"You didn't seal the contract, Holivan."Clyde's voice cut straight through my head.Nice.
"Wait… can you hear everything I think now?"
"Relax. Only what you choose to send. And I see what you see."
"So it's like talking. Just… inside my head."
"More or less."
"Should I go back and seal it?"
"No. If you get caught, you'll have enough problems without it."
A flood of information slammed into my mind.Layouts.Routes.Movement patterns.Images of staff—where they were, where they were going.
Damn.That was convenient.
"Hey," I said, "how many people are connected right now?"
"Four. Focus. Theodore's room is around the corner. It's already unlocked. Go in. Do your job."
So this is how he uses it every time?I smirked.
Who was the first person he figured it out with?And what if—
No.With his face and reputation? Not a chance.
Getting into the elite dorm was easy.Too easy.Empty.
I slipped in through the back entrance without anyone noticing.
Second floor.Theodore's room—nothing like mine.
First—he lived alone.Second—it was full of personal stuff.Third—a landline. With a full list of numbers.
…Right.Five-star life.
I planted the bug exactly where Clyde told me to.Slipped out.Pulled the thin wire from the lock—keeping the latch from clicking.
Done.Easy.
…At first.
After that—everything went to hell.
I had to keep changing direction.Hide in storage rooms.
At one point—I was hanging off the outside of a window frame.Third floor.
What the hell were all these staff even doing here?Most students were gone.
Finally—last room.
Bug planted.Done.
All I wanted now—was sleep.
"Shit!"
Clyde's voice snapped in my head.
An image slammed into my mind—a cleaner.Stepping out of the next room.Turning.Straight toward me.
Panic hit—for half a second.
Then—Taisha.Control.Move.
I pulled the wire free.Held the door so it wouldn't click.Pocketed it—and dropped under the bed.
The door opened.
Through the hanging blanket—legs.
She walked in.Slow.Careful.Cleaning.
I didn't move.Didn't breathe.
Vacuum.She pushed it under the bed—I rolled to the other side.Flat.Still.
She pulled it back—I rolled again.Perfect timing.
Bathroom.Bucket.Mop.
Then—she stepped closer.Lifted the blanket.
Cold sweat ran down my spine.
If she bends—I'm done.
A knock.
Saved.
She straightened.
I exhaled—once.
Not safe.Not yet.
"Oh?" Christina's voice. "Is Milan not here?"
"S-sorry, miss… he went home for the holidays…"
Time.That was all I needed.
I rolled out—silent—and slipped behind the curtains.
Window.Locked.
Click.Too loud.
"What was that?"
No time.
I climbed out.
Hanging wasn't an option—she'd see my hands.
So—I stepped sideways.Onto the decorative ridge.
Narrow.Smooth.Barely there.
My foot almost slipped immediately.
I pressed against the wall.Fingers digging into cold stone.
Move.Slow.Careful.
Don't fall.Don't look down.
I heard her reach the window.
Don't look.Don't—
Click.Closed.
I exhaled.Then froze.
Next window—locked.
My legs started shaking.Cramping.
Third floor.
If anyone looks up—
"What do I do?"
"You idiot. How did you even end up there?"
"Had a better option?"
Silence.
My foot slipped.I barely caught myself.
Heart pounding.Hands numb.Cold biting into my fingers.
Think.Look.
There—a tree.Ten meters.
That's it.That's all I've got.
I raised my hand.Released my power.
With Miror—I could never shape it right.
Robert made spears.Matthew—plates.Alma—explosive spheres.
Me?A mess.
A strand.
…No.A rope.
I snapped my wrist—wrapped it around the trunk.Pulled.Held.
Good.Strong enough.
I stepped off.
"Idiot!"
I fell—and pulled at the same time.
The rope tightened—dragged me sideways—into the tree.
I hit the trunk—hard—but alive.
Holy shit.It worked.
"I'm good."
"Have you ever done that before?"
"Nope. First time."
"And if it hadn't worked?"
"Then they'd be scraping me off the pavement. Either way—I didn't have a choice."
"Idiot. I was already working on a solution. Another few seconds—"
I dropped to the ground and started back.
"It worked. Don't start."
"Lunch. Second tier."
Cold.Sharp.
The connection cut.
At least I can sleep now.
Yeah.Right.
My room—looked exactly the same.
Trash.Bodies.Chaos.
Only difference—Conny cleaning around the corpses—and Miguel finishing off the last of the whiskey like it personally offended him.
I took a breath.
Then—
"Up. All of you. Now."
Groans.A lot of groans.
Good.They're alive.