Esme sprinted down the empty highway, Luke's limp body dragging behind her, his heels skipping against the asphalt. Her heart pounded—not from exhaustion, but from adrenaline.

When the looming shape of the old hospital came into view across Paradise Hotel, she skidded to a stop.

Without wasting a moment, she rushed into the hospital's entrance, scanning the signs on the walls that pointed to various departments. When she spotted "Surgery" marked on the fifth floor, she dashed into an elevator.

As soon as the doors closed, she slammed her hand against the button for the fifth floor. As it began to move, she pulled out some thin rope from her pocket and began tying knots around Luke's wrist while she slung his arm around her neck to secure it better.

The elevator doors opened, and she found herself dragging Luke along with the shovel she had taken. Mark said Divina wanted to kill him, but Esme felt it was better to give him a surprise. It's not a normal day that Uden Academy students end up going to an actual hospital.

As she glanced around the brightly lit floor, her eyes were drawn to a receptionist's desk positioned against one of the walls. A transparent plastic barrier still shielded the desk—a leftover precaution from the coronavirus years ago.

The pandemic had once brought the world to its knees, but vaccines had long since reduced it to a managed threat. The hospital, however, felt abandoned.

She pushed into a surgical suite washed in harsh white light. The hallway beyond was lined with open doors, each revealing empty rooms and sterile silence. In the centre stood a silver operating table, a heart monitor beside it emitting a long beep.

She quickly unplugged the monitor, muting the sound.

"Can't have him waking up yet," she muttered, though a flicker of unease tightened her chest.

She told herself this was necessary.

He'd killed Melany and Teagan.

She was just making sure he couldn't hurt anyone else.

Esme hauled into the operating table a looped rope tightly around his torso, pinning him against the metal frame.

He was still groaning, but he wasn't going anywhere.

"Stay put," she muttered.

The surgical light clicked overhead, washing everything in harsh white.

Luke tried to lift his head.

She shoved him back down.

"Nope."

She grabbed the nearest scissors and cut away his shirt, tossing the fabric aside.

Blood and bruises told the story she had witnessed seeing.

He was dangerous.

He'd killed people.

That was enough.

She tested the scissors through Luke's hair by cutting small pieces. As she lifted her gaze, she noticed a surgical light above them and turned it on, directing its beam directly over his face.

It wasn't that Esme enjoyed the pleasure, but she got to show how much stronger she was. All of this she could do by herself because she's the speed demon.

Superheroes were supposed to work in teams. At least that's what movies said.

Esme didn't need a team.

She was faster than all of them.

Esme began snipping at the rest of the armless side. It wasn't exactly working, but rather just caused a small cut in the skin.

She picked up the scalper.

The metal felt colder than she expected.

Luke twitched when she moved closer.

She tilted her head slightly.

The blade touched his shoulder.

She glided it along the rest of it, leaving her staring with a dropped jaw.

Hearing a stir, she leaned her face over Luke's. When he blinked multiple times and looked around, he gritted his teeth.

"Let me out!" he barked, his face puffy from James' punch.

Esme leaned over him. "No."

That was all she gave him.

He spat the blood to the side. "When I get free, James is dead."

Esme grabbed some latex gloves from the box near the doorway and slid them on. Grabbing the small nub, she held it up for Luke to see.

"I did you a favour," Esme stated.

"You'll die when I'm free," Luke spat.

"Good luck catching me, Lukey. I'm the fastest one around here," Esme gloated. She grabbed a pair of forceps and examined them. "These look like tweezers."

She plucked a small piece of his brow and pulled it back, causing Luke to grunt. She noticed an empty patch in his light eyebrows, and using her quick speed, she ripped off the rest of his eyebrow hair, which fell to the ground.

"I've never been good at doing my own eyebrows," Esme sighed.

Luke's face twisted at her words, as he didn't even have eyebrows left to show his emotions.

"This could be the start of my makeup career," Esme chimed.

"Girls look even worse with makeup," Luke snarled.

"Who said I was the one getting the makeover?" she sneered.

Esme scanned the room for anything that could give Luke a new look, by all she found were some machines that she didn't know how to use.

She stared at the anesthesia machine besides the operating table. Tubes curled from it like plastic snakes.

"Sleep gas," she whispered.

At least, she thought that was what it did.

She yanked the mask free and shoved over Luke's face just as his eyes widened.

"What are you—"

His voice muffled beneath the rubber mask as he thrashed against the ropes.

Esme smacked a random switch until the machine hissed to life.

A sharp burst of air blasted through the mask.

