The storm had faded to a whisper of dripping leaves. The forest smelled of damp soil and the ghost of rain.
Aubrey and Elijah moved side by side along the narrow trail that wound back toward camp. Their steps were slow, hesitant—like two people unsure which way time was turning.
They didn't speak.
The kiss hung between them still: heat and confusion tangled into a silence neither could untie.
To anyone else they were just two survivors trudging through mud, but inside Aubrey, something delicate had cracked. She felt bare, as if some invisible layer of herself had been peeled away and the world could finally see what she'd tried to hide.
She looked at Elijah, his soaked hair clinging to his brow, his jaw set against the cold. A strange ache tightened inside her chest. Was this what it meant to lose part of your innocence—not the physical kind, but the emotional one? The kind that made you believe things could stay simple?
At last she found her voice.
"Elijah…" Her throat felt tight. "What
happens now? Between us?"
He hesitated. Rainwater dripped from his lashes. "I don't know, Aubrey."
The answer cut deeper than she expected. She looked away. "Of course. Chloe's still in the picture. You belong to her world. I should've known better than to think—"
He caught her hand, rough and warm. "Don't say that." His voice softened. "You're not a mistake. You're just… the one thing I can't figure out."
Her heart skipped. "Then figure it out. Do you love her?"
He breathed out, long and uncertain. "I thought I did. I liked the calm she brought. The way everything made sense around her. But with you…" His voice trailed off. "It's different. It's—"
A scream cut through the trees.
Both froze. It was raw, human, filled with terror that made the hair on Aubrey's arms stand up.
Aubrey's pulse spiked. "That was from camp."
They ran. Mud splashed, branches whipped their arms, their lungs burned with every breath. The smell of iron reached them before the clearing did—metallic and wrong.
And when they burst through the tree line—Aubrey's world caved in.
Casey lay sprawled on the ground, her shirt dark with blood spreading like spilled ink. A dagger jutted from her chest, the handle slick under the moon.
Standing above her was Lucian Freeman.
He looked wrong—his eyes wide, unfocused, his limbs stiff and jerking, like a marionette controlled by invisible strings.
"Lucian!" Elijah charged, fury snapping through him. His fist collided with Lucian's jaw, sending him crumpling to the mud with a sickening thud.
Aubrey fell to her knees beside Casey, her hands shaking so violently she could barely move. "No, no, no—Casey, stay with me!"
Her palms pressed against the wound. Blood welled between her fingers, warm and slick and too much. Casey's breaths came in shallow, rattling gasps.
"Aubrey…"
"Don't talk. Please, you're going to be okay. I'll fix this, just hold on." The words tumbled out desperately, as if saying them could make them true.
Casey smiled weakly, red flecks staining her lips. "You always cry when it rains."
"Stop," Aubrey choked. "Don't joke. Please don't."
Casey's trembling hand reached up, smearing blood as she brushed Aubrey's cheek with cold fingers. "I should've told you sooner," she whispered, each word costing her. "I loved you. I think I always did."
Aubrey's vision swam, tears spilling hot down her face. "Don't—don't say goodbye. You can't leave me."
Casey coughed hard, blood bubbling from her mouth. "I'm not scared of dying," she murmured, her voice fading to barely a breath. "Just… scared you'll be alone."
"No!" Aubrey screamed into the night. "Help! Somebody help us!"
Only the forest answered—quiet and rain and the cruel indifference of nature.
Casey's fingers twitched once more. "Hold me. I'm cold."
Aubrey gathered her close, cradling her head, rocking her like a child as sobs wracked her body. Casey's breathing slowed—one breath, then another, each one weaker than the last.
Then it was nothing.
Aubrey froze, waiting for another breath that never came.
"Casey?"
Silence.
She screamed until her throat tore, clutching Casey's lifeless body as if she could drag her soul back by sheer force of will. Tears mixed with blood, the sound of grief echoing through the wet trees like something primal and broken.
Elijah stood a few feet away, pale and stunned, staring at the unmoving Lucian sprawled in the mud.
And somewhere in the darkness, unseen—a red light blinked steadily.
A camera recording it all.
Three Days Later
Screens across Crestwood blazed with headlines that refused to fade.
