A hallway statue of Jesus judges Laura from above as she creeps past, dodging the strict-looking nuns like she’s a spy in a James Bond movie until she slips into an empty office and closes the door softly behind. After hours of scouting the campus, she and Jaiden have finally found an abandoned staff meeting chamber in Genevieve Hall. Annie went to fetch Armani’s uniform from the locker room, and Zoey? Zoey couldn’t care less. None of them wanted to even suggest the idea of searching for a hideout, avoiding her sharp tongue and backlash.

  The whole day was... surprising. It started with what seemed to be a love letter to Armani, then he got shot, then they found out they are in a Catholic school. No wonder why every corner has a nun with eyes sharp enough to spot sins before they were even committed.

  And because her group was too illiterate to know what religion even means, Laura spent most of that time explaining “Catholicism” and “Christianity” in the group chat, only to witness the stupidest questions ever.

  "They put God in a picture in the hallway? How did they trap him in a picture?" — Jaiden.

  "What do you mean Jesus died for our sins? I don’t use sin. Isn’t that the thing related to cos and tan in math? Or physics? Anyway, I don’t do it! (I didn’t study that part hehe)" — Annie.

  "No, Annie, sin means something bad you do. I don’t sin either, I only sell drugs lol." — Armani.

  "Having a picture of God doesn’t mean he’s trapped in a picture, Jaiden. It’s just a depiction of him." — Zoey.

  "Deception?" — Armani.

  "Detention?" — Jaiden.

  "Isn’t that a kind of drug?" — Annie.

  "Depiction. Being drawn, idiots." — Zoey.

  When the group chat’s chaos dies down and before another one breaks out, Laura sends a location pin: their new hiding spot—a murky, stifling space on the first floor of Genevieve Hall, lit by a single hanging bulb over a red, round table surrounded by wheeled, black-cushioned chairs. Unused equipment lies scattered across the dusty floor.

  Jaiden holds the door for Annie, who enters supporting her injured boyfriend. Laura immediately opens the windows, letting in some much-needed air before they suffocate. The stale air shifts, carrying the faint scent of mold. Each person grabs tissues, wiping down their chairs, as well as the table, before settling in. Armani, however, limps over and leans against the table. His palms hit the table with a sharp thud, the sound snapping everyone’s attention to him.

  "Before we start," he announces, "let's decide on the punishment."

  The door suddenly bursts open and slams shut with a bang, startling everyone. Zoey. The moment Armani sees the hoodie she’s wearing—black, oversized, with that hideous red dragon, still reeking of its original owner’s scent—his excitement dies. He shoots a glance at Jaiden, whose eyes immediately meet his. They both recognize it: Bryan’s. Zoey pulls her hood down, hiding her dyed hair, grabs a chair, and joins the table. All in silence.

  "Isn't it a bit too early to decide on a punishment?" Annie chirps, twirling in her chair, her voice as cheerful as usual.

  Armani continues, "So, first round’s punishment. The loser gets a cut on the thigh, just like how I was grazed. Any coward here wanna say no?" He scans the hesitant faces with a faint smile.

  Zoey takes a breath. "That's not safe," she objects. "The thigh has crucial blood vessels; one wrong cut and someone could suffer serious consequences. We should consider something less grave. Like, punching, maybe?"

  "Aw! Getting soft, kitten?" Armani teases.

  She pauses, pronouncing each word carefully. "Don't you ever fucking call me that."

  "Punching someone is weird," Laura interjects. "What kind of person wants to punch others?"

  "Yes, it's weird!" Annie nods.

  Armani laughs. "Even Annie thinks it’s weird!"

  "Let's just stick to Armani's idea," Jaiden adds.

  The two girls nod in agreement.

  "Hold on. How is punching someone weird, but cutting their thigh isn't?" Zoey demands, turning in her chair to give each of them a questioning look. They all exchange confused glances before looking back at her. Silence, again.

  Armani drags a chair toward the table and sinks into it. "No tears? No objections? Then, it's settled!"

  "Hello?" Zoey's voice gets slightly louder. "I was talking."

  "Wouldn't it make sense to decide on the judge first?" Jaiden asks, turning to Armani.

  Annie bounces in her chair, beaming. "I wanna be the judge!"

  Laura raises a hand. "Leave it up to me."

