The crowd's roar echoed in her ears as Amara stepped away from the circle, her pulse still racing, her fists trembling—not from fear, but from adrenaline. Her knuckles ached, her breath was short, but her eyes… they burned.
She had faced them.
And she didn't just survive.
She shook the ground they walked on.
Delilah watched from the shadows, her arms crossed, hiding the sting of defeat behind a cold smile. "Interesting," she whispered to herself. "She's not just pretty—she's dangerous."
Vanessa was already limping off, her pride more bruised than her cheek.
But it wasn't over.
Not yet.
Not even close.
Amara didn't see Kai following behind her as she made her way toward the back gate of the school. The sky rumbled, distant thunder murmuring like a warning.
The storm was only beginning.
"Wait," Kai said, finally catching up.
She turned slowly, the flicker of courtyard lights casting golden edges on her curls. "What now?"
"You were incredible," he said.
She blinked. "Is that a compliment from the 'Golden Prince' of this school?"
He smirked. "Don't get used to it."
She was about to reply when a phone buzzed.
Her phone.
Another anonymous message lit up the screen:
"They watched you tonight. Not all applause is admiration. Some clap so they know when to strike."
Her hands turned cold.
Kai stepped closer. "Is something wrong?"
But Amara didn't answer.
Because across the street…
Under a flickering streetlamp…
A black car sat idle.
Windows tinted.
Engine humming.
Watching.
Waiting.
Amara was being hunted.
By who?
And why?
A secret whispered at the edge of her memory threatened to rise—but the moment was shattered when a sudden boom of thunder cracked the sky, and the first drops of rain fell like glass.
She took a step back and whispered under her breath,
"Let the games begin."
Kai's brows furrowed as Amara stared blankly at the car across the street, unmoving like a shadow breathing in the dark. The rain poured harder, soaking her clothes, but she didn't flinch.
"Amara," he said again, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "What is it?"
She swallowed hard. Her voice was barely a whisper. "They found me."
"What?"
But before he could question her further, the car's headlights blinked once—like a warning.
Then it disappeared into the night.
No screech.
No sound.
Just… gone.
Kai turned sharply. "Who was that? Do you know them?"
Amara looked at him, her eyes colder than they had ever been. "Not exactly… but they know me."
Something in her tone made even Kai—prince of the school, unshaken by anything—take a step back.
She wasn't just the new girl.
She was a marked girl.
And this school wasn't ready for what was coming.
Suddenly, a memory surged like lightning through her mind—a man in a white suit, whispering in her ear.
> "You are not safe. They'll come for you once you shine."
And tonight… she shined.
Too brightly.
The rain washed down her face, but it couldn't erase the fear building behind her calm.
Kai finally spoke again, his voice low. "If something's going on… I need to know."
"You already do," she said, stepping away into the shadows. "You just don't understand it yet."
Then she disappeared, swallowed by the night—leaving Kai speechless.
Somewhere on the rooftop, a phone camera zoomed in.
Click.
Click.
Two photos were taken.
And sent.
To a number labeled only: "Chairman."
"Target has activated. Operation Scarlet Bloom has begun."
The message reached the Chairman at exactly 11:11 PM.
He stared at the photo of Amara—soaked in the rain, defiant eyes staring into the darkness—as if she knew she was being watched.
"She's waking up," he whispered.
Behind him, a tall figure stepped from the shadows. "Should we begin Phase Two?"
The Chairman lit a cigar, eyes gleaming behind his silver-framed glasses. "Let her think she's free. The truth will crush her better than chains ever could."
Back at school, Amara stood before her dorm mirror, fingers trembling as she wiped a smear of blood from her lip—the remnants of her fight, her stand.
She didn't know the name Scarlet Bloom.
She didn't know the Chairman.
But they knew everything about her.
And when she opened her locker the next morning…
A single red rose fell to the floor.
No note.
No name.
Just a black ribbon tied around the stem—and the scent of danger.
