And she was staggering.

He broke into a sprint.

“Cate!”

As he called her name, she slumped against a tree and peered his direction.

“Stay there! I’m coming.”

Accelerating into a full-out run, he reached her in less than half a minute.

Sucked in a breath.

Her pallor and slightly glazed eyes confirmed she’d run into trouble—and twisted his gut into a pretzel.

“What happened?” His question came out in a croak.

She scrunched up her face, as if trying to focus. “There was . . . someone . . . in the woods.”

“Are you hurt?”

“I think . . . there was a . . . rock.” She lifted her hand toward the back of her head, but the instant she let go of the tree, she swayed.

“Whoa.” He steadied her, gently turned her head sideways—and almost lost what little lunch was left in his stomach.

Her hair was dark and matted with blood.

You’d think, after all the gore he’d seen in the field, he could handle a head injury.

But not on Cate.

Legs suddenly shaky, he bent, tucked his arm under her knees, and picked her up.

Her lack of protest was scarier than her appearance.

Unless she was badly hurt, Cate would never have let him touch her, let alone carry her anywhere.

He tightened his protective grip.

She moaned and dropped a cheek to his chest. “Bruised . . . ribs.”

Raining silent curses on himself, he loosened his hold. Hurting Cate wasn’t acceptable.

Not ever again.

“I’m sorry.”

“No . . . worries. I’ll . . . live.”

Yeah, she would. Cate was a survivor through and through.

He started back toward the school, brain buzzing. They had only a couple of minutes to talk without witnesses, and he needed answers, even if her mind was fuzzy.

“Cate . . . tell me what happened.”

“He came . . . from behind.” Her voice was muffled against his chest and a bit breathless. As if she was struggling to get a grip on her pain.

He slowed his stride, trying to jostle her as little as possible. “Did you see who it was?”

“No. Face . . . was covered.”

“Did he say anything?”

“He cursed—in Spanish.”

An excellent clue.

“How do you want to play this?” A few students walking between the main building and the dorms had paused to gawk at them. “We’ve got an audience.”

“I can say . . . I fell.”

Not going to work—and if her brainpower hadn’t been compromised, she’d realize that.

It was up to him to put together a credible game plan.

“That won’t fly. If someone on the inside staged this and you lie about what happened, they’ll be suspicious.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Tell the truth—but leave out the part about hearing any Spanish.”

Kayla emerged from the main building and watched their approach too.

Kayla.

A plan began to form in his mind.