PRIYA
Priya loved paperwork the way other people loved knives.
Not because it was clean.
Because it was permanent.
You couldn't argue with a timestamp.
You couldn't flirt your way out of a log.
You couldn't smile and say integrity and make the ink disappear.
Nora's voice—flat as paper—still hung in the hallway.
"Let's make a file."
Priya felt her own pulse steady.
Good.
Finally.
Something that could hold.
Cal had walked away like a virus that thought it was a person, leaving his little countdown behind.
Two hours.
Seven o'clock.
Post time.
A deadline designed to make them beg.
Priya turned toward Maren's office door and knocked once, hard enough to be heard, not hard enough to be called emotional.
Maren opened it almost immediately.
She looked like she'd been waiting.
Suit. Ponytail. No visible curiosity, only the kind of professional attention that meant she'd already decided this wasn't gossip.
Her gaze swept them in one pass.
Nora: controlled, too controlled, eyes like glass.
Ethan: calm, but with a sharpness underneath, like someone holding back a storm.
Marcus: loud in his posture, trying to turn panic into humor and failing.
Daniel: pale, sweating, a walking confession waiting to happen.
Priya lifted her chin.
"Maren," she said. "We need a file. Now."
Maren's expression didn't change.
"Come in," she said.
The office was small and aggressively normal.
Two chairs for visitors.
A desk with a neat stack of forms.
A printer that looked like it had never known joy.
This was the kind of room where problems became case numbers.
Priya loved it.
Maren shut the door.
The click sounded like protection.
Cal couldn't click his way into this.
Not without consequences.
Maren sat, opened her notebook, and looked at Nora.
"Start," Maren said.
Nora didn't sit.
She stood with her bag strap wrapped around her hand, training log visible on top like a flag.
Her voice came out even.
"Someone is extorting me," Nora said.
Maren's pen moved.
Scratch.
"Name," Maren said.
Nora's jaw tightened.
Priya cut in before Nora could bleed.
"We don't have a legal name," Priya said. "We have an alias: Cal. Hoodie. Undergrad. Approached Ethan in the student center with a coffee sleeve. Then followed us into Whitmore Hall. Threatened to leak private writing and scholarship-impacting materials."
Maren's pen paused once.
Then continued.
"Time and place of first contact," Maren said.
Ethan spoke.
His voice was calm, measured, like he was giving deposition, not telling a story.
"Yesterday. Student center. Coffee line," Ethan said. "He said Professor Aldridge wanted him to check in. He gave me a sleeve with a message written inside."
Maren looked up.
"A physical object," she said.
Ethan nodded.
"Yes," he said.
Maren's pen moved faster.
"Where is it," she asked.
Ethan's gaze flicked to Nora.
Nora didn't react.
Threads.
No patterns.
Ethan answered.
"Safe," he said.
Maren's eyes narrowed.
"That's not an answer," she said.
Priya leaned forward.
"It's an answer that protects chain of custody," Priya said. "We will produce it when you tell us the correct procedure so it doesn't 'disappear.'"
Maren held Priya's gaze for a beat.
Then she nodded once.
"Fine," she said. "Continue."
Nora's throat moved.
Maren's attention shifted to her.
"What's the extortion," Maren asked.
Nora's voice stayed flat.
"He has screenshots of private notes," Nora said. "And a photograph of my lock screen. With my thumb in frame. Time-stamped a minute before he sent it."
Maren's pen stopped.
That was the first real reaction Priya had seen from her.
Maren looked up.
"With your thumb," she repeated.
Nora nodded.
"Yes," she said. "Proximity. Physical. Not a hack I can prove."
Maren's gaze sharpened.
"Who had access to your phone," she asked.
Nora's mouth tightened.
"Anyone," Nora said. "Crowds. Hallways. Coffee line. It takes a second."
Maren wrote.
Then she asked the question Priya had been waiting for.
"The deadline," Maren said. "When did he threaten to post."
Priya answered.
"Seven," she said. "Two hours from now. He said if we make this official, he posts sooner."
Maren's pen scratched a hard line.
She looked at Ethan.
"Did he threaten you," Maren asked.
Ethan's jaw tightened.
"He threatened Nora through me," Ethan said. "He said she was getting sloppy. That she looked like she had help. He used our phrases."
Maren's eyes narrowed.
"Your phrases," she repeated.