Luke jerked violently, trying to turn his head away, but she held the mask down with both hands.

"Hold still!"

The machine gave an uneven wheeze.

Luke's movements began gradually weakened—not peaceful, but sluggish and unfocused.

Esme loosened her grip slightly.

"Huh," she muttered.

His eyes rolled halfway shut.

Whether he passed out from the gas, exhaustion, blood loss or all three, Esme didn't care.

"Perfect!" she exclaimed.

Without wasting another moment, she dashed out of the room in search for actual scissors. The surgery pairs they had in there wouldn't cut through Luke's thick hair.

She rummaged through the reception desks, opening drawers one after another until she stumbled upon an unexpected treasure: candy canes.

She stuffed all seven candy canes into the pockets of her leggings. She never wore anything but her athletic clothes anymore—anything else felt like it slowed her down.

She opened another drawer, revealing scattered papers scattered and a pair of scissors. Although they weren't the scissors used for cutting hair, she knew this would definitely work.

As she rushed back into the surgery room, Esme wasn't sure how long this kept Luke unconscious. She pulled away the machine that had been on his mouth, since he was knocked out cold. She began snipping away sections of hair from his forehead.

It still amazed her that James had managed to beat him up. The image of James delivering that hard punch made him a badass.

"Maybe I should leave him some hair," Esme whispered.

Her hands paused for half second.

James would probably think she's insane.

Then she shrugged it off.

This situation reminded her of Ashley, whose hair had been mostly yanked out due to Divina. She was such a rebel of unpredictable behaviour often veered into sadism, creating a strange blend.

At least for now, Luke wouldn't be a nuisance. His plans had backfired in one area, especially with having James punch him.

Esme couldn't help but find James endearing in his own geeky way. There was something cute about how deeply he immersed himself in his laptop, oblivious to everything around him. The way his tousled hair occasionally fell into his face only added to the dorky allure.

Now Luke would stay tied up until Greyson figured out where she'd been hiding Luke. She thought about just telling Nevaeh that Luke had left town for no reason. It would make Greyson furious, but he could find the information from someone else.

Snipping more hair off, Esme wanted to burst into laughter. She knew he would be enraged not just by his appearance, but also by the humiliation of being defeated by a younger girl.

Luke's face was still swollen, and the fallen nub of his arm lay discarded on the floor. Blood had seeped onto the rope, staining it with dried remnants instead of fresh crimson. He wouldn't die from his wounds, but he had already disappointed Greyson.

Esme rushed back to the reception desk, as she grabbed a blank filing paper. She took hold of a black pen and scrawled in thick letters the words "I'M A LOSER."

Speeding back into the blue room where Luke was restrained, she tucked the note under the rope near his torso. Standing there with her hands firmly placed on her hips, she nodded at her work. This would keep him trapped for a while, especially since he didn't have a ride.

Slamming the door forcefully behind her, she quickly grabbed an office chair and pressed it against the door. The chair refused to lean properly due to its wheels, but she knew it would cause him to trip.

She hammered the elevator button.

The doors barely finished opening before she slipped through them.

By the time she reached the lobby, her pulse buzzed beneath her skin. She checked the bottoms of her running shoes that were still intact.

"Nice."

She tightened her pigtails and burst from the hospital entrance.

The empty highway stretched ahead of her.

No traffic.

No adults.

Nothing fast enough to catch her.

Cutting across the hospital's expansive parking, she briefly stared at Paradise Hotel for a moment. It was a luxury hotel that rich people had gone to stay in this small town. Esme wondered if anyone actually stayed in that place.

Sh shrugged, and sped away from the beige hotel and down the highway. The road was quiet, devoid of any sign of life or activity. Scattered along the highway were several cars, some flipped over without the car alarm beeping.

"Speed Demon can't be caught," Esme said, grinning. Rushing off into town, Luke would enjoy his new makeover that she had applied. After all, sometimes boys need makeovers too.

Greyson's body burned with anger as he turned a sharp glare on Preston. "He did what?" he snapped.

"Luke killed Melany," Preston said, hesitating. "And Cindy got stabbed Cindy in the eye. Emma's healing her now."

Inside the safe house, Greyson paced the room while Preston delivered the update about Luke's ambush.

"And where is Luke now?" Greyson demanded.

Scarlett let out a laugh."Two disasters in a row," she quipped, flipping through a stack of old magazines on the coffee table.

"James beat him up, though," Preston said, with a half shrug.

"James beat up Luke?" Greyson scoffed. "That's unlikely."

"He's a freak who can increase his strength," Preston explained.

