2025-10-02 15:30:41
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14. A knight in dark armor
He trailed her through the dusky streets after school, blending into shadows like they were part of him. Lilith walked with casual ease, humming faintly to herself, no fear in her stride.Adam expected her to lead him somewhere sinister—an abandoned church, a graveyard, a nest of secrets.Instead, she turned down a modest street, stopping at a pale-blue house with peeling paint. The window glowed warm, golden. Inside, Adam saw her tie on an apron, laugh as she brushed flour across her cheek, and help an older man knead dough in a small bakery.Her laughter was light. Human.Adam clenched his jaw, unsettled. This was too normal. A hunter didn’t knead bread with her father.It’s a mask, Malick spat. Poison dressed as sweetness. Don’t be fooled.But Adam couldn’t look away. The light spilling out of the bakery window felt foreign, almost invasive. Normalcy was alien to him now, and the image of Lilith, radiant in that life, only deepened the riddle.Could she really be responsible for th
13. Blood in the halls
The hallways felt different now. Fear had seeped into the cracks of Westfield High like mold—whispered rumors, darting glances, laughter that died too quickly.Two bullies in the locker row ahead snickered nervously about Marcus and Ethan.“First Simon, now Marcus? Both messed up bad.”“Yeah, it’s like someone’s hunting us.”“Shut up,” one hissed, his voice trembling. “Don’t say that out loud.”Adam slipped past them with a thin smile. Good. Let them squirm.But his satisfaction burned away when he caught sight of Lilith at the far end of the hall. She leaned against the wall as though she’d been waiting just for him.Their eyes locked. Hers glittered with a secret he desperately wanted—and feared—to know.Adam stalked toward her, his footsteps sharp. “You,” he hissed. “Talk.”Lilith tilted her head, unbothered by his tone. “Talk about what?”“Don’t play games with me. Marcus. Simon. Both taken down exactly the way I planned. That’s not coincidence.”Her lips curved into a slow, infur
12. The copycat
Marcus looked pathetic.The boy who had once strutted through school like a pit bull at Sanchez’s heel now lay in a hospital bed, his arms suspended in plaster casts. His jaw was swollen, his face battered, but what unnerved Adam most was the way Marcus stared at the ceiling—broken in more ways than bone.Adam slipped into the room quietly. No one noticed him. Sanchez hadn’t even bothered to show up; he was too busy keeping up appearances, pretending this hadn’t cracked his throne.Adam stood at the foot of the bed. “Who did it?”Marcus’s eyes flickered. For a moment, fear flashed there—real, raw fear. Then he shook his head. “I… I don’t know.”Adam stepped closer. “Marcus. Listen carefully. I planned this.” His voice dropped, low and venomous. “Every detail of what happened to you—it was supposed to come from me. But it didn’t. Someone else beat me to it. Who?”Marcus trembled, his lips pale. “It was dark. Fast. I didn’t… I didn’t see. Just… a shadow.”Adam leaned closer until his
11. A crown in her shadow
Adam had always hated the cafeteria. It was a stage where the same play was performed every day: Sanchez at the center, laughing too loudly, Elena shining at his side, and everyone else orbiting like planets around their sun.Today, Adam wasn’t just watching. Today, he was calculating.Elena. Perfect Elena. Her laugh was sugar and venom, her beauty the proof of Sanchez’s dominance. If Adam could take her away—or better, break her—Sanchez would lose more than his queen. He’d lose his crown.Shatter her, Malick whispered. Seduce her, poison her, humiliate her—she is the key to his ruin.Adam smirked. “One move at a time,” he murmured under his breath.He waited until Elena broke from Sanchez’s table to throw her trash away. Timing was everything.“Hey,” Adam said smoothly, stepping into her path.Her brows knit together. “Oh. You’re—”“Adam,” he finished for her, smiling faintly. “The one everyone talks about lately.”That caught her off guard. She hesitated, then gave a small laugh. “Y
10. Smokes and whispers
By morning, Westfield High was ablaze with rumor.Ethan Calder—loudmouth, joker, keeper of the highlight reel—wasn’t in his usual spot by the cafeteria televisions. Instead, his name passed from mouth to mouth like contraband.“Did you hear?”“Ambulance took him.”“Skull fracture. Concussion. He might not even come back this semester.”Some whispered it was an accident. Others, with wide eyes and lowered voices, insisted someone pushed him.Adam walked the halls in calm silence, slipping between clusters of gossip. Every word fed him. He didn’t need to start the fire; it spread on its own.But Derek knew. Adam saw it in the way Derek avoided his gaze, in the way his bruised face stiffened every time their paths crossed. Derek knew—and he was terrified.Malick’s laughter slithered in Adam’s skull. Perfect. Fear sharpens the air. It is like wine. Drink it, boy.Adam adjusted his backpack and smiled faintly.---In English, the teacher stopped mid-lecture to glance at Adam. “Mr. Lawson,”
9. The second stone 2
Adam moved as if by habit, casual and unhurried. A hand on Ethan’s shoulder, a push that seemed playful. Ethan stumbled into the foot of the spotlight—an old rig hung over the stage, a web of catwalks and cables. The metal groaned when Ethan grabbed it.“Watch it,” Ethan muttered. He laughed it off and shoved Adam away with a staged show of bravado. “You trying to make me viral by accident?”Adam’s face was blank. He stepped back, eyes tracking the rig. He’d watched the maintenance logs before approaching Ethan; he'd seen the hairline stress fractures hidden in the brackets. He knew which bolt was stripped. He’d read the schedules, the times the custodian left the building unlocked. For someone who had always lived inside textbooks and message boards, it had been trivial to learn a dozen harmless facts that together could be lethal.“Dude, we should get this from the catwalk,” Ethan said suddenly, eyes bright with mischief. “You cool climbing? It’ll look sick from above.”Adam nodded.
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