The fluorescent lights above me flickered, buzzing like they couldn't decide whether to stay or give out completely. I stared up at them, unfocused, my mind still trapped in that hallway—the impact, the blade, the vanishing.
Gone.
That's what kept replaying. Not the pain. Not even the blood.
Just… gone.
People don't just disappear like that.
"Vale? Stay with me, okay?" the nurse said, her voice cutting through the fog. Her hands were quick, efficient, pressing gauze against my side, wrapping tight. Too tight. I sucked in a sharp breath and clenched my jaw.
"I'm here," I muttered, though it came out weak.
"You're going to need stitches," she said. "And we're calling an ambulance."
"No." The word came out faster than I expected. Stronger, too.
Everyone paused.
Tessa blinked at me. "Vale… you *need* a hospital."
"I said no." My voice dropped, steadier now despite the pain. "I'm not going."
I couldn't explain it—not without sounding completely fucking insane. But something about this didn't feel like something I could hand over to doctors, police, or anyone official. This wasn't random. This wasn't some school incident.
This was targeted.
Deliberate.
And if Lucian knew about it before anyone else…
Then whatever the hell I was caught up in wasn't just bad—it was *controlled*.
The nurse frowned. "You're in no position to refuse—"
"I am," I snapped, then hissed as pain flared through my ribs like something tearing all over again. "Just… patch me up. Please."
There was a moment of hesitation. A silent calculation.
Then, reluctantly, she sighed. "Fine. But if it's deeper than it looks, you *will* go."
I didn't answer.
Because I already knew—I wouldn't.
—
Time blurred after that.
Bandages. Antiseptic. The sharp sting biting into my skin. The dull, nauseating pull of thread dragging through flesh. I gripped the edge of the bed so hard my hands started to shake, knuckles white, breath uneven.
"Try to stay still," the nurse said.
"Yeah, I'm fucking trying," I muttered under my breath.
Tessa stayed close the entire time, her presence like the only thing keeping me from completely losing it. Her fingers wrapped around mine, warm, grounding.
"You're scaring me," she whispered at one point, her voice trembling just enough to make something twist in my chest.
I turned my head slightly, meeting her eyes. "I'm fine."
It was a lie. A shit one.
But she nodded anyway, because she *needed* it to be true.
—
By the time they let me leave, the gym was quiet. Too quiet. Practice had been canceled. Word had spread.
Of course it fucking had.
Tessa insisted on walking me back to the dorm, practically glued to my side like I might drop dead if she let go. Every step sent a dull, throbbing ache through my body, but I forced myself to keep moving.
Normal.
I had to look normal.
Even though everything felt completely fucked.
The campus looked the same—students talking, laughing, scrolling on their phones—but now it all felt… off. Like something was layered over it. Like I was watching it through cracked glass.
Anyone could be watching.
Anyone could be waiting.
I caught myself scanning everything—faces, windows, reflections in glass doors. My pulse spiked at every sudden movement, every shadow that stretched too far.
"Vale," Tessa said softly, "talk to me. Please."
I hesitated.
Then, quietly, "Do you believe in coincidences?"
She frowned. "What kind of question is that?"
"The kind where I almost get stabbed in a school hallway and the one person who's been threatening me just *happens* to show up right after."
Her grip on my arm tightened. "Threatening you?"
Shit.
I exhaled slowly. Too late now.
"It's nothing," I said quickly. "Just… messages. Probably some asshole messing around."
"A prank?" she repeated, disbelief sharp in her voice. "Vale, you were *attacked*."
"I know." My voice snapped before I could stop it. "I was there."
Silence fell between us.
Not angry. Just heavy as hell.
"I'm telling someone," she said finally. "A teacher. Security. I don't care—you can't just—"
"No." I stopped walking, turning toward her despite the way my side screamed in protest. "You can't."
Her eyes widened. "Why not?"
Because you'll get dragged into this.
Because whoever did this won't hesitate to come after you next.
Because I don't even know what the rules are anymore.
Because Lucian looked like he was already ten steps ahead of all of us.
But none of that came out.
"Because it'll make things worse," I said instead, quieter now. "Trust me."
She searched my face, like she was trying to see past the words, past the lie.
"I don't like this," she said.
"Yeah," I muttered. "Me neither."
—
That night, I didn't sleep.
Not even close.
I lay flat on my back, staring at the ceiling like it might crack open if I looked long enough. Every sound felt amplified—the rustle of sheets, footsteps somewhere down the hall, pipes shifting in the walls.
My side throbbed in time with my heartbeat.
A constant reminder.
I was *this* close.
Tessa eventually drifted off beside me, though she kept glancing over before she did, like she didn't trust me not to disappear too.
Smart.
I didn't trust it either.
I waited.
Watched.
Listened.
And sometime past midnight—
My phone buzzed.
The sound cut through the silence so sharply it made my whole body tense.
Slowly, carefully, I reached for it, every movement deliberate.
One new message.
Unknown number.
Of course.
My chest tightened as I opened it.
**You're harder to kill than I expected.**
For a second, I couldn't breathe.
Then—
Another message.
**But next time…**
Three dots blinked.
Waiting.
Dragging it out.
**I won't miss.**
"Fuck…" I whispered, my grip tightening around the phone.
I stared at the screen, my reflection faint in the glass. Pale. Wide eyes. Not scared enough—or maybe too scared to even react properly.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Don't reply.
That would be the smart thing.
So obviously, I didn't do that.
**Who are you?**
The reply came instantly.
Like they'd been waiting.
**You already know.**
My fingers went still.
A slow, crawling chill spread down my spine, settling deep in my chest.
Because deep down—
Past the fear.
Past the denial.
Past everything I didn't want to admit—
I did.
And that was the worst part.
Not the attack.
Not the blood.
Not even the fact that someone wanted me dead.
It was the certainty creeping in, quiet and undeniable—
This wasn't the beginning.
This was just the part where I finally realized I'd been in it all along.