Reese Langford had always believed in control.
Control over optics. Control over people. Control over his life.
He moved through Eastwood High like a stage actor confident the spotlight would always follow him. Teachers smiled. Students laughed too loudly at his jokes. When he talked, people listened—even if they didn't understand a word he was saying.
He'd built a dynasty of smiles and silence.
And for the first time in years, it was starting to fracture.
It started with Kellan.
He'd always been volatile—too aggressive, too loud, but useful. A dog on a leash. Reese never trusted him completely, but he knew how to point him in the right direction and let him off when needed.
But over the last two weeks, something had changed.
Kellan stopped showing up to practice.
He didn't sit with the group at lunch anymore. Didn't make off-color jokes, didn't bark at freshmen. He started jumping at shadows, flinching at hallway noises, muttering under his breath.
When Reese tried to pull him aside, Kellan stared at him with bloodshot eyes and whispered, "He's coming."
No context.
No name.
Just those words.
And then he vanished.
Friday morning.
The remaining four—Reese, Cole, Devin, and Max—stood in their usual corner of the courtyard. The sun was sharp but cold, and the breeze carried a strange tension with it. The usual rhythm of school felt… off. Conversations cut short when Reese passed. Sideways glances. Silence that pressed on his shoulders like rainclouds.
Cole leaned against the stone planter, arms crossed.
"This is getting weird," he muttered. "Wicks hasn't answered anyone in three days."
"Maybe he's hiding from his girl again," Max offered. "Didn't she dump him in front of the gym?"
"Nah," Devin said. "He's really gone. Like—off-grid. I texted him ten times."
Reese didn't say anything.
He was already putting pieces together.
He'd seen the change in Kai Mercer.
At first, he hadn't paid it attention. Just another loner with new muscles and a stiff upper lip. Nothing special.
But something about the way the kid carried himself…
There was weight behind every movement. A stillness that wasn't nervousness—it was intent.
And he looked people in the eyes now.
He didn't used to.
That kind of shift didn't happen overnight.
It happened through pain.
"I think someone's messing with us," Reese finally said, voice low.
Cole blinked. "What, like… online?"
"No. Bigger."
Devin snorted. "You're paranoid, man."
Reese turned to face them all. "Look at me."
They did.
"Two weeks ago, we owned this school. Now Kellan's a ghost, half the teachers act like we're contagious, and people we used to own walk past us like we're invisible."
The silence that followed was thick.
Max scratched his head. "It's just… a phase, right?"
"No," Reese said. "It's not."
In the student lounge, he sat down with his phone and pulled up the school feed.
There was no direct mention of anything.
But he saw it in the subtext.
Photos where their table used to be—but wasn't anymore.
Clips of people whispering about "the locker note," "the girlfriend meltdown," "the fight behind the lot."
Whispers.
No proof.
But rumors didn't need proof to spread.
At lunch, Reese caught Mira Chen watching him from the far table.
Their eyes locked.
She didn't blink.
She didn't look away.
She smiled—barely. Like she knew something.
Something personal.
Reese's skin crawled.
After school, he gathered the remaining three in the empty bleachers behind the field.
"What if this is targeted?" he asked.
Cole frowned. "By who? Mercer? You really think that loser suddenly became some criminal mastermind?"
Devin nodded. "It's gotta be someone else. He's just… weird now."
Reese shook his head.
"You didn't see how he looked at me in the hallway. Like I wasn't a threat. Like he'd already seen the ending."
They all fell silent.
The wind whipped across the field, tugging at their jackets.
Cole broke it with a scoff. "Even if it is him, what's he gonna do? We've got pull. Connections. Hell, we could bury him in paperwork if we needed to."
"He doesn't care about paperwork," Reese said quietly.
And he realized something as he said it.
That's what made it terrifying.
That night, Reese went home and sat in the dark.
His father was in the living room, yelling into a headset—probably another late-night conference call or a press interview. The glow from the TV flickered over political graphics and talking heads.
Reese didn't care.
He stared at his ceiling, trying to connect dots.
Kellan was the first to fall.
Why?
Because he was weak? Predictable? Unstable?
No. Because he was the entry point.
Kai was testing them. Removing the easy pieces first. Sowing fear.
Reese's mouth went dry.
This wasn't about embarrassment.
It wasn't even about revenge.
It was erasure.
He checked his window locks twice before bed.
He never used to lock them.
He never used to wonder if he'd wake up with something missing.
Saturday morning.
Still no sign of Kellan.
Reese sent him a text:
"Where are you?""Call me. Now."
No answer.
He tried the group chat.
Devin and Max read the message. Said nothing.
Cole replied.
"This is getting f***ed, bro."
Reese stared at the screen.
Felt the hollow inside his chest widen.
By noon, he drove out to the back lot near the river—the one where Kellan used to hang with his "friends." The graffiti still bled down the walls. Beer cans and burnt cigarette butts littered the ground.
There was no sign of Kellan.
But there were drag marks.
Scuff trails in the dirt.
Something—or someone—had been dragged across the gravel recently.
He bent down.
Saw a smear of blood.
Not fresh.
But not old either.
His heart thudded.
He checked his phone again.
Still nothing.
And then—without thinking—he looked up, across the yard, toward the rusted fence line.
And saw Kai Mercer.
Leaning against a pole.
Not smiling.
Just watching.
Reese took a step forward, rage bubbling—
But Kai turned and walked away.
No words.
No rush.
Just gone.
Like he'd never been there.
That night, Reese didn't sleep.
He lay awake replaying every decision, every insult, every punchline at someone else's expense.
The things they did to Mira.
To Kai.
To others he didn't even remember anymore.
And in the darkness of his room, surrounded by trophies and awards and polished lies—
He realized something that chilled him more than the silence.
There was no one left to protect him.