I studied the guy as he introduced himself as Clint. With a casual wave of his hand, he signaled his group to move on, and they disappeared into the canteen crowd without a word. He slid into the seat beside me, his movements radiating a calm, dangerous confidence. The way he carried himself wasn't a lie; I could tell just by his tone that he wasn't inferior to Simon.
"Help with what?" Daniel asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"Dealing with that spoiled brat," Clint said, leaning in. "It's a win-win. Simon's been power-tripping, and he messed with one of my guys. That rich kid is always loitering around with his pack, but I heard they found a new target earlier today." He glanced at Jake. "I happened to overhear this one talking. I figured he was talking about Simon. So, how about it?"
Daniel didn't relax.
Clint stared him down, his expression unreadable. "Look, if I had bad intentions, I would've threatened you guys already. You don't need to be wary of me. Simon messed with my guy—" he pointed toward the student with the bruised face "—and I just need your cooperation to end it."
"You're cool, man!" Jake grinned, his thickheaded bravado returning instantly. "So, what do we have to do?"
"When Simon gets bored, he targets students for fun," Clint explained, "Extorting money even though he's loaded, and always silencing them afterward. The crazy part? Sometimes they turn the ones they bully into their own subordinates. They end up licking his boots for a 'promotion.' It's sick."
"Your point?" Daniel pressed.
"I'm telling you what kind of person he is. When he's busy making fun of a student, that's when he's most vulnerable. He only gathers his full squad when he's dealing with a large group. That's my opportunity to get back at him. I'll handle the rest—including getting him expelled. We won't rely on brute force alone. Most students are too terrified to talk. I noticed you guys actually have some spine. I just need witnesses."
Daniel leaned forward, his eyes searching Clint's face for any sign of a lie. "And how exactly are you going to do that?"
"It's better if you see it for yourself," he said, his voice dropping into that husky, commanding tone. "That way, every doubt you have will be answered. Meet me later at the gate. Don't head out on your own yet; it's too dangerous. You're already on their list."
I scanned the room, my eyes landing on the boy from earlier. Simon's group was already closing in on him again.
I reached out and pulled Jake's sleeve, whispering a warning. Jake bolted upright the second he saw them, ready to charge, but Clint reached out and caught his arm.
"Don't," Clint said firmly. "They won't do anything for now. They'll only threaten him. He's the bait. We follow them later and catch them all at once."
Jake finally calmed down, sinking back into his seat as the adrenaline faded. Clint stood up abruptly, adjusting his collar with a casual flick of his wrist.
"Well," he said, his voice dropping back into that husky, steady tone. "I guess that's all there is to it. I'll see you guys later."
With a sharp signal to his group, they turned as one and disappeared into the crowd, leaving us alone at the corner table.
Daniel stared at the empty seat Clint had just occupied, his face pale. "We're already on their list?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "Could it be... the moment he approached us..."
Daniel's head snapped up, his eyes scanning the cafeteria with a newfound fear. My eyes followed his. The group of bullies who had been circling the "bait" student weren't looking at him anymore. They were staring directly at us. Cold, predatory glares that felt like a death sentence.
Daniel's shoulders slumped as the reality hit him. "We have no other way out. The moment Clint sat down here, he made us targets too."
Jake frowned, looking between the retreating back of Clint and the trembling Daniel. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice still trailing with confusion.
Daniel stared at Jake, his eyes wide with a sudden, cold clarity. "He intentionally approached us," he whispered. "He sat here leaving us no room to refuse. By showing everyone—especially Simon's group—that he was talking to us, he took away our choice."
Daniel glanced back at the center of the canteen, where the glares from the bullies hadn't wavered.
"We have no other choice but to cooperate with him now," Daniel continued, his voice sinking. "But in doing so, he made sure of one thing: we've officially become the targets of those bullies. Whether we help Clint or not, we're already on Simon's list."
I stood up abruptly, the noise of the canteen suddenly feeling like it was pressing in on my chest. "I'm going to the bathroom," I muttered.
I headed for the exit immediately, not waiting for an answer. Jake started to scrape his chair back to follow me, but Daniel reached out and caught his arm, pulling him back down.
"If you hadn't noticed, Cale had been silent this whole time," Daniel explained, his eyes fixed on the door where I had just disappeared. "He doesn't want to be involved in this. Following him now will only seal his fate as one of us."
Jake paused, his bravado softening. "But... didn't they see us together already? The damage is done, right?"
"You're right," Daniel admitted, his voice sinking. "But that's why we should just go with Clint later and let Cale do his thing. I'm sure he'll do his best to avoid us now. Let's make sure we don't drag him into the center of it."
Jake looked down at the table, the weight of the situation finally settling on him. "Right..."
°°°
I headed straight for the library. If she was anywhere, she had to be here. I moved through the aisles, feigning a calm interest in the spines of the books, but my eyes were scanning for a familiar face—the girl with the books from the hallway.
Finally, I found her. She was sitting at a far table, a book open in front of her, but she wasn't actually reading. She paused far too often, her gaze fixed on a single page for minutes at a time. Her eyes weren't moving across the lines; they were frozen. I noticed her fingers twitching against the paper, a rhythmic, nervous habit. She was frantic, her mind clearly miles away from the text.
I stepped forward to approach her, but I froze in my tracks.
A few rows over, a guy was watching her. He had a fit, athletic build and thick arms that strained against his sleeves. He had a book open on the table in front of him, but he hadn't turned a page since I arrived. He wasn't even pretending to read. He was just observing her.
Was he one of Simon's guys? A sentry sent to make sure the "bait" didn't run?
I looked closer at his expression. His gaze wasn't cold or predatory like the guys in the canteen. It was intense, but different. It was the look of someone who admired her—someone who was completely captivated.
