The school stayed closed for seven long days.
Seven days after the invasion, Draxton High felt like a graveyard.
The circular courtyard was cordoned off, the spot where Alina's body had fallen scrubbed
clean but still stained in everyone's minds.
Whispers drifted across every balcony like smoke — girls huddled in tight clusters, some rocking back and forth in corners, soft moans escaping their lips as they relived the nightmares in daylight.
"I can still feel their eyes on me," one girl whimpered in the hall.
"The way they raped Alina… it was merciless. She screamed until she couldn't anymore."
"They assaulted us… They raped our classmates…"
"They're monsters. Pure monsters."
"They'll burn in hell for this — they have to."
Teachers drifted through the halls like ghosts — faces hollow, eyes glassy, voices reduced to murmurs. No lessons were taught properly. Chalk lay untouched. Blackboards stared back empty, reflecting only the stunned, haunted silence of adults who had failed to protect the children in their care.
Ira walked through the gates like a shadow, eyes down.
She sat in her second-floor class, rigid as a statue — back straight, hands folded in her lap, gaze fixed on the desk.
The room was half-empty; many girls hadn't returned to school, still traumatized by what had happened that day.
Rina slid into the seat beside Ira, eyes soft with concern. "Ira? Hey… are you okay?"
She gently placed a hand on Ira's arm.
"Alina… what happened to her was terrible. She fought back. She was brave. But don't blame yourself for not being able to save her. None of us could have done anything. We were all helpless.
So don't punish yourself like this.
Everything will be alright. Alina's soul will find peace. All we can do now is pray for her. Somehow… things will get better.". "
Ira didn't respond. Her face remained blank, mind a storm of grief and rage.
Later, during break, Zara, Elvina, Celia, Rina, and Viana gathered in a quiet corner of the balcony, voices low and urgent.
Zara whispered, "The Krossvales think they own everything, but there's the Shadow Reckoning. They're the only ones who've hurt them back."
Elvina nodded. "Yeah, they're this hidden network — criminals, gangs, people who've lost everything to Kai. No one knows the supreme leader; it's all secret cells. Branches and sub-branches, like a web. They sabotage shipments, leak intel, kill enforcers quietly. Kai's wiped out hundreds, but they keep coming because no one knows the full structure."
Celia leaned in. "They're cruel too — poison, bombings, torture. But they hate the Krossvales more. There's a are secret places where they recruit — you, and if you're in, you're in deep."
Viana shivered. "It's risky. But if anyone can make them pay… it's them."
Rina sighed. "Still, they're not stronger than Kai. They just bleed him slow."
Ira had been listening silently from the edge. She stepped forward, voice steady but raw.
"What's the Shadow Reckoning?"
The girls turned, surprised.
Rina explained softly: "They're the Krossvales' ultimate enemies — a massive hidden organization of gangs, criminals, and survivors. No central leader you can kill; it's all anonymous branches and sub-branches. They plan secret ops to ruin Kai: steal weapons, expose blackmails, assassinate quietly. Kai's killed countless, but he can't find the core. They're as brutal as him — no mercy — but they strike from shadows."
Ira was startled by their words.
Celia leaned closer, voice hushed. "They don't just wait for people to find them. They recruit from different places — bars, back alleys, even online shadows."
Zara leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a hushed murmur that barely rose above the distant hum of the school below. She glanced around once more, making sure no one was listening.
" I know a place… it's just called **The Rook** — this old four-floor gambling den down in the eastern docks. Nothing fancy. The building's ancient, bricks crumbling, windows boarded up. Inside it stinks — cheap drugs, spilled booze, cigarette smoke, sweat. You walk in and it hits you like a wall. Street gangs play cards on the first floor, drunk loners at the bar, flickering neon signs buzzing overhead. Upstairs, the real games happen — high stakes poker, dice, whatever. But the recruitment? It's quiet. Hidden."
The other girls asked in shock, "How do you know?"
"My cousin went there once," Zara replied. "He was a gambling addict."
Ira's eyes darkened.
