The energy backstage was quick, but it wasn't the fun kind. It was the kind of high tension energy that makes the hair on your arms stand up. Ten mirrors were lined with glowing golden bulbs, reflecting a blur of stylists, makeup brushes, and the constant, fine mist of hairspray hanging in the air.Usually, the models would be focused on their own reflections, but tonight, every single eye in the room was tracking two people: Freya and Thaila.The rumors had already beaten them to the dressing room. Everyone knew they’d just crawled out of a wrecked SUV, and the fact that they weren't in a hospital bed— but were instead standing here, ready to compete— was messing with people's heads.“Are they actually insane?” one girl whispered, barely moving her lips as a stylist applied her lashes. “They almost died an hour ago and they’re still worried about a modeling contract?”Across the room, Freya sat perfectly still while a stylist fussed over the hem of her gown. Her hands had been shaki

The silence in the hall had a physical weight to it. It wasn't that jittery, nervous energy from before, it was the heavy, decisive quiet that comes right before a life changing sentence is handed down.The MC cleared his throat, a small movement that seemed loud in the stillness, and stepped away from the center of the runway. His polished shoes made a rhythmic click click click against the floor as he approached the judges' table. Every head in the building followed him like a pendulum.The five judges sat perfectly upright. The silver haired executive at the center didn't say a word, he just slid a slim black folder across the glass. Another judge placed her hand on top of it for a split second— a final, silent confirmation— before the MC accepted the file with both hands.The rustle of the paper as he opened it sounded like a landslide in the vacuum of the room. He scanned the page, his eyebrows twitching upward just a fraction of an inch, before he snapped the folder shut and t

The grand hall was dimming now, the bright stage lights were replaced by the functional hum of work lights as staff began dismantling the equipment. Small clusters of students still lingered in the venue, their voices low as they discussed and replayed the night’s drama.Freya let out a long, shaky exhale, the kind that comes when your body finally realizes the crisis is over. “I’m beyond exhausted,” she said, a tired laugh catching in her throat. “Can we just go?”Marcus looked at her for a heartbeat. The adrenaline that had been keeping her upright was clearly fading, leaving behind a fragile sort of weariness.“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”As they walked toward the exit, Emmanuel couldn't stop glancing back at the parking lot. “I’m still not over that convoy,” he muttered, shaking his head. “All white. Even the hypercars. I mean, who actually does that? It’s a complete flex.”Victoria rolled her eyes, though she was smiling. “Focus, Emmanuel. Freya literally just won

Victoria didn’t take her eyes off the rearview mirror for a second. "They’re still there," she said, her voice dropping into that flat, quiet tone people use when they’re trying not to freak out.Freya twisted around in her seat again, squinting through the glass. The headlights were constant— not flashing, not swerving, just hovering there like a ghost."How long has it actually been?" Freya asked, her heart starting to beat nervously against her ribs."Since we pulled out of the event," Victoria replied.The city was thinning out as they hit the outskirts. Emmanuel’s car was long gone, and the traffic was dying down until it was just the two of them and that silent set of lights.Freya’s mind started cycling through every bad scenario she’d ever seen in a movie. "Should we call Jack? Maybe he can do something."Victoria nodded. "Yes. Do it now."Freya grabbed her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. Then she froze. "I don’t have his number."Victoria glanced at her, eyes wide.

Jack’s voice came through Marcus’s phone sounding calm like a soldier reporting to a general.“The girls are home and they’re safe, but it got pretty bad for a minute. Two black Escalades tried to run them off the highway.”Marcus leaned back in his chair, the dim street lights shining on his face. He didn't look panicked, he just looked like he was processing the news. “Which Escalades, Jack? Do we know who for sure?”“Same ones from the kidnapping of Freya,” Jack said. You could hear him tapping away at a keyboard on his end. “It’s definitely Baron’s crew. They’re working with the Black Doves on this one.”Marcus let out a slow breath and watched the night scenery go by. “The Black Doves,” he muttered. Then his voice got a lot sharper. “Do we know where they’re hiding yet?”“I’ve already got teams out looking for their spot. I’ll send you the location as soon as I have it.”Marcus sat there for a second, his fingers tapping on the arm rest. “What about Jason? Has he shown up at the