The announcement didn't come with alarms.
No sirens.
No lockdown bells.
That was how Anabeth knew it was deliberate.
The screens across the compound flickered to life at exactly 9:00 a.m.—classroom displays, hallway monitors, even the outdoor boards usually reserved for campus events. A single emblem replaced schedules and announcements.
Hale's crest.
Students slowed. Conversations faltered. Professors paused mid-sentence.
Anabeth stood in the atrium when the feed shifted again.
Hale appeared.
Not prerecorded.
Live.
---
"Good morning," he said calmly, his voice amplified across the entire campus. "This will only take a moment."
Security teams moved instantly—but not to stop the broadcast.
To control reactions.
Doors sealed halfway. Exits remained open, but guarded. The illusion of freedom stayed intact.
Hale smiled faintly.
"I believe in transparency," he continued. "Especially when rumors become disruptive."
Anabeth felt the air thicken.
This wasn't about reassurance.
This was about claiming space.
---
Cassian watched from a secured room miles away, blood draining from his face.
"He's going public," Rafael muttered. "That's reckless."
"No," Cassian said quietly. "That's confidence."
Hale didn't look like a man defending his authority.
He looked like one displaying it.
---
"Recently," Hale continued, "there has been speculation regarding my involvement with this institution. Let me be clear."
The screen split.
Live footage appeared—Anabeth, standing motionless in the atrium, surrounded by students who suddenly realized she was the focus.
Gasps rippled.
Phones came out.
Fear sharpened into fascination.
"She is my guest," Hale said smoothly. "Her presence here is intentional."
Anabeth's pulse thundered.
"You're using me," she whispered.
The nearest guard didn't respond.
---
"She is also," Hale added, "safe."
Cassian slammed his fist into the table. "Don't say it."
"And anyone who believes otherwise," Hale finished, "is free to leave."
A pause.
No one moved.
Hale's eyes flicked—reading the data, the crowd density, the fear metrics.
"Good," he said softly. "Then let's continue."
---
Mara stood just off-camera, face pale.
"You're escalating," she hissed.
Hale didn't look at her. "I'm concluding."
"You're forcing Cassian's hand."
"Yes."
"And hers."
He finally turned. "She forced mine first."
---
Anabeth realized something then.
This wasn't retaliation.
It was correction.
Hale wasn't angry.
He was restoring equilibrium.
And that meant someone was about to be sacrificed.
---
"Cassian," Hale said, addressing the camera directly now. "I know you're watching."
Cassian stiffened.
"You always do," Hale continued. "You value awareness. Preparation."
The screen shifted again.
Another feed appeared.
Cassian's people—three of them—kneeling in a secured chamber. Bruised. Restrained.
One of them lifted his head.
Jonah.
Cassian's breath caught.
"You taught them well," Hale said. "They resisted interrogation. Admirable."
Anabeth felt the floor tilt beneath her.
This was it.
This was the line.
---
"I'm offering you a choice," Hale said calmly. "Not because I must. But because I respect consistency."
Cassian whispered, "Don't."
"Return," Hale said. "Publicly. Renounce Rafael. Acknowledge my authority."
He raised a finger.
"And one of them walks free."
Cassian's chest burned.
"Refuse," Hale continued, "and I make an example."
Silence swallowed the campus.
---
Anabeth stepped forward before she could stop herself.
"Don't," she said sharply, her voice carrying despite the chaos.
Hale's eyes flicked to her.
"Stay still," he warned gently.
"This isn't about control," she said. "This is about proving you still have it."
Hale's expression hardened.
"Everything is about control."
"No," she said. "Some things are about fear."
Murmurs rippled.
Hale lifted his hand.
The crowd fell silent instantly.
"You think you're changing the equation," he said. "But you're just revealing your own leverage."
He looked back at the camera.
"Choose," he said to Cassian.
---
Cassian closed his eyes.
Rafael grabbed his shoulder. "You don't owe him—"
"I owe them," Cassian said hoarsely.
He exhaled.
Then spoke.
"I'll come back," Cassian said. "On one condition."
Hale smiled. "Negotiation. How nostalgic."
"Release Jonah," Cassian said. "Now."
Hale tilted his head.
"And the others?"
Cassian's throat tightened.
He understood.
One life.
Not all.
"Jonah," he repeated.
A beat.
Then Hale nodded.
The restraints unlocked.
Jonah collapsed, coughing, dragged out of frame by medics.
The other two remained.
The cost was clear.
---
Anabeth felt something inside her crack.
Not fear.
Resolve.
She turned to the guard beside her. "Get me to Hale."
The guard hesitated.
She leaned closer. "Now."
Something in her voice cut through protocol.
Moments later, she was being escorted—not restrained, not free—through private corridors.
Toward him.
---
Cassian's image vanished from the screens.
The crowd erupted—panic, outrage, confusion.
Security moved fast, dispersing clusters, seizing devices, redirecting movement.
The campus returned to motion.
But not to normal.
---
Hale stood alone when Anabeth entered the observation room.
"You shouldn't be here," he said without turning.
"You made me the centerpiece," she replied. "You don't get to hide now."
He faced her slowly.
"I warned you," he said. "Influence has consequences."
She stepped closer. "So does obsession."
His jaw tightened.
"This ends now," Hale said. "Cassian returns. Balance is restored."
"You don't believe that," she said.
He laughed softly. "I don't need belief."
"You need validation," she countered. "That you're right. That everyone breaks."
He stepped closer.
"And if Cassian doesn't?"
Anabeth held his gaze. "Then you lose."
Hale studied her for a long moment.
Then—
He smiled.
"No," he said quietly. "Then I escalate."
---
Elsewhere, Cassian boarded the transport alone.
Rafael watched him go, fury barely contained.
"This is a trap," Rafael said.
Cassian nodded. "I know."
"You may not come back."
Cassian met his eyes. "Then make it count."
---
Back on campus, Anabeth stood at the window as lockdown protocols quietly deepened.
Hale's grip was tightening.
But so was his vision narrowing.
And for the first time since this began—
She wasn't sure who would break first.
internallyhardest.