The next morning, Ezra felt every eye on him.
Maybe it was paranoia, maybe not—but he couldn't shake the thought that the photo had already spread. Every laugh in the hallway felt sharper, every whisper louder.
Noah walked close, shoulders squared, jaw tight. He wasn't saying anything, but his silence was a shield, and Ezra clung to it.
When they reached their classroom, Adrian was already inside, calmly arranging his books. Lucien leaned back in his chair with his usual smirk, but there was a fire burning beneath his eyes.
"Nothing yet," Adrian said quietly, reading Ezra's face like a book.
"Yet," Lucien muttered. "Keyword."
Ezra sank into his seat, his hands clammy. The note from yesterday, the threat—it all replayed in his head. Do my assignments. Or else.
Noah finally broke the silence. "We can't wait for him to make the first move. If he thinks we're scared, he'll push harder."
Lucien grinned, sharp and dangerous. "Finally, something I agree with. Let me handle him."
Ezra's heart lurched. "No! If you start a fight, it'll only make things worse—"
Adrian's calm voice cut in. "Lucien, we don't need violence. And Ezra's right. A single punch will only give him more leverage."
Lucien groaned, throwing his head back. "So what, we just sit here? Wait for him to pull the trigger?"
"No," Noah said firmly. His gaze locked on Ezra, steady and unshaken. "We control the story before he can."
Ezra's breath caught. "You mean… tell people ourselves?"
Adrian's eyes softened, though his tone was steady. "Sometimes, the only way to kill a secret is to shine light on it."
Ezra's chest squeezed. The thought of everyone knowing—his family, the teachers, the students who lived for gossip—it terrified him more than the photo itself.
But when he looked at Noah, Adrian, and even Lucien, who looked ready to burn the whole school down for him, Ezra realized something.
He wasn't standing alone anymore.
Maybe… maybe that changed everything.