When they returned to Simcoe, Jason was sprawled across Bella's couch, his head pounding from the blow Greyson had landed. Scarlett had intervened just in time. It was a miracle they'd escaped before anyone got killed.

Bella sat on the edge of the couch, blonde hair pulled in a loose ponytail. A bandage wrapped her thigh where the nail had struck. Cindy had treated it quickly when they got back, steady hands even as it was bleeding.

Zane had gone back to the fire station to regroup.

Jason couldn't see how they were supposed to hold anything together with the town coming apart like this.

Mark had guided Scarlett straight to them. Jason still couldn't make it sit right in his head.

Esme had taken off somewhere in town, insisting she needed the freedom to run wild. Jason found it odd that Luke hadn't followed after her.

Bella crouched beside the couch. "Are you okay?"

Jason lifted the ice pack from the back of his head and winced as the dull ache beneath his scalp intensified. He suspected a mild concussion—the world seemed to blur just enough to unsettle him whenever he moved.

The memory of a teammate taking a hard hit to the temple during volleyball flashed through his mind, reminding him of how fragile the body could be.

He exhaled through his teeth, the room tilting slightly as he moved. "I'm okay."

Bella's fingers brushed gently over the back of his head, steadying him with a warm, ground touch that seemed to ease some of the pain.

But his thoughts kept drifting back to Ashley. Zane had mentioned how she'd torn through most of the wall at Uden.

Scarlett had ranked Ashley's powers low. Jason wasn't sure if that meant anything anymore.

First, everyone fifteen and older had vanished. Then Simcoe had been sealed inside a barrier.

Jason shivered, thinking about the purple substance and what it might have done to Ashley. He should've been thinking about homework, or figuring out what to do on the weekend. Instead he was wondering if his stepsister was turning into something that might not even be human anymore.

Bella gave his hand another gentle squeeze, offering a smile that made the chaos outside seem distant.

He hesitated. Bella had always seemed more interested in the older students, and he'd never imagined she'd look at him this way. But she was here, bending beside him, treating him as though he mattered when everything was falling apart.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned forward and kissed her.

For a few seconds, those who vanished, the bodies in the streets, and the strange things happening to Ashley faded from his mind.

When he pulled away, Bella's cheeks turned pink.

"Thank you," he murmured, suddenly unsure what to say.

He pushed himself up slowly, wincing as sharp pain shot through his side. The room tipped, and he had to sit back down to steady it.

Bella's hand lifted to his temple, wiping away dried blood.

"You need to focus here," she said quietly. "Simcoe is falling apart in front of us."

Returning home didn't feel right—too exposed, especially with Ashley, his stepsister, acting so distant. He was meant to grow up in a house with a twin brother, someone who was his exact opposite, yet now everything felt fractured.

"I need to figure out what's really going on with Ashley," Jason muttered, catching the flicker of worry in Bella's eyes.

Bella inhaled deeply before meeting his gaze. "Zane told me there's another hole on Park Street," she said. "Some kids didn't make it."

Jason's fingers dug into the edge of the couch. For a moment, he couldn't bring himself to speak.

He knew he had to check if anyone was hurt—and maybe close off the road before someone foolishly jumped into the hole for a thrill. The thought of death caused by a reckless leap made his stomach churn.

Bella pressed gently on his shoulders, and winced at the sharp pain. "No," she said, frowning. "Zane and others are already working to rescue the survivors. But with you and Greyson possibly next, we need to find a way to stop it."

The front door flew open, and Esme stumbled inside so quickly she nearly collided with the wall.

For someone who could outrun anyone in Simcoe, she looked frighteningly slow now. Blood streaked her knees, her breathing came in ragged burst, and her legs trembled beneath her.

"I pulled more out of the hole," she gasped. "And people saw Ashley doing it this time." She paused, then added, "Xander and Harvey are burying the bodies. Emma's healing some of the survivors."

She tried to take another step but her knees buckled.

Bella hurried to the fridge and grabbed her a bottle of water.

