Kieran's Point of View
Mr. Halden glanced up from his desk, his usual calm demeanor still intact. "Jean, you'll need to head to the office to fill out some paperwork for your transfer. Go ahead and take care of that now, alright?"
Jean gave a slight nod, the same unreadable expression on her face. She stood there for a moment, waiting, and I couldn't help but notice how she just... didn't give a shit. She was calm, unaffected by the chaos around her, like she belonged here already.
"Whatever," I muttered under my breath, leaning back in my chair, eyes still locked on her.
But something about the way she carried herself tugged at me. It was like I'd seen her before.
That look she gave me when she left? I couldn't shake it. I knew her. I fucking knew her.
Where? When?
I felt this weird itch in my brain. Like she was some ghost from my past, one that I'd erased on purpose. But the feeling... the vibe she had? It was familiar. Too familiar.
She wasn't just some random new kid. Nah, she was someone I should've known. Hell, maybe I did know her once upon a time.
I scratched at the back of my neck, my thoughts all over the place, but nothing made sense. The room around me didn't even matter at that point—just this nagging feeling that I'd crossed paths with her somewhere before.
Then she glanced at me again—just a flash of eye contact before she left the room—and that was enough. The look she gave me? Like she knew something about me. Like we'd been in the same shit together before.
I bit my lip and tried to focus. Was I losing it? Or was she some kind of ghost from a past I didn't want to remember? Fuck if I knew. But I was going to find out. Somehow.
As the door clicked shut behind her, I snapped out of it, leaning back in my seat, jaw tight.
Who the hell is she?
Three damn periods passed. Still no sign of her.
Not that I was waiting — fuck no. Just… noticing. That's it. But every time the door creaked open, my eyes shot up like clockwork. Nothing. Just the usual faces I already hated.
Then Jennie plopped down next to me like she owned the air I was breathing.
"You've been acting weird," she said, her tone sharp. "What's going on with you?"
I didn't answer at first. Just stared at the front of the room like it might cough up answers.
"I've seen her before," I said finally, voice low. "Or someone like her. I don't fucking know."
Jennie tilted her head, watching me too closely. "You sure? You don't usually forget a face."
"Exactly," I muttered.
My gaze flicked to the door again, and for a moment, I felt something shift—a strange, unexplainable sense of dread. I didn't want her, the new girl, to come back in. Hell, I didn't want her to walk through that door ever again.
Something about her made the air feel thick. It was like she was a storm I couldn't outrun, and no matter how hard I tried, she was bound to wreck everything I'd built here.
I hated that feeling.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
Jennie's Point of View
I was about to say something else to Kieran, but then my phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking the moment.
I pulled it out quickly, glancing at the screen. A message.
📩
From: J
Message: We need to talk. Meet me on the 2nd floor. Now.
"Shit," I muttered under my breath.
Kieran didn't seem to notice, lost in whatever was still turning in his head.
I swallowed hard, stuffing the phone back into my pocket, feeling a wave of tension creep up my spine.
I glanced at Kieran again, and his eyes were still distant, still locked on the door, like he was waiting for something—or someone—to walk in. It was all I could do to keep the calm, cool face I always wore.
"I gotta go," I said, standing up quickly, not giving him a chance to dwell on whatever was going on in that messed-up head of his. I needed to get out of here. "Listen," I added, trying to soften my tone, even though I could feel the nervousness creeping in. "You're just overthinking it. The new girl probably just reminds you of someone from before, that's all."
But even I wasn't buying that. Something was off. Kieran wasn't the type to get hung up on things, especially not over some new girl. But he didn't need to know that. Not yet.
I hurried up the stairs, my footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The second floor was always quieter, more isolated. It had the kind of silence that made you feel like you were about to uncover something you weren't supposed to know.
When I reached the top, I spotted her—Jean, the new girl. Yes, she.
Jean was already there, like she'd been waiting hours instead of minutes. Calm as hell, as usual, but her eyes said otherwise.
"Does he remember?" she asked, straight to the point.
I shook my head slowly. "Not really. Just... flashes. Like déjà vu that won't leave him alone."
Jean swore under her breath, barely loud enough to catch. "It's too early."
"He's not connecting dots yet. He just knows your face messes with his head." I shrugged. "Can't blame him."
She looked away, jaw tight, like she was already calculating the next hundred steps. "Once it all clicks into place... everything changes."
And she was right.
This wasn't some casual secret we were babysitting. It was bigger than us. Bigger than Kieran's memory loss or my late-night check-ins. This was the plan — the one our mothers crafted like a damn prophecy. A playbook designed not just to protect us, but to keep the people around us breathing.
It wasn't a contract.
It was a blueprint for survival.
And it revolved around us.
Me.
Jean.
Kieran.
And the fourth — the one always in the picture, just quiet. Watching. Waiting.
He's been part of this since the beginning. Sat in the same rooms. Knew the same secrets. Bled for this thing too. But his part? That hasn't been triggered yet. His piece is still face-down on the board. Not forgotten — just… waiting.
Jean's voice dropped, eyes flicking toward the stairwell like someone might be listening. "All four of us were chosen for a reason. We play our parts, or everything falls."
I nodded. Because that's the truth.
And when the fourth finally steps into his role?
Shit's really gonna begin.
Jean's eyes hadn't moved from the stairwell, like she was expecting Kieran to show up any second and blow everything sky-high.
I watched her a beat longer before asking, quietly, "When are we gonna tell him?"
She didn't answer at first. Just exhaled through her nose like she'd been holding that question in her chest for too damn long.
"After he turns eighteen," she said finally. "And only when he's ready. Not a minute before."
"Jean…" I started, but she cut me off.
"I know," she said. "I want to tell him too. But if we do it too early—if we rush it—he'll walk away. Or worse."
The air between us hung heavy with silence for a second. Then Jean squared her shoulders, voice turning cold.
"Until then… you need to act like you don't know me."
"What?" I blinked, frowning. "Why the hell would I—?"
"Because if he sees us getting along, he'll start asking questions. Questions we can't answer yet." Her tone didn't waver. "You're the only one he trusts. If you get close to me now, it'll mess with his head."
I didn't like it. At all. But I understood.
"Fine," I muttered.