Her thoughts spun wildly.
* A way.*
*A real way to make them pay.*
Images flashed through her mind—branches, secrets, recruits.
*I could join.*
*For Alina.*
*For every girl they destroyed.*
Cold fury settled in her chest.
*I'll make them pay. I'll make every one of them die miserable deaths.*
The words echoed again and again in her mind.
*The Rook.*
*A gambling den.*
But outwardly, Ira remained silent.
---
The clock on Ira's desk read 2:47 a.m. The small mustard-yellow house was silent except for the faint hum of the old ceiling fan and the distant bark of a street dog.
Her room was dark save for the cold blue glow of her laptop screen — the only light she allowed herself tonight.
She sat cross-legged on the bed, blanket pulled around her shoulders, eyes red from crying and lack of sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Alina — screaming, scratching, cursing the monsters until the end.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
She had already turned off the lights, used a VPN, opened Tor. She wasn't stupid. She knew the risks. But grief had burned away caution.
She typed into the search bar:
**krossvales bleed reckoning**
The dark web results loaded slowly — hidden forums, encrypted threads, dead links.
One thread caught her eye:
**"The Krossvales Must Bleed – Cell Reports & Recruitment"**
Posted 14 hours ago. 47 replies.
She clicked.
The first post was short:
**"Northern ammo depot hit last night. Two trucks gone. Million in product. Kai's bleeding. Keep cutting. If you want in, go to The Black Serpent Den – Western docks. Lose on purpose at the seventh-floor bar. Slide a black chip to the bald guy in gray vest. Say nothing else. If your hate has blood in it, you're in. No names. No faces. Just vengeance."**
Replies scrolled down — anonymous strings of rage and pain.
*"Lost my brother to Vernon. I'm going tonight."*
*"They raped my cousin. I want them to choke on their own blood."*
*"Kai thinks he's untouchable. We'll prove him wrong. One cut at a time."*
Ira's heart pounded so hard she felt it in her throat.
She scrolled further.
A newer reply — timestamped 3 hours ago:
*"Went last night. Lost a hand. Gave the chip. Downstairs they asked: 'What did the Krossvales take from you?' I told them my sister. They nodded. I'm in. First job next week. They don't promise victory. They promise pain. That's enough."*
Ira's fingers trembled on the trackpad.
She stared at the words.
The words stayed burned into her mind.
After few moments Ira Typed: **The Rook eastern docks gambling den Draxton**
Results were thin — mostly dead links, vague forum mentions from months ago, a few grainy photos of a crumbling four-floor building near the abandoned cranes. No official site. No reviews. No map pins.
She clicked a dark-web thread titled "Draxton Docks – Places to Lose Money and More."
A user posted three weeks ago:
*"The Rook's still running. Fourth floor has the high-stakes tables."*
Another reply:
*"Went last month. Stinks like piss and cheap stims. First floor is street gangs and drunks. Third floor is where the serious money plays. Fourth floor is the place where you talk about The Krossvales ."*
Ira screenshotted every line.
She switched to a regular map, zoomed into the eastern docks — a decaying maze of rusted cranes, abandoned warehouses, and narrow alleys.
She found it: a four-story brick building at the corner of Crane Lane and Saltwater Row. Old sign barely visible: "The Rook – Cards & Chance." Google Street View showed boarded windows, graffiti, a flickering neon sign that read "Open" in broken red letters. The place looked rotten — exactly as described.
She leaned back, heart racing.
Plan formed fast.
She couldn't just disappear after school — Aunt Meera and Uncle Raj would panic. They were already watching her like she might break.
She needed a lie.
She practiced it in her head:
*"Aunt Meera, Uncle Raj… Elvina invited me to her house after school. Her family's having a small gathering. She wants me to come. It'll help me… get out a little. After everything with Alina."*
They wouldn't say no. Not now. Not when they saw how hollow she'd become. They wanted her to smile again, even if it was fake. They'd agree because they loved her — and because they were terrified of losing her too.
Ira closed the laptop.
To be continued....