Greyson pushed back from the kitchen chair, the chair legs scraping loudly against the floor. The fact James was a freak who never told his powers made Greyson's glare shift to Scarlett.

"Did you know this?" he hissed.

"Of course," she replied smoothly, not bothering to look up as she flipped through the magazine.

"We had a deal," Greyson growled, as he stepped closer and towered over her. "What rank?"

"Medium," Scarlett said with a smirk, crossing her arms. "But he's nothing like that freak who flopped robbing Burger King."

Greyson's gaze snapped toward Preston. "Where is he?"

"Emma's healing him now, since Luke shot him," Preston replied.

Luke had disobeyed every order. Greyson was sure he'd never told him to shoot or kill people; those violent moves were the last thing he would have wanted.

Scarlett planted her hands firmly on her hips. "You're facing problems way higher than James' rank."

"He's leading anyone until he earns it back," Greyson hissed.

Preston's voice was grim. "Teagan and Melany are the only ones who died. A few others were injured."

Greyson had hoped Luke wouldn't fall back on his violent tactics. That hope shattered, he began pacing the room as he but his pinkie nail.

"No one's going after Luke," Greyson declared sharply.

He wasn't about to help Luke, especially after his failure to follow orders was unforgivable. Luke might be useful in a fight, but this was an ambush, not a full-scale war.

"I'll create a new plan for taking Jason down. We're heading back to Uden and no distractions," Greyson said firmly.

He strode to the door and stepped out into the cool night air. Shadows slithered between the trees, tangling in the tall weeds like something alive.

He made his way to one of the parked SUVs.

Henry was behind the wheel, and Greyson settled into the passenger seat. Scarlett, Preston, and Stick clustered together the back.

Greyson glanced over his shoulder at Stick and caught the faint lift in his eyes. He seemed to be finally getting out of that sorrow phase.

Henry glanced at Greyson. "Should we go looking for Luke?"

"No," Greyson said flatly, crossing his arms. "We'll do this my way, and that doesn't include hunting down Luke."

He was convinced Luke was hiding somewhere, too scared to face what was coming. Let him cower. He wouldn't escape the punishment he deserved.

Greyson had bigger plans.

Tomorrow was the fight against Jason and their birthday.

Fifteen.

The age Carlson and others vanished.

No matter what, he had to be ready to take control.

Scarlett's voice was dry. "You won't come up with a solid plan if all you're doing is fighting your brother."

"Jason will vanish tomorrow," Greyson declared with a confident smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back, arms clasped behind his head. "That means I'll be the one ruling this place."

They arrived at the school and climbed out. Greyson scanned the grounds, spotting security standing stiff and alert under the glow of floodlights.

"We'll talk in the office," Greyson commanded, striding into the building and heading up the stairs to the spacious room.

He leaned back comfortably in his chair. Scarlett followed shorty after, gliding to the plush couch and crossing her legs with a smirk. His eyes stayed locked on Henry and Finn, waiting their responses.

"The ambush went as planned," Henry muttered. "The only reason they got away was that freak ice freak."

Greyson rested a hand on his chin, considering Jade's aid to Jason. He still had Maverick and Preston on his side with their powers.

Eden wasn't much help, but maybe she could turn things around.

Finn grumbled, arms crossed tightly. "After they left, the ice took forever to melt."

"Do whatever's best for tomorrow," Greyson ordered. "Even if most of you end up just being part of the crowd."

Henry nodded. "Sure."

With that, Henry and Finn turned on their heels and strode out of the room.

As they left, Scarlett sprang to her feet with a sly smirk curling her lips. She planted her hands on her hips, standing in front of the desk.

Greyson muttered under his breath. "At least some of them know what they're doing."

James lying about his powers fuelled Greyson's anger, though James wasn't a high rank, which made Scarlett's reveal all the more satisfying.

Scarlett sighed, placing both hands slowly on the desk. "Thugs will do anything."

Greyson raised an eyebrow. "Do you think Eden would beat up Luke?"

Scarlett snickered, shaking her head. "It was entertaining watching Luke get his ass kicked when Will streamed the whole thing live across the school. But honestly, now Eden would probably just smack him on the head."

Eden Weber was a student at Uden Academy, who used to clash with Luke so often that security guards had to escort them both to class. But she'd changed.

Now, she mostly used her powers to cloud people's thoughts, avoiding physical fights all together.

Greyson thought back to the seventh grade, when he first started developing his telekinesis. He remembered accidentally knocking over his own binder in class and later showing Scarlett how much he'd improved. Even then, he sensed his parents weren't truly his own.

