JAY'S POV — At Night
Home was quiet in a way that felt earned.
The kind of quiet that settles after a long day of performance—smiles, cameras, applause, judgment. I kicked off my heels near the door, letting my feet finally touch the cool marble floor, and exhaled slowly.
The crown sat on my desk.
I hadn't even bothered putting it away.
Symbols lose meaning the moment you stop looking at them.
I changed out of the dress with careful hands, folding the maroon velvet instead of tossing it aside. Old habit. Respect the armor, even after the battle.
Shower. Warm water. Steam fogging the mirror until my reflection blurred into something softer, less sharp.
By the time I stepped out, towel wrapped around me, my phone lit up on the bed.
A message.
Felix.
I frowned slightly. Felix wasn't a late texter. He was cautious. Intentional.
I picked up the phone.
✉️ Felix:
Section A's throwing a celebration tomorrow for the victory of the Basketball team.
I know it's weird. You don't have to come.
I just… thought I'd ask.
I sat down slowly.
Section A.
The words alone carried weight. History. Rivalry. Thinly veiled hostility dressed up as competition. Section E wasn't exactly welcome in their territory—especially after today.
Especially after me.
I stared at the screen, thumb hovering.
Why ask me?
Felix wasn't reckless. He wouldn't invite trouble without thinking it through.
Unless he already knew it was coming.
That thought settled uncomfortably in my chest.
Still—I hated being predictable. Hated retreating just because it was safer.
And maybe… maybe I wanted one night where none of this felt like strategy.
Just noise. People. Movement.
I'll come, I typed back.
Three words.
No emojis.
No explanations.
The reply came almost instantly.
✉️ Felix:Okay.I'll stick close.
That should've reassured me.
It didn't.
---
Morning
This time, I dressed differently.
No statement pieces. No velvet. No symbolism.
Denim shorts. Dark wash. Fitted top—nothing flashy, nothing delicate. It covered what it needed to, clung where it wanted to, and gave me full range of motion.
Hair down. Natural. Makeup light.
If the morning look was armor, this was camouflage.
I checked my phone again.
Swapped.
Always swapped.
By the time I stepped out, the city lights were already alive, pulsing with that careless energy only nights like this carried.
Celebrations are dangerous.
People stop thinking.
---
THE PARTY
The music hit before we even reached the gate.
Bass heavy. Loud enough to rattle windows. Laughter spilled into the street, lights flashing blue and purple, reflecting off water I could already hear sloshing.
Pool party.
Of course.
Felix walked beside me, hands in his pockets, jaw tight.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I always am," I replied.
He glanced at me. "That's not what I asked."
I shrugged. "Then ask better."
He huffed out a quiet laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Inside, it was chaos.
Almost every section was there.
Section B near the speakers, dancing like they owned the rhythm.
Section D half-submerged in the pool, loud and dramatic as ever. Section C everywhere—laughing, shouting, bumping into people without apology.
And conspicuously—
No Section E.
I noted it instantly.
Deliberate.
Felix was pulled away within minutes—teammates clapping his back, congratulating him, dragging him toward the drinks table.
"I'll be right back," he promised.
I nodded.
I was used to being the one left standing.
I drifted toward the edge of the pool, eyes scanning, senses alert.
That's when I heard it.
"Oh my god, stop pretending you don't care."
I turned.
Calix and Mica.
Of course.
They were standing too close to each other, arguing in low voices with matching smiles—bickering disguised as indifference. The kind of couple that thought they were subtle.
They noticed me at the same time.
Calix groaned. "Oh no."
Mica winced. "Please don't."
I smiled slowly. "Don't what?"
"Say it," Calix muttered.
I tilted my head. "You're holding hands."
They immediately dropped each other like they'd been electrocuted.
"We are not," Mica said too fast.
"You absolutely are," I replied. "Also, you're color-coordinated."
Calix looked down. "That was accidental."
Mica rolled her eyes. "You literally bought that shirt because I said blue looks good on you."
I raised a brow. "Adorable."
They both groaned.
"Please," Mica begged. "Not tonight."
"Relax," I said lightly. "Your secret's safe. For now."
Calix squinted. "That sounded like a threat."
"It was," I confirmed.
They laughed, tension easing, and for a moment—just a moment—it felt normal.
Too normal.
That's when he appeared.
Kiko.
Tall. Confident. Smile a little too practiced.
"Didn't think you'd actually show," he said, stepping into my space like he already belonged there.
"I didn't think you'd notice," I replied flatly.
He laughed. "Hard not to."
I didn't smile.
He held out a cup. Clear liquid. Ice clinking.
"Drink?" he offered.
I looked at it.
Then at him.
"No."
His smile faltered—just slightly. "It's just soda."
"I'm still good."
He didn't pull it back.
"Come on," he said. "It's a party."
Something about the insistence rubbed wrong.
I shook my head. "I said no."
People nearby laughed louder. Music surged.
Pressure hides well in noise.
"Don't be like that," he said, closer now. "Felix wouldn't want you standing alone."
That was the mistake.
Using Felix.
I took the cup.
Not because I trusted him.
Because I wanted him to stop talking.
I didn't drink immediately. Just held it.
We walked toward the far side of the pool, him talking about nothing—basketball, music, how "wild" today had been.
I took a small sip.
Barely anything.
Just enough.
It didn't take long.
My head felt… wrong. Heavy. Like my thoughts were dragging through water.
I slowed.
"Kiko," I said, my voice lighter than it should've been. "Something's off."
He tightened his grip on my arm. "You're probably just tired."
The lights blurred.
The laughter warped.
Then I saw him.
Felix.
On the ground.
Blood on his face.
My heart slammed so hard it hurt.
I yanked forward. "Felix!"
My legs betrayed me.
The world tilted sharply.
Arms caught me.
Kiko's.Too firm.Too ready.
"Easy," he murmured. "You're not feeling well."
I tried to pull away.
Couldn't.
Felix looked up.
Our eyes locked.
Fear—raw and desperate—not for himself.
For me.
"Jay," he rasped. "Leave."
My vision tunneled.
"They're… targeting you," he forced out. "You shouldn't have come."
I tried to answer.
My tongue wouldn't cooperate.
The music faded into a dull throb.
Felix's voice cut through it, urgent and breaking.
"Run.Jay."
"FUCKING RUNNN!!"
I didn't get the chance.
The ground rushed up.
Darkness swallowed the edges of my vision.
The last thing I understood—clear and cold—
This wasn't an accident.And whoever planned this…Had underestimated me.
Then—Nothing...