I gulped, centering myself. If my intuition is right that guy.. I'll take a risk..
I approached her table, keeping my movements slow and non-threatening. "Hi... can I sit in the empty chair next to you? If you don't mind."
The girl looked up, her eyes wide and startled. "Y-yeah, it's fine," she stammered
As I sat, I subtly tilted my head toward the guy I'd noticed earlier. My intuition hit the bullseye. He wasn't just watching anymore; he was fuming. The look he directed at me was pure, unfiltered rage—not aimed at the girl, but entirely focused on me for invading her space.
A shiver ran down my spine. This was real fear, the kind that makes your blood feel like ice water. But I had to act like I was fine. I leaned toward the girl and lowered my voice. "So, the thing is..."
Minutes later, I walked back into the hallway, the quiet of the library replaced by the echoing footsteps of students heading to their lockers. I didn't get far before a shadow blocked my path.
The guy from the library was standing there, his fit frame and thick arms making the hallway feel narrow. He looked even more intimidating up close.
"Were you hitting on her?" he demanded, his voice low and threatening.
"No," I said, keeping my face flat and hiding the tremor in my hands.
"So you're her friend?"
"She's not my friend."
"Then why the hell did you approach her?"
I took a breath, playing my final card. "Are you perhaps her boyfriend?"
The question caught him off guard. His tough-guy mask cracked, replaced by a deep, flustered red. "No, I'm not," he muttered, looking away. "Not yet."
"So you like her?"
"U-uhh... well..."
Bingo. My face grew serious, and I stepped closer, "I need to talk to you about something important."
°°°
The afternoon sun felt cold as we stepped out of the classroom. Jake and Daniel urged me to stay out of the situation, but the exit was already blocked. Clint was waiting for us, flanked by ten of his guys. With the three of us, we were thirteen—a small army.
In the hallway, I saw the student from earlier being dragged away by Simon's pack. Jake lunged forward to help, but Clint's hand was a vice on his shoulder.
"Not yet," Clint muttered. "Wait for the signal."
We reached the school gate, where a man in a plain jacket stood waiting. He flashed a badge—a police officer. Relief washed over Jake and Daniel.
"Uncle, we're prepared," Clint said. "These are the witnesses."
The officer looked at us with a practiced, reassuring nod. "Don't worry. I have your back. Just keep your phones out and record everything. We need the evidence to end this."
"You want us to just stand there while they beat him?" Jake hissed, his pride stinging.
Daniel silenced him. "This might be the only way. But why us, Clint? You have ten guys. Why do you need us?"
"I told you," Clint replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "They messed with my guy. I'm getting back at him my way."
°°°
We followed the trail secretly, led by the officer. Clint's group split off to "avoid attention," leaving the three of us alone with the police officer. We wound through the city until we reached a secluded alleyway dominated by a rusted, skeletal warehouse.
There, in the center of the gloom, sat Simon.
He was perched on a chair like a king on a throne. Around him stood twenty of his subordinates, armed with bats and metal pipes. Four students were already on the ground, bloodied and broken. The boy from the hallway was shoved to the front of the line. Without a word, one of Simon's cronies swung a bat.
Crack. The boy collapsed into the dirt.
Daniel's hands shook so violently he nearly dropped his phone, the entire brutal scene captured on his camera. Jake, who had been full of fire minutes ago, was paralyzed. This wasn't a school fight. This was a massacre.
Then, a low laugh echoed from the shadows behind us.
Clint emerged, but he wasn't alone. He was dragging the girl from the library forcibly. My heart stopped. I looked at Simon's subordinates—they weren't angry at Clint. They were smiling at him. They had been on the same side all along.
The police officer stepped forward, but he didn't draw a weapon. He tucked his badge away and let out a manic, jagged laugh.
"We brought them, Simon," the officer said, his voice dripping with greed. "Make sure the payment hits the account later. And give my regards to your father."
Simon stood up from his makeshift throne, his movements slow and agonizingly calm. He didn't even look at the boys on the ground; his eyes were fixed on us.
"Take that girl to me," he commanded.
The girl from the library let out a sharp, jagged gasp. She didn't move toward him; she tried to shrink back into the shadows of the rusted crates, her eyes darting toward the exit we had just come through.
"You better behave," Clint snarled, his voice no longer husky and protective, but sharp and manic. He stepped toward her, his fingers digging into her shoulder. "Unless you want us to make a mess of your grandma's food stall. You know how easily things catch fire in that part of town, don't you?"
The girl froze. The "twitching" I had seen in the library wasn't just nerves—it was the weight of her entire world being held hostage.
Simon didn't say a word. He didn't have to. He just gave a small, almost imperceptible gesture with his hand.
A heavy piece of construction wood swung through the air, catching Jake squarely in the side of the head with a sickening, hollow thud. I held my breath, expecting him to drop.
Jake staggered, his knees buckling for a split second as the world tilted. He swayed, a look of pure nausea washing over his face as his eyes struggled to focus.
Then, a single, thick trail of crimson began to drip from his hairline, tracing a path down his cheek.
He didn't collapse. Not yet.
"You... freaking..." Jake growled, the words slurring through the shock.
With a roar of pure, adrenaline-fueled rage, he launched himself forward. He threw a heavy, desperate punch that caught the guy who hit him right in the jaw, sending him reeling.
Jake didn't stop—he jumped into the circle, swinging wildly, managing to crack the ribs of another subordinate who tried to close in. For three seconds, he wasn't a student; he was a cornered animal.
But there were too many of them.
As Jake turned to face a third attacker, another heavy smash—this one from a metal pipe—landed squarely across his shoulders.
The momentum he had been running on vanished. His eyes went glassy, the fight finally extinguished by the weight of the blow. This time, there was no staggering. He collapsed forward, hitting the concrete with a heavy, final thud.