Esme pushed herself up, grabbing a napkin from the table to dab at her knees. As she cleaned away the blood, deep gashes exposed torn flesh.

"Nothing I can't handle," Esme murmured weakly, raising a shaky bloody thumbs-up.

Then immediately, she staggered and collapsed onto the coffee table.

Esme lay sprawled on the table, limbs stretched like a starfish drifting in the ocean. With a dazed smile, she accidentally knocked medicine and clothes off the surface, sending them tumbling to the floor.

"Sorry about the bloody table," Esme mumbled.

Jason watched as Bella tried to lift Esme off the table, only to get kicked in the stomach by the girl who was still unconscious.

Bella groaned and stepped back, staring at Esme still face-down on the table. There was no point moving her now; she clearly needed the rest. Scrapes lined her elbows, making Jason wonder whether she'd fallen or been attacked.

"I wonder how many made it out okay?" Jason murmured.

"I swear, I've become a full-time nurse," Bella sighed.

Eventually, they'd need to contact Melany and fill her in on everything unraveling in Simcoe. But for now, maybe rest was the only thing keeping them from falling apart.

"I'll find someone to get Melany or Cindy," Bella said, moving toward the door. "Emma's probably overwhelmed as it is."

Around town, people had started chasing reckless thrills, from bike tricks in school hallways to joyriding stolen cars. Everyone had their own kind of carelessness, like they were trying to prove they were still alive.

Scrapes and burns weren't just from fights anymore—something deeper was driving it.

"Okay," he mumbled, letting his eyes close.

Rest could wait only so long. Once he was steady enough to stand, he'd investigate the burials. Zane and Xander couldn't keep carrying the town's dead between them.

Graves were beginning to fill Clifton Park, each one marked by a small wooden cross assembled from whatever art supplies they could find.

Ilya and the younger kids made the crosses while Xander, Mark, and Yara handled most of the digging. It was a grim diversion of labour for a town full of children who should have been worrying about school, not deciding where to bury their neighbours.

He wondered how many more crosses they'd need before this was over.

Thinking of Mark, Jason wondered if he'd even started helping with the burials. As much as he resented Mark for what he'd done, maybe he hadn't had a real choice. With the way Greyson and Luke operated, Scarlett could've easily convinced him that torture was the alternative.

The front door opened without warning.

Jason flinched at the sound. Pain pulsed behind his eyes, and for a moment, Nevaeh's figure blurred against the doorway.

She scanned the room, taking in his bruised face, Bella bandaged thigh, and Esme sprawled across the coffee table. Then she nodded to herself as she'd just confirmed suspicion.

"Correct, as I suspected," she announced with a casual wave, then slammed the door shut behind her.

Jason and Bella exchanged blank stares, unsettled by the unexpected visitor. Nevaeh's appearance felt out of place, especially since she was snooping around.

Scarlett leaned back on the wooden bleachers, her eyes drifting to James hunched over his equipment.

Greyson had gone to check on Luke, probably to stop him from turning Stick into a human science experiment with whatever he'd stolen from Home Hardware.

In the old world, torturing someone was a crime. So was murder, even if you confessed to it. Here, the rules were different. Luke could get anyway with almost anything, provided he didn't push things too far.

Sometimes at school, they gave him the longest suspension they could, which was a week.

Scarlett stood, stretched; the bleachers groaned as she sauntered toward James.

"Cameras ready?" she asked.

James didn't look up. "All set. Just need Collin."

Scarlett pressed a finger to her lips. She patted his head, making her way toward the old locker room.

The place often looked like a prison room, with cement flooring, small lockers, and showers hidden behind thin curtains.

She heard screams before pushing open the door as she walked down the stairs of teal-and-black stone. When she pushed it open, Greyson sat on a bench while Luke had a knife out. Blood oozed onto the floor from both Stick's head and arms.

"Get Collin!" Scarlett called, her face scrunched at the sight.

Luke never punished anyone out of duty. He sickly enjoyed it too much for that.