  Armani turns in his chair to face Laura. "Cool, Laura will be the judge of the first round."

  Jaiden nods. "I think Laura will do fine since she's the oldest."

  Zoey glances at Annie, whose smile faded and shoulders drooped. "Yeah, she’ll be great since your boss said so, assholes," she mutters.

  Laura stands abruptly, grabbing everyone's attention with her warm voice. "Alright then, I’ll grab some paper so we can start." She moves toward some desks and pries open the drawers, pulling out dusty supplies.

  "It looks like you did some good research here," Armani says, his voice softening as he studies her.

  Laura chuckles. "You guys were late, as usual, so I looked around." Armani's tension dissolves, seeing she isn't angry with him after their argument in the nurse's office. She returns with an old notebook, some pens, and a vase. "I remember you said you used to mix the paper in a jar, but I think a vase will do."

  She tears a few pieces of paper, big enough to jot a paragraph or two. She hands each of them a piece. "What are we going to write again?"

  Armani takes the lead. "Everyone writes down their own name, folds the paper, tosses it in the vase. We shake it, spill them, and pull one each. The name you get is your target. Your mission is to watch them without getting caught. Next round, we all will vote on who the traitor, or the loser, is and punish them."

  "And if we find nothing to write?" Zoey asks.

  "Sharp as always," Armani says. Sincere? Sarcastic? She can’t tell. "You’ll be the loser if you don’t write anything about your target."

  One by one, they write their names, and fold the paper carefully. Laura collects the papers, drops them into the vase, gives it a good shake, then tips the pile out into the middle of the table. Each person draws a piece.

  "Remember," Armani says, snapping everyone’s heads toward him as he rolls his chair back away from the spotlight. "The thrill of the game is not letting anyone know who you’re sniffing out."

  They each pull back their chairs, putting space between them as their friend had. Then, they unfold the papers to find out who their targets are.

  Armani curses under his breath.

  Annie puffs out her cheeks.

  Jaiden clicks his tongue.

  Laura lets out a soft "Oh."

  Zoey folds the paper and shoves it deep into her hoodie's pocket. Her eyes meet Armani's, curious and steady. His gaze drifts to the snake tattoo coiling around her neck; she doesn't bother to hide it, or her real hair. But something else makes him stare longer—her hoodie, tattoo, relaxed brows, yet intensely focused eyes. She looks so much like Bryan. A mini-Bryan, he thinks, resting his forearms against the round table. He maintains the eye contact, soft but unbroken. He offers her a sheepish smile. She flips him off in response.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Annie whines. "What am I supposed to do now? Can't I just say directly who I'm going to stab in the leg?"

  Jaiden hurries to correct her. "Annie, chill! No one’s stabbing anyone. You’re just spying on your target, remember?"

  Annie whines again, stomping her feet. "But I wanted to kill someone." Her eyes turn to Zoey. "Don't you want to kill someone too?"

  Zoey blinks, dumbfounded, watching Jaiden try to kick some sense into Annie and her malicious tendencies.

  Armani gazes at the masked girl. He sees light catching her lashes and brows. He squints a bit, and to his surprise, her roots are blonde. His brow twitches. How has he never noticed she’s actually blonde? That sudden discovery makes her a bit more... interesting to him.

  He notices Laura following his gaze, her brows rising as she realizes he's been staring at Zoey. She squints suspiciously at him, silently accusing him of cheating on her sister. Armani sighs, a familiar weight settling in his chest. He knows she'll spend the entire evening scolding him, guilt-tripping him for crushing on someone other than Annie, or she'll just keep teasing him about it. He's not sure.

  Zoey stands up. "I suppose this shit is over. I'm leaving."

  Armani stands as well. "Well, nothing more to talk about now. We'll meet here in two days." His eyes follow Zoey as she pulls her hood even lower over her head and makes her way out.

  Annie wheels her chair toward Jaiden, whispering, "Psst. I'll tell you who I'm going to cut off their leg if you tell me who you're going to cut off—"

  "Annie! We are not cutting off anyone's leg!" Jaiden says, shivering.

  Laura puts a hand on Armani's shoulder, standing a little too close. Her voice is intimate. "She looks cute in that hoodie, don't you think?"

  Armani blinks. "What?"