Her heartbeat stopped.
Kai saw it.
Leo saw it.
Even Delilah, smug from the sidelines, felt a strange chill crawl up her spine.
Something was coming.
And Amara?
She was the spark.
She picked up the rose slowly, raised her head—and smiled.
A wicked, knowing smile.
"So it begins…"
The rose in Amara's hand suddenly felt heavier than any book she'd carried.
The black ribbon was tied in an elegant knot… but something sharp pricked her palm.
She turned the flower around—
There it was.
A silver pin. Hidden. Stuck into the stem.
Not just a message…
A warning.
Carved into the side of the pin in razor-thin letters were four chilling words:
"YOU CAN'T HIDE FOREVER."
Amara's breath caught in her throat.
Her fingers clenched.
Someone knew.
Not just her name.
Not just her past.
They knew who she really was.
And they were getting closer.
The morning hallway around her faded into silence, like the world paused just for this moment. Kai stepped forward, noticing the tension in her shoulders. "What's wrong?"
Amara tucked the pin quickly into her blazer pocket and gave him a dazzling smile, one that didn't reach her eyes.
"Nothing," she whispered.
"Nothing at all."
But she lied.
Because everything had changed.
Far away, inside a hidden surveillance room, a woman in a dark red coat stared at the screen. Amara's photo flashed beside a list of names.
"Target: Amara Clark. Alias: Mira Black. Status: Active."
The woman smirked.
"Let the masquerade begin."
The rose wasn't just a warning.
It was a declaration of war.
Amara stood still, heart thundering as the hallway moved around her in slow motion. Students passed by—laughing, talking, unaware that something unseen had slithered into her world and was now watching her every move.
Leo approached slowly, his gaze narrowing on the flower in her hand. "That's not just any rose," he said darkly.
She raised a brow, hiding the tremor in her fingers. "And what do you think it is?"
"A signature," he murmured, his voice low. "Someone's marking you."
Amara's smile was razor-sharp. "Then let them watch. Let them know I'm not afraid."
But as she turned to leave, Leo stopped her.
"You should be."
Amara froze.
She looked back, and for a second—just a second—his mask cracked. There was fear in his eyes. Fear for her.
That night, she placed the rose in a glass jar and hid the silver pin under her pillow. She lay in bed with eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling as the clock ticked louder than thunder.
Tick… tick… tick…
Until suddenly, her dorm light flickered.
Then went out.
Darkness.
Silence.
And then—
A whisper.
Right behind her ear.
"You should've stayed hidden, Amara…"
She spun around.
No one.
But on her desk—
The glass jar had shattered.
And the rose?
Burned black.
The room smelled of burning roses.
Amara's breath came in shaky bursts as she stared at the blackened petals now scattered across her desk like ashes from a dream set ablaze.
She hadn't imagined it.
The lights. The whisper. The broken glass.
Something—someone—had been in her room.
And they wanted her to know it.
She reached for the pin beneath her pillow, but it was no longer there.
Gone.
No window opened. No door creaked. But the threat had moved—it was closer now.
A knock shattered the silence.
Three slow, deliberate knocks.
Not from the hallway.
From inside the wardrobe.
Amara's hand shook as she approached. Each step echoed like thunder in her ears. She gripped the handle and—
BANG!
The door swung open on its own. Empty.
No one.
Just a tiny black envelope on the floor.
She picked it up with trembling fingers.
Inside, written in red ink:
"There's more to your past than you remember… Mira wasn't your first lie."
And underneath…
A photo.
Of her as a baby.
Being held by a man she didn't recognize.
The back of the photo read:
"You were never meant to be just ordinary."
Her vision blurred. Her pulse raged. The walls closed in—but her soul refused to shrink.
She wasn't running anymore.
She'd face whatever this was.
She'd fight.
She'd burn the lies before they burned her.
But just as she gripped the photo tighter, her phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown Number: "If you tell anyone… Leo dies first."