The school library was nearly empty when Ezra stepped inside. Winter had settled in early this year—frost lacing the windows, silence thick like velvet between the rows of old books.
Kai was already there.
He sat in the farthest corner at a secluded table, three folders open in front of him, earphones tucked in but not playing anything. His foot tapped in rhythm—impatience or adrenaline, Ezra couldn't tell.
"You're early," Ezra said, slipping into the seat opposite.
"I couldn't sleep."
Ezra dropped a file onto the table—one with student schedules, janitor shifts, and digital access logs. "Neither could I. Found out someone requested greenhouse access using a guest profile. No name attached. But the access was granted by Admin."
Kai leaned forward, brow furrowed. "You think it's someone on the staff?"
"No." Ezra opened his laptop, screen dimmed to reduce visibility. "I think it's a student who's smart enough to exploit a loophole. And I think they want us to fight each other while they hide in the smoke."
Kai watched him for a long beat. Then: "Do you trust me yet?"
Ezra didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he murmured, "Rule one. Trust is a lie."
Kai's jaw twitched. "That sounds like something you were taught."
"That sounds like something I survived."
Their eyes locked.
Something unspoken swelled in the space between them—too sharp to be soft, too close to be safe.
Then Ezra blinked and returned to the files.
"Lena Cross," he said.
Kai raised an eyebrow. "The psychology prodigy?"
"She's obsessed with behavioral patterns and power dynamics. I caught her watching us. Taking notes."
Kai exhaled. "We talking creepy stalker or calculating manipulator?"
"Both."
Ezra leaned in, voice quieter. "I think she's studying us."
Elsewhere, Lena Cross opened her locker and found something unexpected inside:
A dare card.
Blood red. Blank back. No name.
Just a typed line:
"Dare: Confess your worst thought about Ezra Moreau."
Lena stared at it for a long time, lips slowly curling into a smile.
"Finally," she whispered. "Someone dares to play."
Back in the library, Kai tapped one folder open.
"Here's what I found. Greenhouse access logs. Night of the photo? Four other ID tags used on that door between 10 p.m. and midnight. Three were janitorial staff. One was a fake ID—copied from someone on the volleyball team."
Ezra flipped through the timestamps. "Cameras?"
"Looped."
Ezra exhaled. "So we're dealing with someone who knows how to scrub data, access admin systems, and frame people with precision."
"Sound like anyone you know?"
Ezra tilted his head. "You mean someone like me?"
Kai gave him a look. "I wasn't going to say it."
"But you were thinking it."
Kai smiled faintly. "That's the thing with you, Ezra. You're too smart for your own good. It's sexy and terrifying."
Ezra paused. "You think I'm sexy?"
"I know you're sexy."
Ezra stared at him, lips parted, eyes unreadable.
Then he laughed once, soft and bitter. "Too bad this isn't a love story."
Kai leaned closer, tone dropping.
"Maybe it could be."
Ezra looked up slowly, like he was seeing Kai for the first time—beneath the armor, beyond the dare.
But before he could answer, his phone buzzed.
A new message.
UNKNOWN SENDER
📎 [Attachment: Video File]
"Let's raise the stakes. Here's your next move."
Ezra opened the file.
The footage was low-res, but unmistakable: Dominic. Standing by Ezra's locker. Slipping something inside.
A folded paper. The envelope from before.
Kai's face hardened. "So it was Dominic."
Ezra didn't speak. He just stood, slowly, eyes flickering with something dark.
"No," he said quietly. "That's what they want us to think."
Dominic was in the courtyard when they found him.
He saw them coming and stood up, hands raised. "Whatever you think, I didn't—"
"Save it," Ezra cut in. "We got the video."
Dominic's jaw clenched. "Video?"
Kai pulled out his phone and played the clip.
Dominic watched, stunned. "That's not— That's not me. That's someone else."
"Don't insult my intelligence," Ezra said coldly. "At least lie with style."
But Dominic didn't back down. "I swear, Ezra. I didn't do this."
His voice cracked. "I wouldn't hurt you."
For a moment, just a moment, Ezra hesitated.
Then Kai asked quietly, "Do you believe him?"
Ezra didn't know. That scared him more than anything.
Later that night, Ezra sat by his window, a cold cup of tea untouched beside him.
His mind replayed every interaction with Dominic, every small moment, every word said or unsaid. His world had been a battlefield for years—trust, the rarest casualty.
And now, he was starting to wonder if he was being played from all sides.
Behind him, his phone buzzed again.
Another message.
UNKNOWN SENDER
"You broke Rule One. You trusted someone. Now, someone else will pay."
Attached: a new photo.
Lena, in the chemistry lab. Unconscious. A blood-red dare card taped to her chest.
Ezra's fingers went cold.
He picked up the phone and called Kai. Voice calm, deadly.
"They've made it personal."