Mira's POV
I didn't sleep that night.
How could I? I was in a warehouse full of criminals, sleeping on a cot in a storage room that smelled like motor oil and old cardboard. Mom was on the cot next to mine, but I could tell from her breathing she wasn't sleeping either.
Every sound made me jump. Footsteps in the hallway. Voices talking low. The creak of the building settling.
And I kept seeing Victoria's face in the doorway. That moment when she realized she'd found us. The triumph in her eyes.
She knew where we were now. She'd seen Dante's operation. And even though he'd scared her away tonight, what about tomorrow? Next week?
I couldn't run forever. Mom couldn't run forever.
"You awake?" Mom whispered in the darkness.
"Yeah."
"Me too." She was quiet for a moment. "Mira, we can't stay here."
"I know."
"These people—Dante—he's dangerous. This whole place is dangerous."
"I know," I said again. "But everywhere else is dangerous too. At least here, someone's willing to fight back."
"At what cost?" Mom sat up, and I could barely see her outline in the dim light. "What if he asks us to do something illegal? What if—"
The door opened. We both jumped.
Marco stuck his head in. "Boss wants to see you. Both of you."
We followed him through the warehouse. It was after midnight, but the place was still full of people. Some were packing crates. Others were counting money—huge stacks of bills on tables. Everyone looked up as we passed but nobody said anything.
Marco led us to an office in the back. The door was heavy metal, like a vault. He knocked twice, then opened it.
Dante sat behind a desk covered in papers and laptops. He'd taken off his suit jacket, sleeves rolled up. He looked tired, but his eyes were sharp when he looked at us.
"Sit," he said, pointing to two chairs across from him.
We sat.
"I've been doing research," Dante said without preamble. "On Victoria Sterling. Her family. The school. Everything." He turned a laptop toward us. The screen showed Victoria's social media—photos of her at parties, with friends, smiling that perfect smile.
"Looks normal, right?" Dante said. "Popular girl. Good grades. Student council president. But look closer."
He clicked through to older posts. From a year ago. Two years ago.
"See this girl?" He pointed to someone in the background of a photo. "Emma Richardson. Used to be Victoria's best friend. Then one day, she transferred schools. No explanation. No goodbye posts."
He pulled up another photo. "This boy—Tyler Chen. Star athlete. Dating Victoria. Then suddenly, he quit the team, deleted all his social media, and moved to a different state."
More photos. More people. A pattern emerging.
"In the past three years," Dante said, "twelve students have either transferred out of Westwood Academy or dropped out completely. All of them had some connection to Victoria Sterling. All of them left suddenly, with no explanation."
My stomach twisted. "She's done this before. To other people."
"Not just done it before. Perfected it." Dante leaned back in his chair. "Victoria Sterling has been systematically removing anyone she sees as a threat or annoyance for years. And nobody's stopped her because her father donates too much money."
"So what do we do?" I asked. "Even if we know about it, we can't prove anything."
"Actually," Dante smiled slightly, "we can. Those twelve students? I found six of them. My people are reaching out tonight. Offering them money and protection if they're willing to talk about what Victoria did to them."
"They'll never agree," Mom said. "They're probably too scared."
"Maybe. But money and safety are powerful motivators." He pulled out a folder and slid it across the desk. "And we have something else. Proof."
I opened the folder. Inside were printed photos—Victoria and her friends spray-painting lockers. Victoria dumping something on another student. Victoria and Marcus cornering someone in a bathroom.
"How did you get these?" I breathed.
"Westwood Academy has security cameras everywhere. They're supposed to be monitored, but the footage gets automatically deleted after thirty days unless someone saves it." Dante's smile grew. "I know a guy who works in the school's IT department. For the right price, he recovered six months of deleted footage."
"This is enough," Mom said, flipping through the photos. "This is actual evidence. We could take this to the police right now."
"We could," Dante agreed. "But the Sterling family would make it disappear. Money has a way of making problems vanish. No, we need something bigger. Something public that they can't cover up."
"Like what?" I asked.
Dante looked at me for a long moment. "How brave are you feeling, kid?"
Something in his tone made my heart race. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, if you really want to stop Victoria Sterling, you can't do it quietly. You have to expose her. Publicly. In a way that everyone sees and can't ignore." He leaned forward. "You have to go back to Westwood Academy."
"What?" Mom stood up so fast her chair fell over. "Absolutely not. She tried to kill us today!"
"Which is exactly why going back is the last thing Victoria would expect." Dante's eyes never left mine. "She thinks she won. She thinks you're running scared. If you show up Monday morning like nothing happened, it throws her off balance."
"Or it gets my daughter hurt!" Mom's voice shook with anger. "I won't let you use her as bait."
"I'm not using her as anything. I'm offering her a choice." Dante finally looked at Mom. "You can run. Take your daughter and disappear. Change your names, start over somewhere else. I'll even help you do it—new IDs, new city, enough money to get settled."
"Or?" I asked quietly.
"Or you fight back. You go to school Monday with a hidden camera. You record everything Victoria does. Every threat, every cruel word, every time she and her friends corner you. Meanwhile, my people work on getting those other students to talk. By the end of the week, we have enough evidence to bury Victoria Sterling and her whole family."
"That's insane," Mom said. "You're asking her to put herself in danger for a week. Anything could happen!"