His parents had never talked much about him since he was born. There were barely any pictures or even vacations. Both teachers, they spent most of their time working, and whenever he asked questions, their answers were vague.

Scarlett was the first person he'd ever admitted this to during reform camp. The camp was a place to straighten out their behaviour. It was the only time he'd let his guard down.

On the fourth night of the seven-day, Scarlett opened up. She told him how she emailed the school board that her mother had become a stripper. And because of the scandal, it had sent Scarlett to Uden.

Greyson had always guarded his vulnerability, convinced that exposing it would leave it open in ways he couldn't control. It was a part of himself he kept locked away, never meant to be shared.

When Scarlett heard the truth, she didn't mock him. She sat beside on the bed in his cabin, her hair down, her expression soft with sympathy for once. And in that quiet moment, Greyson realized that beneath all her teasing and mockery, he'd already fallen for her.

After spilling everything, he'd kissed her. It was was awkward, because he hadn't exactly figured out how to kiss a girl yet. But the feeling behind it had been real.

Scarlett had given that famous smirk with one eyebrow arched, but her words hadn't been all mockery. Something like, "That was unexpected," or maybe, "I already knew."

He couldn't exactly remember. All he knew was that his body had already given in to the feelings he'd tried to ignore..

Despite his hesitation, his body moved on instinct, pulled by emotions he couldn't surpass. His heart pounded, anticipation tightening in his chest. When he kissed her again, she kissed him back.

Since that night, something undeniable had taken root inside him. Whenever she leaned in close, he found himself kissing her—even in public, something he'd never normally do.

At first, he told himself it was about control, about claiming power over The Bubble, but deep down, he wasn't sure anymore.

But was the feeling he got when she touched his cheek or stood close to him really about control, or was it something else entirely? Something he'd never felt with his parents?

"Dauntless leader, hello?" Scarlett's face was suddenly inches from his, snapping him out on his thoughts.

"What?" Greyson asked, bewildered.

"Henry asked about tomorrow's fight," Scarlett said, her tone laced with irritation. "You're totally out of it."

She circled the desk and stopped right in front of him.

"I'm not," he snapped.

Those feelings kept resurfacing, no matter how much they tried to dismiss what happened at reform camp. They might say it was just a fleeting moment—nothing more than lust or impulse—but to him, the emotions has stayed, quietly lingering beneath the surface.

In that moment, everything felt effortless and natural. When he pressed his lips to hers, Scarlett didn't pull away but kissed him back, stepping closer. Her fingers tangled in his hair.

Suddenly, she pushed him just enough to catch her breath, both of them panting from the electric rush of emotions crashing over them like lightning.

With the office door shut and the hallway empty, no one saw what happened inside.

Their eyes locked, both aware of the emotions that were simmering between them. The intensity grew until Scarlett leaned in and kissed him fiercely.

Greyson knew Scarlett hadn't been the first to initiate their kisses before, but he usually was. Unlike when he used Emma, where feelings were absent and it was all just a secret, this time, it was real.

The kiss deepened, sending a chill down Greyson's spine as Scarlett's hand slid under his shirt. She lifted it over slowly his head, letting it drop to the floor.

They paused, eyes narrowing as they stared at the discarded fabric on the floor, then locked their gaze again.

Scarlett reached for her own shirt, ready to pull it off, but then her movements faltered.

"No," Scarlett said, breathless.

"No?" Greyson repeated.

Swiftly, she stepped in front of his desk, watching him from the side.

Greyson's heart hammered inside his chest as he pulled his shirt back over his head, his breathing uneven.

"We're not doing that," Scarlett said firmly.

Greyson straightened reluctantly and sank in his office chair. "Why?" he asked, hating the vulnerability in his own voice.

"You've got people to lead, and we're in an office," Scarlett said.

"The door's shut," Greyson remarked.

"Haven't you heard of intruding?" Scarlett sighed, one eyebrow arching. "Remember when you got caught? This isn't reform camp. You know exactly what will happen if we push this here."

Heat crept up Greyson's neck. Was it embarrassment or actually realizing the truth of Scarlett's words?

"You vanish tomorrow," she said, staring at him. "Focus on that."

"I won't vanish. Jason will and I won't," Greyson said.

The daycare felt wrong.

Silence had never lasted so long. Even the children's whispers seemed muffled, swallowed by the tension hanging in the air. A cold weight settled in Ilya's chest as she looked around the room, finding fear in every corner.

Teagan's death hung over the daycare like a storm cloud.

