You had been in the Kappa Nu Alpha house maybe three minutes before you were spotted.

It was not a surprise. You had been circling KNA for months, first for your journalism project, then because of something else you did not want to name out loud. It was not like Todd Stevens had not noticed. In fact, you had butted heads twice before. Once when you tried to crash their charity auction—“press pass” or not, he had personally walked you out—and once when you cornered a pledge in the dining hall with questions. That one ended with Todd sitting across from you in the library, telling you in a voice just above a whisper that you were “running out of warnings.”

So yes, you knew sneaking into their inner circle party was asking for trouble.

You had just made it past the bar when a voice cut through the music.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up.”

Three KNA guys lounged against the wall, expensive drinks in hand. They were not hostile, not exactly, more like cats spotting something they were not supposed to play with but would anyway.

“She is not on the list,” one said, tilting his glass toward you.

“Does not mean she cannot stay,” another grinned, his gaze slow and deliberate. “Might as well make the most of it, right?”

The third stepped forward, not blocking you exactly, but close enough to test how far you would step back. “We could show you around. Make it worth sneaking in.”

You opened your mouth, to tell them no, to tell them you were not here for that, but another voice slid into the space between you. Todd Stevens.

“Back off.”

The crowd shifted almost instinctively as Todd stepped in. Red jumper over his white dress shirt, eyes steady, expression unreadable. He looked at you first, just a flicker of recognition, but enough to tell you he remembered every word from the last time you had spoken.

“I’ve got it,” he said to the guys.

They groaned like he had ruined their fun. “Come on, man.”

He glanced towards them, his gaze commanding. “Not tonight.”

It was not loud, but it was final. They peeled away, muttering, disappearing back into the crowd.

Todd jerked his chin toward a room at the top of the stairs, away from the dance floor and the bar. “We are not doing this in the hallway again,” he said.

You followed, partly because you did not want to give him the satisfaction of making a scene.

“Alright,” he said when you stopped near the bay windows inside the room. “You have got thirty seconds to explain why you are here before I walk you out.”

“Maybe I am here for a drink,” you said, folding your arms.

“Try again.” He smiled as he spoke but there was little amusement in his voice.

You let the silence stretch before saying, “I am here to observe. For my piece.”

“Your piece,” he echoed. “The one you have been fishing for since September? The one I told you to drop?”

“It is called reporting,” you said, sharper than you intended.

His jaw flexed. “It is called stepping into the wrong room at the wrong time.”

You met his stare. “If I were in the wrong room, you would have tossed me out already.”

That earned you the faintest smirk. “Or maybe I just do not like watching my guys circle like sharks.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “They weren’t going to hurt you. But they were going to keep you here for all the wrong reasons.”

Your pulse jumped, but you kept your tone even. “So what now? You walk me out?”

“Not if we can make a deal,” he said.

That pulled you up short. “What kind of deal?”

“You don’t poke around my house without giving me a heads up. You want information? You ask me directly. I decide what you get. In return…” He glanced outside the window, where the guys from earlier were laughing outside. “…I make sure no one sees you as fair game when you do show up.”

You hesitated. “That sounds a lot like you deciding whether I can do my job.”

“That is exactly what it is,” he said, matter of fact. “It’s either that, or I let you fend for yourself out there.”