WELB 7 NEWS — THE AZAQOR MURDERS
Anchor Hillary Raines spoke with practiced gravity, her expression somber beneath studio lights.
"Authorities confirm eight fatalities during Ever Thorne College's weekend retreat. The alleged perpetrator, known online as the 'Azaqor Killer,' remains at large. But one student, Lucian Freeman, has been taken into custody after leaked footage showed him fatally stabbing classmate Casey Rowe."
Clips rolled—the grainy night-vision video of Lucian's trance-like assault, his movements mechanical and wrong. Aubrey's screams echoed in the background, raw and desperate.
Raines continued: "Investigators now believe the killings are connected to a secret betting network called Prize Stakes. What appeared to be a simple game was, in fact, a data-theft system designed to drain users' bank accounts. Multiple victims have since taken their own lives after losing everything."
New footage appeared—Damien Halvern, laughing in a dim apartment, issuing instructions to Ling Zhang.
Stewart Kane, Paul Bishop, Lucian Freeman—all part of the scheme, all smiling like they'd discovered some brilliant joke.
"Authorities say Halvern, presumed the first Azaqor victim, was also its creator. Each of his partners has since been executed by the masked figure. Investigators remain uncertain whether the killer was hired to erase witnesses… or if something far more calculated is unfolding."
The cafeteria at Ever Thorne buzzed with hushed voices that fell silent when Aubrey entered. She sat alone at a corner table, her food untouched, the weight of eyes prickling her skin like needles.
Whispers rippled through the room like static electricity.
"That's her."
"The one who was there when Casey—"
"I heard she was involved with Elijah while—"
She lifted her head just as a slap cracked across her cheek, sharp and stunning.
Chloe stood above her, fury bright in her eyes, tears threatening to spill.
Without a word, she thrust her phone forward. A video played—rain, a ruined shelter, two silhouettes tangled in a desperate kiss. Aubrey's own face stared back at her, lips pressed to Elijah's, hands clutching his shirt like he was the only solid thing in a crumbling world.
Everything inside her turned to ice.
"I trusted you," Chloe said, voice trembling with hurt that cut deeper than anger. "I stood by you when everyone else whispered. And you repaid me with that."
She turned toward Elijah, who hovered nearby, guilt written all over his face like a confession he couldn't speak. Then, looking straight at Aubrey, Chloe seized his collar and kissed him hard in front of everyone—claiming what she believed was hers.
The cafeteria gasped. Phones lifted. Screens glowed with new footage for tomorrow's gossip.
Aubrey sat motionless as the world tilted sideways, the sound of whispers swelling until she could no longer breathe. The walls seemed to close in, faces blurring into a sea of judgment.
She stood abruptly and walked out, holding her head high even as her hands shook.
That night, her apartment was silent except for the soft hum of rain against the windows—a sound that used to comfort her but now only reminded her of everything she'd lost.
Tiana sat beside her on the couch, arms wrapped tight around her shoulders. "You've been through hell," she whispered. "Casey, Chloe, all of it. You didn't deserve any of this."
Aubrey's eyes were hollow, staring at nothing. "I can handle losing Elijah. I can even handle being the villain in Chloe's story. But Casey…" Her voice cracked like breaking glass. "She didn't deserve to die for a game. She didn't deserve any of it."
Tiana brushed her hair from her face with gentle fingers. "You'll find the truth. You always do. That's who you are."
Aubrey looked up, something fierce flickering in her eyes—a spark of the determination that had kept her going through everything. "I already did. I think I finally know who Azaqor really is."
Tiana blinked, pulling back slightly. "You what—?"
The window exploded inward.
Glass rained down like deadly snow. A gunshot split the air—sharp, final, impossibly loud.
Tiana's head snapped back, blood blooming like a rose across the wall behind her. She fell without a sound, her hand slipping from Aubrey's arm.
Aubrey froze, disbelief locking her lungs. Time seemed to stop. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening.
The apartment door creaked open. Slow footsteps echoed across the floorboards, deliberate and unhurried.
She turned, trembling, eyes wide with dawning horror. "It's… you."
The figure stepped into view, and terror stole her breath completely.
Everything she thought she knew shattered like the window behind her.
Then—black.