Night fell like a thick, suffocating blanket over Westfield High. The streets were empty, save for the occasional flicker of a streetlamp casting long shadows over cracked sidewalks. Adam Lawson moved silently through the darkness, every sense alert, every nerve humming. The gym incident had changed everything. The mysterious attacks—not by him, not by Malick—had opened a door into a game he wasn’t fully prepared to play.And yet, he would play it.Adam’s eyes narrowed as he considered what had happened. One student dead. Sanchez fled. Another attack in the shadows, precise, surgical, executed with a speed and intelligence he didn’t recognize. Whoever—or whatever—was behind it had learned his methods without ever watching him.Malick’s whisper coiled in his mind, cold and sharp: A rival hunter. Someone testing your skill, your patience. They will not stop until they surpass you—or destroy you.Adam’s jaw tightened. I’ve faced Sanchez. I’ve faced the world’s hate. I’ve faced death. I w

Adam prowled the deserted streets of Westfield, the chill night air clinging to his skin. Rain had slicked the roads into a reflective mirror, each puddle distorting the dim light of streetlamps. He moved like a predator himself, silent, cautious, yet urgent. Every sound—the distant hum of a car, the flutter of leaves, the whisper of wind—was amplified in his mind, each one a potential sign of the hunter he sought.It had been days since the gym incident, days of fruitless waiting and sharp frustration. The mysterious predator had struck again, eliminating another of his intended targets, yet leaving Adam’s carefully orchestrated plans untouched but mirrored. Whoever this was, they weren’t just skilled—they were methodical, relentless, and terrifyingly intelligent.Malick’s presence inside him throbbed, a dark pulse of excitement and impatience. They dare to challenge us. Strike first. Dominate.Adam’s jaw clenched. Not yet. I must understand first. Observe. Predict.And yet, every fi

The next morning, Adam waited outside the school gates, the air crisp with the lingering chill of rain. His eyes tracked Lilith as she emerged from the building, carrying her books casually, unaware of him lingering nearby. Every movement she made was precise, effortless, almost mundane—but to Adam, every ordinary detail felt charged with significance.He had made a decision. To understand the hunter, he needed to follow Lilith closer, observe her routines, perhaps even gain her trust. I know it’s not her… but she’s the key.Malick stirred within him, sharp and impatient. Trust no one! She is prey. She is the path to your dominance!Adam clenched his jaw. Not yet. I need control. Observation. Understanding.---He walked alongside her at a careful distance, adjusting his pace to remain inconspicuous. Lilith seemed entirely at ease, chatting quietly with classmates, smiling politely, helping someone who had dropped their books. Adam’s chest tightened. Her normalcy was almost disarming.

Adam’s footsteps echoed in the nearly empty school hallway, a hollow percussion that matched the rhythm of his thoughts. For weeks now, he had been consumed by Lilith, the mysterious new girl whose presence seemed to attract the unseen hunter’s attacks. He had followed her, observed her, studied her movements with meticulous precision—but tonight, he felt a shift in his attention. Something—or someone—had emerged from the shadows, catching his instincts, twisting his focus.It began during history class, a class Adam had always hated. Mr. Russell, the venomous teacher with a lifelong grudge against anyone who dared exist, had been droning on about some irrelevant historical battle, his voice sharp, cruel, picking at students like a vulture tearing at scraps. Adam’s patience had worn thin years ago; the man’s hatred seemed endless, especially toward anyone who couldn’t defend themselves.And then, Adam had seen him: Kaleb. A quiet, pale, almost invisible boy who sat hunched in the back

The school smelled faintly of stale coffee and damp carpets, a mix that usually went unnoticed by students, but tonight it carried the tension of anxiety and fear. Parents milled around in the gymnasium, their faces tight with worry, voices low but sharp, exchanging fragments of rumors. Whispers of attacks, of threats, of things no one could explain, buzzed like an undercurrent beneath the polite chatter of the parent-teacher conference.Adam lingered in the shadows near the bleachers, his backpack slung casually over one shoulder, eyes scanning the crowd. He didn’t need to be here—none of this concerned him directly—but Malick had made it clear in a low, hissing whisper that tonight, everything was about to change.Change… Adam’s pulse quickened. Malick’s excitement was infectious, a dark heat crawling along his spine. Yes. Fear is power. Panic is weakness. And I… will control both.---Voices rose and fell, tense and clipped, as parents expressed frustration at the school’s inabilit