Priya's voice went sharp.
"Language contamination," Priya said. "He repeated 'watching your exits.' That phrase originated between us. It's now being used by the runner as intimidation."
Maren wrote.
Then she looked at Daniel, finally.
Daniel flinched like he'd been called to the front of class.
"Your role," Maren said.
Daniel swallowed.
His voice cracked.
"He contacted me too," Daniel whispered. "He offered me drafts. He asked for her phone password. I didn't give it. I swear."
Priya watched Maren's face.
Maren didn't smile.
Didn't soften.
She just wrote.
Then she asked, calm and lethal:
"Do you have the messages."
Daniel blinked.
"Yes," he whispered.
Maren held out her hand.
"Show me," she said.
Daniel fumbled his phone out like it was hot.
Priya's stomach tightened.
Phones were a trap.
But they needed the trap documented.
Daniel leaned in, screen angled so Maren could see.
Maren didn't touch the phone.
Smart.
Witness.
She read.
Her pen moved.
Then she said, quietly, "This is criminal."
Nora's shoulders loosened by a fraction.
Not relief.
Not safety.
Just… a door opening a crack.
Priya felt it too.
Maren looked up.
"I'm going to do three things," she said.
Priya leaned forward.
"Yes," she said.
Maren held up one finger.
"First: I'm filing an immediate incident report with campus security," she said. "Not to punish you. To create a record."
Priya nodded.
Record.
Ink.
Maren held up a second finger.
"Second: I'm notifying the scholarship office that an extortion attempt is underway targeting a finalist," she said. "This protects you if content is leaked."
Nora's jaw tightened.
Scholarship office.
Nora hated being a file.
But a file could be a shield.
Maren held up a third finger.
"Third," she said, "I am instructing you not to go to any meeting with this person."
Marcus exhaled, relieved.
"Thank you," he muttered.
Maren's gaze cut to him.
"That includes midnight in a basement," she added.
Priya's mouth tightened.
"We weren't going," she said.
Maren looked at her.
"You're lying," Maren said, calm.
Priya stared back.
Then she smiled.
Sharp.
"Okay," Priya said. "We were considering going. Not alone. As bait."
Maren's expression didn't change.
"Do not," she said.
Priya felt heat rise.
Maren continued, voice still even.
"You want to catch him," Maren said. "I understand. But you are students, not law enforcement. If you go and something happens, this becomes a tragedy instead of a case."
Nora finally spoke.
Her voice was flat, but the words carried weight.
"He will post," Nora said.
Maren nodded once.
"Then we prepare," she said.
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
"How," he asked.
Maren's pen tapped the notebook once.
"We control narrative," Maren said.
Priya's stomach tightened.
Maren continued.
"We will draft a statement," she said. "Boring. Administrative. With just enough detail to preempt the leak without feeding it."
Nora's mouth tightened.
"A statement," Nora repeated.
Maren nodded.
"Yes," she said. "Something like: 'Private materials were accessed without consent. Authorities have been notified. Do not circulate.'"
Priya almost laughed.
Not humor.
Respect.
Maren was ruthless.
Boring.
Effective.
Ethan spoke, low.
"And Aldridge," he said.
Maren's eyes flicked.
"A separate file," Maren said. "Different case."
Priya's smile sharpened.
"Good," she said.
Maren looked at Nora.
"Do you have any reason to believe Professor Aldridge is involved," she asked.
Nora's pulse thudded once.
Out loud.
Always.
Nora kept her voice level.
"He benefits," Nora said. "He wants confession. He wants integrity theater."
Maren wrote it.
Then she said, "Benefit isn't proof."
Nora nodded.
"I know," she said.
Priya watched Ethan.
Ethan's jaw was tight, but he didn't speak.
Good.
No extra threads.
Maren closed her notebook with a soft finality.
"Now," she said, "I need one more thing."
Priya leaned forward.
"What," she asked.
Maren's gaze went to Nora's bag.
"The content," Maren said. "The private writing he's threatening to leak. I need to understand the nature of the harm so we can preempt correctly."
Nora's stomach tightened.
Her pages.
Her throat.
Out loud.
Nora didn't touch the bag.
She didn't pull anything out.
She kept her voice flat.
"It's personal writing," Nora said. "Private. Not a submission. Not evidence of misconduct."
Maren nodded.
"Understood," she said.
