I barely slept. The rain had stopped, but the courtyard still smelled like wet stone and panic. Every shadow in my dorm room seemed heavier, almost alive. My phone vibrated again. Unknown number.
> **TICK TOCK, VALE.**
I yanked the charger out of the wall, cursed under my breath, and shoved the phone into my backpack. Whoever the fuck this was clearly had it in for me.
Tessa was already up when I left my room, humming to herself like nothing had happened. "Morning, sleepyhead." She handed me a cup of black coffee.
"Thanks," I muttered, taking it and scowling. She didn't know. Couldn't know. How could I tell anyone that the world had just shifted under my feet and I had no idea which way was safe?
"You need to eat something," she said. "Even if it's just toast. You look like absolute shit."
I managed a sarcastic smile. "I look like death warmed over. Thanks for pointing it out."
She laughed, that easy, trusting laugh, and I felt a stab in my chest. Lucky me—someone I could trust.
---
### The Locker
I stopped at my locker to grab books, my fingers shaking as I rifled through the envelopes and notes that had started appearing. Someone had definitely been **watching me**. Every warning felt like a fucking whip across my nerves.
The envelope with that grainy photo of me behind the gym kept replaying in my head. My stomach churned. I hadn't been there. I hadn't done a damn thing. And yet someone was framing me, making it look like I had.
I shoved my stuff into my bag and moved down the hall, heart pounding, chest tight like someone had strapped a brick inside me.
---
### Lunch
The cafeteria was chaos. Rumors bounced around like bullets: a flash drive in Celeste's dorm, video, a list of names. Every table had someone whispering, eyes darting around as if fear alone could hide them from cops—or worse, from someone willing to kill.
I tried to sit with Tessa, tried to eat, tried to ignore the swarm of paranoia. But my stomach rebelled, twisting so hard I nearly dropped my tray.
"Vale, breathe," Tessa said again, touching my hand. Gentle, grounding. "You're fine. You're alive."
I wanted to scream at her that I wasn't fine, that everything was wrong and I was a walking target, but I swallowed it down, bit it back, and forced myself to eat a piece of bread. She smiled, totally unaware of the storm I was carrying.
From across the room, I noticed someone staring from the doorway—gone the next second, but the gut punch of fear it delivered stayed. Someone was watching.
---
### The Drive
Later, Tessa suggested we get out of the school for a while, maybe grab coffee somewhere quiet. I didn't argue. The storm inside me matched the chill in the air.
The streets were slick from rain, lights reflecting off wet asphalt like some fucked-up mirror world. I kept glancing over my shoulder, convinced someone was tailing us. Paranoia gnawed at me like a fucking rat.
Tessa chatted like nothing was wrong, her voice light and bright. I clung to it. Her presence was the only thing keeping me from losing it completely.
---
### Plans
By the time we got back, my head was spinning. Celeste's list, the flash drive, the threats—it all made me want to punch a wall and scream. I paced my room, running through every scenario, every person who could have wanted her dead.
"Who the fuck would do this?" I whispered, to no one in particular. "And why the fuck me?"
Tessa perched on the edge of the bed, calm, sipping her coffee. "Maybe it's nothing personal," she said. "Maybe you're just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Nothing personal?" I shot back, hands trembling. "Someone's dead, Tessa. And I'm getting fucking blamed for it."
She reached out, lightly touching my arm. "You're alive. That's what matters."
Her voice, her calm, her **entire fucking presence**, kept me tethered. Completely innocent. Completely unaware of the shitstorm I was walking into.
I sank onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed again. Unknown number.
> **YOU'RE TOO CLOSE. STOP LOOKING OR DIE.**
I shoved it under my pillow. My chest hammered. Every shadow seemed to twitch. Someone out there was watching, calculating, waiting for me to slip up.
Tessa came over again, cheerfully unaware of the storm inside me. "I thought you could use a little pick-me-up." She handed me snacks, smiling, completely innocent.
I forced a grin. "Thanks, Tess."
I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Celeste, the killer, and every twisted secret I'd just barely started uncovering.
And I realized: **this isn't over. Not by a long shot.**