"I'll have protection," Dante said. "Marco will be assigned to watch the school. At the first sign of real danger, he pulls Mira out. But I need video evidence of Victoria being Victoria. And she won't do that unless she thinks she's already won."
I looked at the photos spread across the desk. All those students Victoria had destroyed. All those people who'd run away just like I was about to.
If I left now, Victoria would find someone else to torment. Another kid who didn't fit in. Another family to destroy.
It would never stop unless someone stopped her.
"I'll do it," I said.
"MIRA—"
"Mom, she has to be stopped." I looked at her, trying to make her understand. "If we run, we'll always be running. Always looking over our shoulders. Always scared she'll find us again. This is the only way to end it."
"By risking your life?"
"By fighting back."
Mom's eyes filled with tears. "You're fourteen years old. You shouldn't have to fight like this."
"I know." My own tears threatened to fall. "But I do. Because nobody else will."
The room was silent except for the hum of the laptop.
Finally, Mom sank back into her chair. "If we do this—IF—I want guarantees. I want security. I want Mira pulled out at the first sign of danger."
"Done," Dante said immediately.
"And when this is over, we walk away. No favors owed. No strings attached."
"Also done."
Mom looked at me one more time, searching my face for... I don't know what. Certainty maybe. Courage I didn't actually feel.
"Okay," she whispered. "But the second things go wrong—"
"We're gone," I promised. "I swear."
Dante stood and extended his hand. "Then we have a deal."
I shook it. His grip was firm and cold.
"One more thing," he said. "Starting tomorrow, you're going to learn some self-defense. Basic stuff—how to break a grip, how to protect yourself, how to fight dirty if you need to. Marco will teach you."
"I don't know how to fight," I protested.
"You're about to learn." He walked us to the door. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow, your training starts."
Back in the storage room, Mom and I lay in the darkness again.
"I'm scared," I admitted.
"Me too, baby. Me too."
"Do you think this will work?"
She was quiet so long I thought she'd fallen asleep. Then: "I think Victoria Sterling has been getting away with being a monster for a long time. And monsters get sloppy when nobody fights back. So yes. I think it might work."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then we run so far and so fast she never finds us again."
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Monday. Walking back into Westwood Academy. Seeing Victoria's face when she realized I hadn't stayed gone.
Would she be angry? Scared? Amused?
Probably all three.
My phone—the one I'd turned off—buzzed on the floor next to my cot. I'd plugged it in to charge but hadn't turned it back on.
Except it was on now. The screen glowed in the darkness.
One new message. From Victoria.
Sleep tight, little mouse. Tomorrow, the real game begins.
My blood went cold. "Mom?"
"What?"
"My phone was off. I turned it off hours ago."
"So?"
"So it just turned itself back on." I showed her the message. "And Victoria just texted me."
Mom grabbed the phone, staring at it like it might bite her. "How is that possible?"
The phone buzzed again. Another message:
Did you really think a warehouse would keep you safe? I know where you are. I know who you're with. And I know exactly what you're planning. Sweet dreams.
A third message. This one was a photo.
It showed the warehouse. From outside. Taken tonight.
And in the corner of the image, barely visible in the shadows, was someone watching.
Someone who'd been there the whole time.
Watching us.
Reporting back to Victoria.
I ran to the office, Mom right behind me, and burst through the door without knocking.
Dante looked up, annoyed. "What—"
"She knows," I gasped, shoving the phone at him. "Victoria knows we're here. She's been watching us. Someone told her everything."
Dante's face went from annoyed to dangerous in half a second. He grabbed the phone, looked at the messages and photo, then hit a button on his desk.
An alarm started blaring through the warehouse.
"LOCKDOWN!" someone shouted. "WE'VE GOT A RAT!"
Within seconds, every door slammed shut. Men appeared from everywhere, weapons drawn, securing the perimeter.
And I stood there, realizing the horrible truth.
Victoria wasn't just rich and connected.
She had people everywhere.
Even here. Even in Dante's own organization.
We weren't safe anywhere.
Dante grabbed my shoulders, his face inches from mine. "Who have you told about being here? Who knows?"
"Nobody! Just you and your people!"
"Then we have a leak." He turned to Marco. "Find it. Now. Check everyone. I want to know who's been in contact with the Sterling family in the past six hours."
Marco nodded and disappeared.
Dante looked back at me, and for the first time, I saw something that might have been concern in his eyes.
"This changes things," he said quietly. "If Victoria has someone inside my organization, she knows everything. Every plan. Every move." He let go of my shoulders. "You can't stay here anymore. It's not safe."
"Where do we go?" Mom asked desperately.
"I have a safe house. Off the grid. Nobody knows about it except me and one other person I trust with my life." He grabbed his jacket. "Pack whatever you brought. We leave in five minutes."
As we ran back to the storage room, my phone buzzed one more time.
Run all you want, Mira. I'll always find you. Because this isn't just about you anymore. This is about teaching everyone what happens when they cross me. See you Monday... if you're brave enough to show up. But we both know you're not. You're just a scared little mouse who will always run and hide. Prove me wrong. I dare you.
I stared at those words, rage and fear warring inside me.
Victoria wanted me scared. Wanted me running. Wanted me to prove that I was exactly what she'd always said—weak, pathetic, not worth the space I took up.
And maybe I was all those things.
But I was also done running.
"Monday," I whispered to the phone. "I'll be there."
And this time, I wouldn't be alone.