The headmistress always got mad at him. He couldn't do much since he was watched like a hawk at school, but he would still punch or slap people for fun.

"Keep going," Greyson ordered, barely glancing up as the two of them rushed up the stairs. "Collin's on outside patrol. Scarlett, get David."

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Try not to make Collin fall in love with you while I'm gone."

She turned down the hallway. Inside, one of the classrooms, David sat near the back, eyes distant as a few Uden students argued over snack rations at the front, sorting through the makeshift food system.

"Hey, Scarlett!" Will called, waving from his seat.

"David," she said smoothly, stepping just inside the doorway. "Someone wants you. Said it's urgent."

David stood without protest, though his neck flushed red and his eyes darted nervously to the floor. His blond hair was clipped so short that the overhead lights glinted off his scalp glisten.

"Collin wanted to talk to you," Scarlett whispered, beckoning him with a flick of her finger as she turned down the hallway toward the gym.

David hesitated, then followed, rubbing the back of his neck, lips pressed tight, dimples sinking in.

When they stepped in to the gym, James was still stationed near the camera setup, worse trailing like vines.

Greyson hadn't brought Collin in yet. David paused, eyes scanning around the space with visible confusion, like he already knew something wasn't right.

Scarlett rested a hand lightly on David's shoulder. "He'll be here soon," she assured him, hiding her smirk.

"Let me down!" Collin's deep voice snapped through the gym as Greyson held him suspended in the air.

Collin was bigger than most guys who age, a solid wall of muscle beneath his baggy clothes. His black cap sat backward on his head as he locked eyes with a David.

"Since you might vanish any second, we needed David here," Greyson said, dropping Collin onto the chair. "This is a test."

James glanced at his watch, voice clipped. "Two minutes."

David lurched forward, desperate to reach Collin, but was stopped mid-step—his body locking up as Greyson's invisible force held him in place.

"Even if you disappear, Collin..." David swallowed. "I still like you."

James glanced at the timer. "Thirty seconds!"

Collin stared at David, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he looked as though he might say something.

"I like—"

The words died on his tongue.

He was gone.

Greyson rushed to one of the cameras, fingers flying across the controls as James pulled up the playback.

The footage flickered as James dragged the playback slider backward.

"Wait." He stopped the recording. "Look at his eyes. He's watching something."

Scarlett leaned closer to the screen. At the edge of the frame, a purple blur flickered into view, barely visible against the background.

Greyson froze the footage.

"What the hell is that?"

James zoomed in. The shape sharpened slightly, revealing something that almost looked like an arm reaching toward Collin.

Scarlett turned to the two of them. "Ashley?"

It was the only name that Ashley made sense. Ashley was the one with that strange purple substance laced through her body—the same one who's ripped holes in the school like paced.

"There's more to this," James said, eyes still glued to the screen. "Collin didn't just vanish. Someone or something convinced him to go along with it."

Luke came back into the gym, holding a bloody ruler.

"Stick isn't dead," he sneered, rolling his eyes.

"We might have found a way to stop it," Greyson said, eyes fixed on the paused footage.

Luke scoffed as the footage, and laughed bitterly. "Some purple blob? Yeah, right."

"Shut up, Luke," Greyson snapped.

Scarlett glanced at David. He stood frozen, eyes wide and unblinking, his whole body trembling.

He should have known better than to let himself attached. People vanished without warning at fifteen.

"You bitch," David spat, his hands shaking.

Automatically, he pulled out a shotgun from underneath his thick sweater and fired directly at her.

Scarlett ducked, throwing her hands over her head and squeezing her eyes shut.

Run, her instincts screamed.

But where? Moving would only give him another target.

A sharp gasp broke the silence.

When she opened her eyes, David was already falling.

A gunshot rang through the gym. The shotgun slipped from his hand and clattered across the floor as he collapsed.

Scarlett stared at him, unable to process what she was seeing. Then she looked up.

Greyson stood up with one palm outstretched. He'd caught the bullet in midair and redirected it.

He saved her.