Then she added, softer, "Is it something that could be misconstrued as academic dishonesty."
Nora's jaw clenched.
Ethan spoke before Nora could answer.
His voice was calm.
"No," he said. "It could be used to embarrass her. To isolate her. To pressure her into silence."
Maren wrote.
Then she said, "Good."
Priya's eyes narrowed.
"Good?" she repeated.
Maren looked up.
"Good because it means we can frame this cleanly," she said. "Extortion. Privacy violation. Harassment. Not academic misconduct."
Nora's shoulders loosened a fraction.
A crack of air.
Maren stood.
"I'm calling campus security now," she said. "And I'm emailing the scholarship office while you sit here. Do not leave."
Marcus raised a hand like he was in kindergarten.
"Are we allowed to breathe," he asked.
Maren looked at him.
"Yes," she said.
Marcus nodded solemnly.
"Great," he whispered. "I will breathe quietly."
Maren stepped out.
The office door clicked shut again.
Silence fell.
Not the silence Aldridge used.
Not the silence Cal used.
A new kind.
Waiting-room silence.
Nora stood by the wall, eyes fixed on nothing.
Daniel sat with his knees bouncing.
Marcus tried not to talk and failed anyway, whispering, "This is insane," like a prayer.
Priya leaned closer to Ethan.
Low.
Private.
"You saw his face," Priya murmured. "He's enjoying this."
Ethan's voice was flat.
"He thinks he's untouchable," Ethan said.
Priya's eyes flicked to Nora.
"And she's not," Priya said.
Ethan looked at Nora for a beat.
Then back to Priya.
"She's going to be," he said.
Priya's mouth tightened.
"Say that again," she whispered.
Ethan didn't.
Threads.
No patterns.
Nora's phone buzzed.
Once.
Nora didn't move.
Priya did.
She glanced at the lock screen from where she stood.
Her face changed.
Nora noticed, even without turning.
"What," Nora asked.
Priya swallowed.
"It's him," she said.
Nora didn't reach for the phone.
Ethan did, not touching, only reading from the angle.
One line.
YOU MADE IT OFFICIAL. I'LL MAKE IT PUBLIC.
And then—another buzz.
A second message.
A screenshot preview.
Not opened.
Just enough.
A Slack channel header.
Writing Club.
A draft post.
Scheduled.
Set to publish at 7:00 PM.
Priya's breath caught.
"Oh my God," she whispered.
Nora's pulse slowed again.
Choice.
"What title," Nora asked.
Priya swallowed.
She read the header.
"'FINALIST LEAKS: READ BEFORE IT'S DELETED,'" Priya said.
Marcus made a strangled sound.
Daniel's face went paper white.
Ethan's voice stayed calm.
"We can beat it," he said.
Priya stared at him.
"How," she whispered.
Ethan looked at Nora.
Not asking permission with his eyes.
Asking if she could handle the next move.
Nora's voice was flat.
"We post first," she said.
Priya's smile sharpened.
"Yes," she whispered.
Nora opened her bag.
Not shaking.
Not rushing.
She pulled out her notebook.
Training log on top.
Boring.
Clean.
And she flipped to a blank page.
She wrote one line.
Big letters.
Simple.
INCIDENT STATEMENT — DRAFT 1
Marcus stared.
"You're writing the statement," he whispered.
Nora didn't look up.
"Yes," she said.
Daniel's voice shook.
"But if he posts—"
Nora cut him off.
"He will," she said. "So we decide what the campus reads first."
Ethan leaned closer.
His voice was low.
"What do you want it to do," he asked.
Nora's pen hovered.
Her mouth tightened.
"I want it to be boring," she said. "So everyone believes it."
Priya nodded.
"And sharp," Priya added. "So he bleeds."
Nora wrote.
One sentence.
Then another.
Short.
Clinical.
No emotion.
No confession.
No gift.
And as her pen moved, her phone buzzed again.
A new message.
Three words.
CHECK YOUR SLACK.
Nora didn't stop writing.
Boring.
Clean.
But Priya checked.
And the sound she made was not a laugh.
Not a sob.
It was the noise someone made when they realized the room they were in had a second door.
"They tagged you," Priya whispered.
Nora's pen didn't lift.
"Who," Nora asked.
Priya swallowed.
She looked at Ethan.
Then at Nora.
Then she said, very quietly:
"He tagged Aldridge."