferring to Portwood, she'd been quieter. Sharper around the edges. Like part of her attention constantly remained somewhere else.
Working cases did that to people. Especially ugly ones.
I found her in the kitchen pouring cold coffee into a mug that already looked abandoned emotionally. She glanced at me once.
"You're pacing."
"I walk dramatically when stressed."
"You're wearing a hole into the floor."
I leaned against the counter. "You ever investigate Ravenwell before transferring here?"
That got her attention immediately.
Too immediately.
Her hand paused around the mug. "Why?"
Interesting. "I'm curious."
"That's usually when your problems start." Fair.
She took a slow sip before answering. "Ravenwell has influence," she said finally. "Money. Political connections. Families with names people care about."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"It's not supposed to." I narrowed my eyes slightly.
"You hate this university."
"I distrust institutions that protect themselves better than people." That sounded dangerously specific. Before I could push further, her phone rang. She checked the screen and swore quietly.
Work call. She grabbed her coat immediately.
"You're leaving?"
"Body near the docks."
"Romantic."
"Ayla."
"I know. Lock the doors. Don't summon demons. Standard procedure." But she paused beside the doorway before leaving. And for one second real concern crossed her face.
"Stay away from Ravenwell after dark."
Then she was gone. The apartment suddenly felt too quiet.
I slept badly.
Not nightmares exactly.
Just fragments.
Rain.
Static.
Blood on metal railings.
And Noah's voice repeating endlessly:
They know.
At 3:14 a.m., thunder dragged me awake.
My laptop screen still glowed dimly from the desk.
I frowned.
I distinctly remembered closing it.
Slowly, I sat up.
The screen displayed a black page filled with white text.
Not a website.
A terminal window.
One sentence blinked across the center:
You should've reported him immediately
You should have reported him immediately.
My heartbeat stopped.
Then accelerated violently.
I lunged for the laptop.
Another line appeared before I could touch the keyboard.
Now they know about you too.
"What the hell" The screen flickered violently.
Then went black.
Dead silence filled the room.
My pulse hammered against my ribs as I checked the laptop.
Frozen.
Completely unresponsive.
Someone had remotely accessed my computer.
Someone watching me closely enough to know:
what I searched what I kept thinking about what I failed to do
Cold realization settled slowly in my stomach.
This wasn't random intimidation anymore. Someone was monitoring me actively. And if they had access to my laptop, they probably had access to my phone too.
Every message.
Every search.
Every note.
I suddenly understood why Ravenwell felt watched.
Because it was.
____
By morning, paranoia had evolved into caffeine-fueled determination.
Which was objectively worse.
Rain poured harder than usual as I crossed campus again, hood pulled low over my face. Students rushed between buildings avoiding puddles and eye contact.
Nobody looked relaxed here.
Not really.
Ravenwell operated like everyone expected disaster eventually.
I headed straight toward the library.
If someone erased Noah digitally, physical records might still exist.
Old newspapers.
Archived yearbooks.
Faculty reports.
Information always left traces somewhere.
The library sat in the oldest part of campus, hidden behind towering black gates and stained-glass windows depicting ravens carrying scrolls in their claws.
Subtle branding again.
Inside smelled like dust, leather, and mold trying its best.
The librarian barely glanced at me.
Good.
I slipped between shelves toward the archive section.
Rows of old university records lined the walls:
disciplinary hearings,
faculty rosters,
student publications.
Hours passed quietly.
Nothing useful.
Until
I found the pattern.
Missing students.
Not officially missing.
Transferred.
Withdrawn.
Academic leave.
Mental health absence.
Different wording.
Same result.
Most connected somehow to: psychology department behavioral sciences forensic research studies
And almost every file ended abruptly.
Incomplete documentation.
Pages removed.
My skin prickled.
Someone had cleaned these records manually.
I reached for another file-
"Those aren't public."
My heart slammed painfully against my ribs.
I turned sharply.
Kael Mercer stood at the end of the aisle.
Black hoodie.
Dark eyes.
Rainwater still dripping faintly from his sleeves.
I hadn't heard him approach.
That bothered me immediately.
"You stalking me now?" I asked.
"You're in restricted archives."
"That's not a no." His gaze dropped toward the folders spread across the table.
The missing student reports.
Something unreadable crossed his expression. "You shouldn't be reading those."
"And you shouldn't erase people's phones, but here we are." His jaw tightened slightly.
Interesting.
No denial again.
"You think I wiped your devices?"
"You're the cybersecurity genius with a sealed disciplinary record. Feels statistically relevant." For a second, I thought he might actually smile.
Not warmly.
More like he found my stupidity briefly entertaining.
Then it vanished.
"You're connecting the wrong dots."
"Then help me connect the right ones."
Silence stretched between us.
Thunder rattled softly against the windows overhead.
Kael stepped closer to the table.
Close enough now that I noticed how exhausted he looked.
Not tired.
Destroyed.
Like he hadn't slept properly in weeks.
"You want to know what happened to Noah?" he asked quietly.
"Yes." His eyes locked onto mine.
"Then stop treating this like a game." The sharpness in his voice caught me off guard.
"That's not what I'm doing."
"You broke into restricted archives less than a week after arriving here."
"I was curious."
"There it is again." Frustration flickered briefly across his face. "You keep saying that like curiosity is harmless."
I crossed my arms. "And you keep acting like I'm about to uncover state secrets."
"You are." The answer came too fast.
Too honest. My pulse stuttered slightly. Kael realized it too. Because immediately afterward, he looked away.
Mistake.
Small.
Human.
The first one I'd seen him make.
Before I could press further-
voices echoed from somewhere near the entrance.
Male.
Faculty.
Kael reacted instantly.
Every muscle in his body sharpened.
"Hide those," he muttered.
"What?"
"Now."
Something in his tone erased argument completely.
I shoved the files back into the drawer just as two men entered the archive room.
One wore faculty robes.
The other wore security.
Neither looked happy.
Kael moved casually beside the shelves, posture loose and controlled again like the panic from seconds earlier had never happened.
The older professor spotted him first.
"Mr. Mercer."
"Professor Aldrich."
The tension between them hit immediately.
Not student-teacher tension.
Something worse.
History.
The security officer's eyes shifted toward me.
"Student ID."
I handed over my badge carefully.
He examined it too long.
"Transfer student," he muttered.
Professor Aldrich looked at the archive drawer behind me briefly.
Then smiled.
Cold smile.
"Ayla Raine," he said softly. "You seem very interested in Ravenwell history."
Something about the way he said history made my stomach tighten.
"I like research."
"Dangerous habit."
Kael's gaze flicked sharply toward the professor.
Tiny movement.
But protective.
Interesting. Very interesting.
The professor noticed it too.
And suddenly, for the first time since meeting Kael Mercer. I realized something terrifying. He wasn't the most dangerous person in the room.