Luke sneered. "Guess that worked out."

He grabbed David's lifeless body by the ankles and dragged him through the emergency exit. The heavy door slammed shut behind them, leaving only silence.

Her heart hammered wildly as she rubbed the sweat from her trembling palms onto her blackened leggings. If Greyson hadn't caught the bullet's path, she wouldn't be breathing now.

Nearby, James carefully extracted the USB from his laptop.

"This footage will uploaded to a file," he said quietly. I'll enhance it, see if anything jumps out."

Scarlett glanced back at the spot where David's body had been—only a dark puddle of blood remained.

She left the gym without thinking and headed for the girls' bathroom. She grabbed a brown paper towel, wet it in under the cold sink, and stared at her reflection.

David was just another boy. She barely knew him.

There was no reason to think about it.

She stared at her reflection and rubbed at the mascara beneath her eyes. Her hand wouldn't stay still.

She pressed her pinkie beneath one eye, trying to wipe away the smudge. It only spread.

She'd seen people get hurt before. She'd seen Luke drag bodies out of the school before, this shouldn't be any different.

So why couldn't she stop shaking?

When she returned to the gym, she found the bloodstain spread across the floor.

She crouched and scrubbed it until the paper towel tore in her hand.

Once the floor was clean, she crumpled the soaked rag and tossed it into a nearby garbage can. The blood and the body were gone. Maybe now she could finally calm down.

"If Collin agreed because of something or someone, then I have to refuse it," Greyson said firmly.

Scarlett's eyes flickered to Greyson. He didn't have to stop the bullet—he could have let it hit her. Even after everything, after last nights fight, he still chose to save her.

Emma sat stiffly on the infirmary cot, staring at the wall. The thought wasn't new, but today it felt sharper, more solid than before.

Breaking up with Greyson would change things. Maybe it would finally quiet the insecurity that had been gnawing at her. They had been together for five months, and yet, for the last two, she'd felt herself slipping away from him.

She kept waiting for something to change, but deep down she knew it wouldn't.

Abruptly, Emma stood from the cot. "Can I step out for a bit?" she asked.

Melany scanned the empty infirmary before nodding. "Sure."

Ever since Emma started helping in the infirmary, minor wounds no longer felt life-threatening. Fixing bodies was easier than sitting still with her own thoughts.

Her healing ability was stronger than most expected, though it came with drawbacks. She got nauseous around broken bones, and the smell of blood made her stomach turn.

Emma hurried outside and swung her leg over her pink bike—the same one she'd used during Uden's old gym sessions, back when things were normal.

The pedals resisted her first push, stiff beneath her feet as she wove around the wreckage scattered across the roads. The ride was rough, but she followed the mapped-out safe route anyway.

When she reached the front gates of the academy, Emma jumped off her bike and let it fall to the ground with a soft clatter. No one questioned her presence anymore.

As Uden's healer, she had clearance to go wherever she was needed.

Emma didn't need to guess where'd he be. Greyson would be in the headmistress's office—working nonstop to detect the pattern in the vanishing. He always worked like that when people depended on him.

With his birthday quickly approaching, there was an unsettling possibility that he might be one of those who vanished.

As she reached the office door, she paused, noticing it was firmly shut—an unnatural sign. She inhaled slowly, steadying her nerves, and knocked.

Before her knuckles met the door a second time, the door opened on its own. Greyson sat on the other side, his eyebrows drawn tight in confusion. She stepped into the office, the heavy scent of old books clinging in the air.

Goosebumps rose on her arms, though the room wasn't cold. It struck her as strange—none of his usual group were present. Not Luke with his sadistic smile, not Scarlett with her beautiful looks, not even James, who had spent every spare moment unraveling the same mystery as Greyson.

Emma dug her nails into her palms and shut her eyes.

"Um," she started, voice barely audible. "I want to break up."

The words came out too fast.

Greyson blinked, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. "You what?" he asked.

Saying it once had already left her chest hollow, but repeating it felt somehow unbearable. Her knees trembled beneath her, barely supporting her weight. She slowly unclenched her fists, and bit down on her lower lip to keep it from quivering.