Just days ago, she had been helping passing out snacks and calming frightened toddlers. Now her spot sat empty, a constant reminder of how quickly everything could be taken away.

Several children had crawled onto her lap, pressing their small bodies against her for comfort. A few of them had been knocked over during the chaos, their small heads bruised from hitting the hard floor.

Layla approached quietly, cradling an injured toddler in her arms.

"Emma said she'll stop come when she's finished with Cindy."

Layla hesitated.

"Cindy was stabbed in the eye."

The words struck Ilya like a punch.

"And Melany didn't make it."

A heavy weight settled in Ilya's chest.

Before Emma had stepped up in the infirmary, Melany had been essential. She was calm and steady, the kind of person who made even the worst injuries seem manageable. The children trusted her. So had Cindy.

She dragged the back of her sleeve across her face.

It didn't help.

Fresh tears blurred her vision before she could stop them.

Exhaustion crawled at her, mixing with a rising tide of dread.

Everything that had was all too much, and it wasn't over.

"They're looking for another doctor," Layla said quietly. "Someone besides Cindy."

Ilya's gaze drifted to Angel, who was silently sweeping up shards of broken glass. Behind him, the door still hung broken, ripped clean off its hinges when James had torn it off with brute force.

The destruction had left everyone on edge, their nerves frayed and tempers short.

Ilya knew she couldn't keep keep doing this alone forever. Her responsibilities were stretched thin, but her focus never wavered. The children needed her. That was all that mattered.

Layla stepped into the smaller room where most of the children had been resting with Bailey. They were still managing with just five staff members, but Rose—a quiet third grader—seemed especially shaken by everything that had happened.

Rose clutched the sleeve of her sweater.

"Ilya?"

"Yes?"

"What if he comes back?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Ilya hesitated. Then shook her head.

"I don't think so."

She slowly stood from her spot on the soft blanket, careful not to disturb the children nearby, and made her way into the bathroom.

Inside the cramped bathroom, she slid open a small drawer and pulled out her medication. The nearly empty bottle stared back at her. She shook it once. The hollow rattle of a single pill echoed—a reminder of how little she had left.

Tomorrow the bottle would be empty.

No refill.

No pharmacy.

No guarantee anyone even knew what medication she needed.

A wave of anxiety crept up her spine as she stared in the mirror, searching her own reflection for answers, but finding only doubt and exhaustion.

Managing daily routines here was a constant struggle, especially when caring for the children. Bathing them had become one of the hardest tasks, so they always moved around or refused to get washed in the shower.

She tipped the bottle into her palm and stared at the single remaining pill. Tomorrow, there would be nothing. She placed it on her tongue.

The pill left a bitter taste in her mouth, and a sudden wave of dizziness swept over her. She closed her eyes briefly, gripping the blue counter to keep herself steady.

Her thoughts drifted away from herself, settling on the children that were fragile and dependent on her care. Though her own mind felt like it was unraveling, their needs always came first.

She leaned closer to the mirror.

Luke's fingertips still marked her skin.

The bruise spreading across her chin was ugly enough, but what unsettled her the most was remembering how helpless she'd felt when his hand closed around her throat.

Her body trembled still.

She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face, trying desperately to steady herself.

After turning off the tap, she paused, staring at her reflection. Her face was wet not just from the water, but from tears she could no longer hold back.

A wave of helplessness washed over her. She couldn't afford to think about her own safety.

With a heavy heart, she found herself praying that no further tragedy would befall them.

Ilya wasn't the one to take charge if Greyson and Jason disappeared. Both were strong leaders in their own ways.

Luke had been sent by Greyson, though James said Luke wasn't supposed to do that.

Jason had stepped up to manage much of the chaos that followed.

Nevaeh had warned them all about the fires and a girl who was terrorizing Ashley.

She grabbed a towel and wiped her face, cleaning away water and tears. A few damp strands of her black hair clung to her cheeks, but she doubted anyone would notice.

Taking a steadying breath, she opened the door and stepped back into the main room.

Ilya sank back onto the blanket, picked up a book, and swallowed hard.

"Read it again!" a boy who hadn't been hurt during the chaos shouted eagerly.

Most of the children still clung to their fear, but a few seemed oddly unfazed. Ilya couldn't help but wonder if those were the ones from Uden Academy.

Leaning against the wall, she felt the children gather closer around her. With a faint smile, she opened the book and began to read.

She had to protect the daycare, and more importantly the children. She had become a mother figure to all of them, with the help of the daycare staff.

Doesn't seem Greyson's happy what Luke pulled... which means the vanishing is soon.
-Lexi