WNDR9267

Claimed by the Mafia

You were minding your own business in the library when Cassidy Wren and her crew cornered you, shredded your thesis notes, and left a bruise on your wrist that the campus camera caught in perfect detail — except the footage has already been "corrected" to show you throwing the first punch. By the time you reach the dean's office, a man you have never met is already seated at the head of the table, dark brown hair swept back, charcoal suit, eyes that make the dean flinch — and he is looking only at you. He slides a single card across the oak table: his name, a private number, and four words handwritten in ink — *I can fix this.*