"I want to break up," Emma repeated.

Relief washed over her so suddenly it frightened her. For months, she'd imagined how much it would hurt to lose Greyson. She hadn't imagined the lightness that came back with finally saying what she'd been too afraid to admit.

Greyson watched her in silence.

"Okay," he said simply.

He accepted it too easily. Was that a good thing? Or did it mean something had shifted between them long before this moment?

She had always been sensitive—prone to overthinking and second-guessing—but this time, it didn't sting the way she expected. Maybe because, for once, her heart was focused on something else.

"Don't go switching sides on me," Greyson said with a half-smile.

She froze in the doorway, then nodded slowly. The door clicked softly as she closed it behind her. Healing people was her new purpose—but if Jason and Greyson ever found themselves in danger, Greyson would come first.

"Focus," Emma murmured, slapping her cheeks lightly.

Staying close to Greyson had always been her choice, never an obligation. He had never made her feel trapped.

At least, that was what she'd told herself.

Esme had left for Simcoe to do whatever, but Emma had stayed behind at Uden, determined to make herself useful for the injured there. She now had patients at the infirmary now. People that needed her.

Emma descended the winding staircase, her footsteps echoing through the hall. On her way back to the dorms, she overheard whispers about stolen food. Lately, people had been raiding the cafeteria after dark, sneaking ice cream and hoarded brownies from the freezer.

At Uden, the official stance was that junk food led to "escalated negative behaviour." The warnings were printed on cafeteria posters like health propaganda.

Emma had never really understood the logic behind it—how brownies could lead to rebellion—but she suspected there was more control than science rules.

She pushed open the dorm door and stepped into a room already buzzing with low conversations.

A mix of girls and boys lounged across the couches, their faces tense.

Jade and Finn sat on one of the couches. Finn spoke in a hushed tone, his shoulders hunched.

Emma crossed the room and lowered herself into black beanbag chair across from them. Jade looked up, her eyes with silent shock fixed on Finn like she was still trying to process what she'd heard.

"What happened?" Emma asked.

"Stick hit Vickie with a car," Finn muttered, clutching a black and white pillow tight against his chest.

Emma's breath caught. Her arms gripped her seat, knuckles pale. The image hit her hard. Violence wasn't rare at Uden, but it still felt wrong every time.

You weren't suppose to hit someone. Not in the hallway. Not ever. Especially not when someone was just trying to cross safely.

"And where is he?" Jade asked.

"Torture with Luke."

Nobody wanted to face Luke's torture.

Emma's stomach twisted at the thought of injuries she wouldn't be allowed to heal.

As any Uden person knew, torture could kill you. Greyson usually ordered Luke to torture people, but sometimes Luke did it willingly. Someone had once hit him with a ball, and he'd broken their arm in response.

Nevaeh drifted into the room with a sly smile tugging at her lips, and the conversations thinned out immediately.

Everyone knew her ability worked. If you thought about a secret, she could hear it. The only way to keep something from her was to avoid taking about it.

"Murder?" Nevaeh mused, tilting her head. "That's interesting. Weren't you there too, Finn?"

Finn's breath caught audibly. He looked at her in horror, shaking his head fast and hard, like the motion alone could erase the thought from his mind.

Nevaeh likely already knew every detail of what had happened—just from the fragments people had thought too loudly. The kind of knowledge was dangerous.

She twisted a strand of her dark hair around her finger, then glanced at Jade with a knowing smirk. Jade didn't meet her eyes. She stared at the floor instead, silent and still.

Nevaeh had been Simcoe's gossiper before everything fell apart, but even at Uden, her talent for uncovering secrets remained the same.

Her talent for uncovering secrets was as vicious as Scarlett's games, but it was more effective. They said uncovering five secrets gave Nevaeh a headache, which usually lasted until she could rest. This gave her an overall understanding of everything going on and she could spread information like wildfire.