  Laura glances at Annie and Jaiden arguing, then leans closer to whisper. "I'm not going to be mad that you're cheating on Annie with Zoey, but don't lie to me." Her eyes meet his. "I know you've been cheating on her all the time, but I'm not blaming you. I mean…" She glances once more at her sister, lost in conversation, her voice dropping even lower. "Annie isn't that pretty."

  Armani frowns. His brain can't comprehend what he has just heard. Did Laura just talk shit about her sister?

  Laura's tone turns serious. "Anyways, there's something I need to tell you." She glances at their friends again, making sure they don’t notice them whispering. "But not here."

  Armani follows her outside through the building's back door, where the grass grows a bit taller, tickling their legs as they walk toward a spot with no one around. Laura stops and turns to him, taking a step closer and glancing left and right to make sure no one else is nearby.

  "You're Bryan's right-hand guy now, right?" she whispers. "It’s not like you just happened to get the right-hand tattoo while Jaiden got the left."

  Armani stops breathing. The color drains from his face. His lips part, but no words come. Only a shallow gasp.

  Laura lifts a hand quickly. "Don't worry, I'm not telling anyone. That's why I brought you here."

  "How did you find out?" he manages, throat tight.

  "Armani, I'm not dumb," she says, "I see how Bryan treats you differently."

  Her words slice through him. Having Laura figure out that he’s not just some random guy working for Bryan, but his right-hand man, changes everything. If she knows, others might too. He still can’t wrap his head around how his cover got blown. And if one person found out, it’s only a matter of time before the rest do. Before they realize he’s actually a spy.

  Jaiden will take it the hardest. His best friend, Bryan’s right-hand man, secretly acting as his spy, and never telling him? That’ll destroy him. Especially now, with Kevin and Lazlo gone, and Jaiden still dreaming of earning a place among Bryan’s VIP circle.

  But if the others find out, they won’t think he’s working with them. They’ll think he’s working against them. Even if he was the one who got shot today.

  He draws in a deep breath, voice dropping. "Laura, no one can know this."

  "I know," she says quickly, then peeks around again. "But listen, I talked to Zoey this morning. She said she suspects Bryan and his men had something to do with Hunter’s disappearance. She didn’t say much about you, but…" Laura hesitates, lowering her voice. "I think she knows you’re special to him."

  "Hunter disappeared?" Armani’s eyes widen. "That’s why he wasn’t there with Bryan recently?"

  Laura nods, tension flashing across her face. "You need to be careful. Today she missed her shot; next time she won’t." She falters, correcting herself. "I mean… I didn’t see her with a gun. I’m not sure. Anyway, she’s dangerous, you know, and you gotta watch out."

  A bitter exhale escapes him. Finally, someone else besides him is suspecting her. She’s not a normal girl like how everyone sees her, she’s a cold-blooded murderer. And she’s tied to Bryan in a way deeper than he’ll ever be.

  Wearing his hoodie after shooting him wasn’t a coincidence. It was a message: Yes, I shot you. I know what you are. And you can’t touch me, because I matter more to Bryan than you ever will.

  He puts his hands on his shorter friend's arms. "Laura, don't tell anyone about this. Especially Jaiden."

  Laura puts her warm hands over his. "Don't worry about that, just be careful."

  He starts walking away, but her voice hooks him mid-step. "Hey, wait."

  He turns back to her.

  She approaches him again, a dangerous grin lighting up her face. "I have an idea." She bites down on her lower lip, unable to suppress her smile. "How about we make Zoey fall in love with you?"

  "Laura, what are you saying?" Armani snorts.

  "Hear me out," she says. "We'll try to make her fall in love with you. Or, at least you two get closer. Then, you can go into her room and, you know, stay with her for some time. You'll search her room when you can to see if she really has a gun. You'll also learn more about the virus since she's keeping it in her room, and you never know what she's going to do with it."

  Armani doesn't look convinced.

  She goes on, "This girl was raised by Hunter and Bryan, she’s dangerous, we need to make sure she won’t lash out on us, even if she was not the one who shot you. You know, keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

  Armani thinks for a moment, then clicks his tongue. "I don't like her, and I don't think it'll work."

  "Look, it's easy, really easy," she says, "You'll show her that you care about her, and I'll tell her nice things about you. Also, she looks like she has a pretty face under that mask." She inspects her friend's reaction.

