The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback (Astra and Zayne) novel Chapter 165

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

What Am I?

ASTRA

I sat on the worn leather couch in the living room, a deck of cards scattered across the low table in front of me. He had given them to me that morning with nothing more than a quiet “Keep yourself busy.”

For the first time since I’d woken up in this place, I wasn’t locked in the attic. The freedom felt strange, almost fragile. Ikept expecting the door to slam and the key to turn again.

I was midway through dealing with another lonely game of solitaire when the front door opened.

1 flinched hard.

He stepped inside, still dressed in all black, the cap pulled low and the mask covering everything below his eyes. Even with most of his face hidden, something about the way he moved felt different. Lighter and strangely, almost… pleased. /

He didn’t speak at first. He walked straight to the television mounted on the wall, picked up the remote, and turned it on.

My stomach dropped.

“Have you seen the news, my dear Astra?” he asked, voice cheerful as he flipped through the channels.

I swallowed. “No.”

“Then we’ll watch it together.” He sat down on the couch beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body. “It concerns you, after all.”

The screen filled with a familiar news studio. The reporter’s face was serious.

the search for eighteen-year-old Harrington Academy student Astra Hawthorne entered its fourth day today. Police confirm they have received a second note from the individual believed to be responsible for her abduction…”

My hands curled into fists on my lap.

Images flashed across the screen: the academy gates, police tape, search dogs, helicopters. Then a photograph of the first note-the one with the picture of me asleep in the blue gown-appeared briefly before the camera focused on a new envelope.

The reporter continued:

“Unlike the previous communication, this second note contains no photograph. Instead, authorities say it holds a short riddle. Police and private investigators working with the family are currently attempting to interpret its meaning.”

The screen cut to a close-up of the paper.

The words were written in the same thick black marker as before:

**I am the first thing she reaches for when the world is too loud.**

**I have listened to every secret she never told another living soul.**

**My ear is broken, but I have never left her side.”

**What am I?**

My breath caught.

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The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Beside me, the man let out a soft, almost amused sound.

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“Look at them,” he murmured, eyes on the screen. “Running in circles. Holding press conferences. Bringing in dogs and, helicopters… and they still won’t solve it.” He turned his head toward me. “Not unless they actually know you.”

I couldn’t speak.

He leaned in slightly, silver eyes studying my face above the mask.

“I might not have fathered you,” he said quietly, “but after obsessively watching you these past months, my dear…. I learned a few things.” His voice dropped even lower. “Can you guess what the answer is?”

I stared at the television, heart slamming against my ribs.

He already knew I understood.

“Even your precious Ashtons won’t get it,” he continued, almost gently. “All they know how to do is use you. And when you’re no longer useful… they let you go.”

The words settled over me like ice.

On the screen, the reporter was still talking, but I couldn’t hear her anymore.

All I could hear was the soft, satisfied breathing of the man sitting beside me.

My throat felt tight. Almost no one knew about him. Not really. My mother did… if she remembered. And Zane. Once. Just once, in that quiet moment in my room when I’d told him the story about the torn ear. He had laughed and called me ridiculous.

Would he even remember?

The thought made something twist painfully in my chest.

I forced myself to look at the man beside me.

“What happens if someone solves it?” My voice came out quieter than I wanted. “Is there a clue? Something that leads to me?”

He tilted his head, eyes like daggers gleaming with amusement above the mask.

“Clever girl,” he murmured. “You’re asking the right question for once.”

He leaned back against the couch, completely at ease.

“If someone solves the riddle correctly… they’ll receive the next piece.” His voice stayed calm, almost conversational. “A location and a time. Something useful. I’m not completely unreasonable.”

My hands tightened in my lap.

“And if they don’t?”

He shrugged lightly. “Then they keep running in circles while you stay right here with me.”

The casual way he said it made my stomach turn.

I swallowed hard. “You’re that sure no one will figure it out?”

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10:04 Tue, Aug 4 N

The Nerd Who Stole The Quarterback

A soft sound left him-almost a laugh.

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