"Emma isn't letting me hear anything," Nevaeh sighed.

Emma forced herself to look away, focusing on the growing chaos beyond the door window. A student had suffered a concussion from the massive hole in the road, and another had broken his leg.

The fire crew was investigating, but whispers pointed toward someone—or something—with power. Ashley was the prime suspect; no one truly understood the extent of her abilities, but if they were stronger than Greyson's, everyone might be in danger.

Checking the inside of the large, outside garbage bin, Greyson peered down at David's lifeless body. The boy lay twisted and bloodied, half-buried beneath shredded garbage bags.

Luke stood beside him, tossing more waste on top.

"If anyone asks," Greyson said coldly. "David took his own life."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Easy enough."

If the truth slipped out, Jason would almost certainly organize a search party—a move that would strip Greyson of his grip on the mayoral role.

Without a word, Greyson slammed the lid shut. Together they walked away, their footsteps muffled by gravel, leaving the body behind in the trash.

David had just another face in the crowd—one Greyson hadn't even bothered to learn until Scarlett mentioned his name. He never wasted time searching for campus targets; that kind of torment was Luke's specialty.

"What's the plan for Stick?" Luke asked eagerly.

"Leave him be for now," Greyson replied, eyes narrowing. "We'll let him go tomorrow. No one can suspect we had anything to do with David's death."

Luke smirked darkly with the bat resting heavily in his hands. When he wasn't gripping some kind of weapon, it was the only time something felt off about him.

When they reached the dorms, Luke veered off toward the side of the building and disappeared from sight.

Inside, the hallways were mostly empty—most people had retreated to their rooms or were scattered playing games.

Greyson knew he needed to shower to wash away the stench of garbage. The boy who sorted food—David—was the one Greyson blamed for his actions. Unless someone stumbled across the decomposing body, they'd remain untouchable.

He opened his dorm door to find Scarlett sitting on his bed, her gaze fixed blankly at the wall. At the sound of his footsteps, she slowly rose to her feet, stretching her arms to rest on her hips. Her hair was pulled up messily, and she wore blue shorts and a black long-sleeved shirt.

"What are you doing here?" Greyson asked abruptly.

"I'm surprised you haven't thrown me out yet," Scarlett teased, stepping closer with a wry smile.

"I wouldn't," Greyson said.

Scarlett arched an eyebrow and pressed her lips into a thin line as if wrestling a question he rarely voiced. Despite her usual sharp confidence, there was a flicker of uncertainty beneath her poised exterior.

She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pulling him into a rare, genuine hug—no games, no hidden motives. He hesitated briefly before returning the embrace, his arms encircling her waist. Then, almost playfully, she'd pushed him back just enough to break the hold.

"For reflecting the bullet," Scarlett said simply.

Greyson blinked. "For the bullet?" he echoed.

"It's not every day someone stops a shot like that," she replied, arching an eyebrow as she drifted toward the bed.

"He was aiming at you," Greyson said.

Scarlett's expression didn't change. "Why, though?" she pressed.

Greyson didn't have an answer. Had he done it to protect himself, or just her? The question tightened in his chest, making his palms sweat.

Before he could speak, Scarlett let out a soft sigh, as if she already knew the truth he was trying to avoid.

"Emma ended it," Greyson muttered.

Scarlett laughed mockingly. "Still swimming around the question, huh?"

"I'm not swimming," he snapped.

Scarlett smirked. "Keep telling yourself that."

Some stirred inside Greyson—an emotion he couldn't name, heavy and unfamiliar. Even when he was with Emma, it had never been about feelings. Not like this.

Without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her.

Scarlett's hands landed on his chest, fingers curling his shirt. He slid an arm around her waist, and she let him.

Then, with a quiet push, she'd steadied back and rested a hand on her hip.

"Enough," Scarlett said, her voice cool. "So, does this mean I'm allowed to sleep here?"

"Yes," he sighed.

She grinned, tilting her head back. "You'd have let me eventually, wouldn't you?"

Which character are you most like in the series so far?
-Lexi