  Armani ponders, brows furrowed. "But what if she's not pretty?"

  Laura shrugs. "We can make her hate you."

  "We?"

  "Yeah, I'll help you make her fall in love with you then hate you. Just leave it up to me." Laura's confident smile presses at him.

  Armani takes a deep breath, then clicks his tongue again. "Why can't Jaiden do this? He already likes her."

  "I know, but he's not as sharp as you. If he's put in a room with her, the last thing he'll think of is that she has a gun and a virus that can kill all of us. You know how slow he is." Laura laughs. "Only you know how to make a girl fall in love with you and make her spill her guts." She winks.

  He stares for a long beat, still not convinced. But, at least he’d have something to keep him occupied while he’s here. "Well, let's give it a shot."

  On the other side of campus, Zoey sulks her way toward the girls' dormitory, one hand tugging her hood down to hide her neck tattoo and her hair. She’s tried contacting Hunter again. Still no reply. Could their argument really have been that bad? She’s also texted Matilda and Bryan. Nothing. No calls, no replies. Suddenly, she feels utterly cut off. Abandoned.

  A pair of white sneakers appear in her path. She looks up slowly to the happy face of a girl. "Psssst," the girl whispers.

  Zoey puts a hand on her neck to cover her tattoo.

  "Do you want to come to last year's prom? The one that got canceled?" the girl whispers conspiratorially.

  "Prom?" Zoey has heard the word but never been to one, thanks to being homeschooled and constantly monitored by Hunter. She doesn’t know what prom is, but it sounds like something girls care about.

  "The first of November. All the nuns are going on an expedition, so we're holding it in the garage," the girl explains, leaning closer. "You in?"

  "Expedition?" Zoey hesitates, then shrugs. "Sure, why not?"

  The girl beams and pulls out a handmade card—paper and stickers, with Prom VIP invitation scribbled across it. She slips it into Zoey’s hand. "Don’t tell any adults. If they find out, it’ll get canceled again." Zoey nods, and the girl walks away, stopping yet another girl to secretly invite her.

  Inside Genevieve Hall, Zoey examines the card in her hand. Her other hand absentmindedly toys with the folded paper she got during the game earlier. In the corner of her eye, she catches the towering figure of a man. Out of vigilance, she shoots a look at the silhouette. A tall, dark-skinned janitor stands with a dry mop and a bucket, wearing tight, purple clothes. His shirt looks ready to tear from his huge upper body muscles, and a purple hat shades his face. The janitor looks up, his eyes following Zoey as she walks down the hallway. For some reason, her skin tingles, and her eyes can't leave the janitor. Her heart instinctively picks up pace. She turns into a corridor, unsure where it leads, and looks behind her. The janitor leaves the bucket and strides toward her with the mop, his lips whispering something. Zoey turns around and takes a deep breath, her hands clenched into fists, just in case.

  "Hey, wait, don't walk away," the janitor shouts in a shushed tone, looking around as he approaches.

  "Keep your distance," Zoey hisses, her leg sliding back slightly, fists at chest level.

  Seeing the fierce look in her eyes, the janitor's feet halt. His palms go up in the air. "Woah, chill. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm…" He looks around and curses under his breath when he spots a few girls here and there. "Listen." He takes a step closer, but Zoey's fists go up, ready to fight.

  "Go away and don't follow me." Her voice is menacing.

  The janitor stutters, "I'm sorry if I scared you, I'm—"

  "I said, go away!" Her voice rings in the almost empty hall. She retreats, walking backward while keeping an eye on him.

  The janitor's broad shoulders droop as he sighs. Zoey turns and paces, walking away from him.

  "Pearl, wait!"

  "Pearl?" Zoey's heart skips a beat. Her feet slow down until they stop. That name sounds familiar, yet unusual.

  Pearl. That word, apparently a name, is in Hunter's notebook. Or is it a symbol? A secret name for something? Another word with a hidden meaning?

  Zoey turns around, trying to make sense of the word. But the janitor is gone. She hurries back to the main hall, but he's nowhere to be seen. Even the bucket is gone. As if he was a ghost that appeared and vanished instantly, just to puzzle her and give her a reason not to sleep at night.

  "Pearl..." The word fits in her mouth too easily, its sound is familiar to her ears. Yet, no memory arise, just a chill down her spine.