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"Mason!" I yelled, banging on his door with my fists. "Open up!"

There was no feeling in my fingers —everything had gone completely numb. Bees had seemed to infiltrate my head, the reverberating sound driving me insane.

I was about to knock again, when the door clicked open.

"What is it?" He frowned, running a careless hand through his hair. He was shirtless, again.

I didn't have time to admire anything.

"Someone trashed my apartment," I breathed, unable to keep the panic out of my voice.

His eyes widened, that tired look dissipating immediately.

"I'll be back," he muttered, almost too quick for me to understand. He returned a few seconds later, this time with a shirt. I could breathe a little better.

He took my hand, leading me back to the apartment. I didn't protest.

When Mason caught the view of the complete mess, he swore. "Who would do something this fuckinʼ stupid?" 

I shrugged. "I don't know. Whoever it is—how did they get in? I'm the only one with an access card to this room."

I flipped out my card to prove that it was still with me. He was still holding on to my other hand, not planning to let go any time soon.

"I have my suspicions," he said, "but I'm calling the cops."

We walked back into his apartment. I pulled away from his hand, the warmth vanishing, and took a seat on his couch with my face in my hands.

"Wait," I started, "who do you think did it?"

There was a long pause before Mason chose to answer.

"That asshole that assaulted you in the club that night," he said, his voice certain.

I frowned. "Doesn't it seem a little too much? Even for him? I mean, all I did was punch him. And it hurt me more than it hurt him."

Mason shook his head. "I didn't...I didn't tell you something. And I don't think Caleb told you either."

I swallowed, not sure if I wanted to know. "What is it?"

"We got that guy arrested," he said. "I think he got out early by paying a fine, though. I thought he'd have learned his lesson, but obviously not."

I just stared at him. They did that for me?

"Well," I started, "if he's some psychotic, revenge-seeking serial killer that kills me in my sleep, I'm so coming back to haunt you two."

"You're not going to get killed," Mason said, his voice low.

I just pulled a face. "That's what they always say to the girl before she freaking gets killed!"

"Calm down, blondie."

"Can you not do that?" I huffed. "Can you not tell a girl to calm down when she so obviously is not in the right mind to actually calm down?"

Mason sighed. Then, his eyes lit up, and he walked away from me.

"What are you doing? Can you at least provide me with some emotional support?" 

He looked up at me. "I'm checking the security camera recording. Surely it must have picked something up."

I nodded.

I walked over to him, where he was standing in front of a monitor attached to his white wall, just next to the entrance.

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