The campus halls buzzed louder than usual.
Word of the mysterious beatdown outside the boys' dorms had spread like wildfire. The official statement said that a group of drunk frat guys had gotten into a fight with some off-campus kids, but no names were released. Whispers filled the gaps the truth had left wide open. Theories bloomed in every corner of Weaver Community College—from the cafeteria to the art building, to the gym showers and bathroom stalls.
The Deadfast Club wasn't immune.
"That's definitely not just some bar fight," Manny said, leaning across the cafeteria table, his voice low but animated. "You don't leave five guys looking like a demolition crew mistook them for drywall over a spilled drink."
Kym rolled her eyes but didn't disagree. "Please. If it was just a fight, then it was a fight with a damn MMA-trained serial killer."
"Maybe Ghostface is back," Amir suggested, half-joking, half-serious.
Deion—still pretending to be his late twin Marcus—shifted uncomfortably in his seat at that. Liv gave him a side glance, noticing the small flinch in his hand.
"Ghostface is dead," Liv said firmly. "Jamal's gone. That's done. Over. We got answers, remember?"
"Did we, though?" Kym challenged. "I mean, I thought we did. But something feels off. Like—like someone ripped out the last chapter and fed us a fake epilogue."
"Beth didn't seem convinced either," Liv said after a beat. "When she thought we weren't watching. She looked… angry. Sad."
"Grieving," Deion muttered. "She was close to Jamal."
"I dunno," Amir said with a shrug. "Maybe she just missed class 'cause she got into a bar fight too."
They all turned to look at the entrance of the cafeteria, right as Beth strutted in.
She looked like hell.
Bruised cheekbone. Stiff walk. One arm slightly favoring the other. But she still had her signature black eyeliner sharp enough to kill, and her resting murder-face dared anyone to ask questions.
Which, of course, meant everyone was asking questions the moment she passed by.
Beth didn't slow her pace as she made her way toward the food line, but when Liv called out her name, she stopped just short of disappearing into the next hall.
"Beth!"
She turned her head just a bit. "Yeah?"
"You good?" Liv asked. "You look like someone dropped you down a flight of stairs."
Beth gave the faintest smirk. "Something like that."
Kym raised an eyebrow. "Something?"
"I got into an accident," Beth said flatly. "Bike slipped. Curb caught me wrong. Not that it's any of your business."
"You ride?" Amir asked, suddenly interested.
"No," Beth said. "Not anymore."
And with that, she vanished back into the lunch line like nothing happened.
Manny exhaled slowly. "Yeah, okay. That's definitely not a bike injury. I've had two wrecks and none of mine looked that… precise."
"Still," Kym said, eyes narrowing. "You think she was involved in that fight the other night?"
"She disappeared for two days," Liv muttered. "Same time that went down."
"Not alone," Amir added, and they all turned toward him.
"What do you mean?" Deion asked.
"Brandon. The quiet guy. Transferred in mid-semester, remember?"
The group collectively frowned, as if they'd all heard the name but were trying to match it to the face.
"The art major who draws stuff that makes you feel watched," Kym offered helpfully.
"Ohhh," Liv said. "Yeah. Creepy eyes, hands always in his hoodie pockets, talks like he's narrating a detective noir audiobook."
"Well," Amir continued, "he disappeared too. Then showed up the same day Beth did. No bruises, but he looked—off."
"I've seen him at the gym," Deion said slowly.
"He doesn't talk, but he watches. Like, really watches people."
"He's probably just awkward," Liv said, though her tone wasn't fully convinced.
"Maybe," Manny said. "Or maybe Beth isn't the only one we should be keeping an eye on."
Across campus, Brandon entered class exactly sixty seconds after Beth did.
He said nothing. No limp, no marks. Just the same neutral expression he always wore—like he was listening to a conversation no one else could hear. He took a seat at the back, opened his sketchbook, and started to draw like nothing had happened.
Still, when he saw Beth glance back at him, he didn't look away.
Beth didn't give him a reaction. Just a tiny tilt of her head. A silent question neither of them would say aloud.
In the library later that day, Liv stared at her screen without reading the words in front of her.
"Something's happening," she whispered to herself. "Something bigger than Jamal. Bigger than Ghostface."
"What's that?" Kym asked from across the table.
"Nothing," Liv lied, forcing a smile. "Just studying too much."
But she wasn't. She was watching shadows.
And the thing about shadows?
They always moved when no one was watching.
Back in the dorm room, Brandon tossed his hoodie onto his bed and crouched down beside Ashes, who pawed at the laces on his boots.
"She didn't say anything," Brandon muttered. "Not to them. Not about me. Not even about what happened."
Ashes purred, curling into a loaf.
Brandon stared at the ceiling. "We're being watched now. All of us. The Deadfast Club's paranoid. Good. That'll keep them out of our way."
But in his gut, Brandon knew this was temporary. A ceasefire.
Sooner or later, someone would slip.
And when they did, he'd be ready.
Even if it was her…