Page 6

I t’s been two weeks since Levi’s arrest, and the numbness still clings to me like a second skin. AGU feels colder now, its ancient architecture looming like a judgment I can’t escape. The day after Silas left, I came back to Cromwell Hall. The dorm’s gray stone facade, crawling with ivy that’s withered in the chill, feels more like a mausoleum than a place to live.

Dayton came to see me yesterday, knocking on my door with a cocky grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. A distraction. That’s all any of them are. But distractions don’t erase the fact that I don’t trust them. Not anymore. Not after everything.

I don’t know why I’m still here. Maybe it’s habit. Maybe I’m just waiting for something, maybe proof that I made the right choice, or a reason to leave for good.

After Dayton left, I remembered the cameras Kai had installed everywhere. It took me three hours to find and destroy every single one. At least, I think I got them all. But knowing Kai, he’ll find a way to slip back in and set up more.

I can’t fucking escape them.

After class, I pass the library—an imposing Gothic structure with stained-glass windows that casts fractured light alongside the sidewalk even in the gray gloom of the day. Students sit on the steps, laughing and chatting. I keep my head down, avoiding their gazes, the weight of Levi’s absence pressing down on my shoulders. The photos… I can’t stop seeing them, the doubt they planted growing like weeds in my mind. It’s a mess I can’t untangle, no matter how hard I try.

My mother never came home. Just sent our housekeeper over to make sure I had food to eat. I promptly turned her away. When I realized trying to get her to answer me was futile, I just came home. Silas was right, our parents aren’t going to help us out of this one.

I shove my hands into my pockets, my breath clouding in the air as I finally head toward Cromwell Hall. The path winds through the older part of campus, their facades cracked and weathered with age. Moss clings to the stone, and the iron lampposts lining the walkway flicker weakly.

Then I see him.

At first, it’s just a shadow, a figure standing too still on the far side of campus, half-hidden by the trees near the edge of the courtyard. My heart skips a beat, my breath catching in my throat. I freeze mid-step, clutching my bag tighter, my fingers curling into the worn strap. He’s watching me.

I don’t need to see his face to know. I can feel his gaze, heavy and unwavering, burning into me even from this distance.

Who is he? My stomach twists as possibilities flood my mind. Is it Kai, hiding in the shadows to keep me safe? Or is it the Syndicate watching me, reminding me that no matter where I go, I’ll never escape them?

I quicken my pace, my boots crunching against the frosted grass. The figure doesn’t move at first, just stands there. But then, as if sensing my approach, he shifts. Slowly. Purposefully.

He starts walking away.

Panic surges, and without thinking, I break into a near run. My feet pound against the pavement, weaving through scattered groups of students milling about. His stride is unhurried, but he’s just out of reach, slipping through the crowd like a phantom.

“Hey!” I call out, but the word is swallowed by the noise of campus life around me. No one looks my way. No one notices him.

He turns a corner, disappearing behind the edge of Cromwell Hall. My pulse thrums in my ears as I sprint after him, my bag banging against my side. When I round the corner, he’s gone.

I skid to a stop, my chest heaving, my hands shaking. I whip my head around, scanning the courtyard, the dimly lit pathways, the shadows that stretch too long and too far. Nothing.

It’s as if he was never there.

“Hey, Sable!”

Jumping out of my damn skin, I look over and find Heather, my roommate, looking at me, her long red hair flowing out of her beanie, her cheeks reddened by the cold.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her brow furrowing as she looks at me. I force myself to stop and take a breath, but my heart is still racing, my skin tingling with adrenaline.

“I’m fine,” I snap, a little too sharply, trying to crane my neck around her to see if I can still catch a glimpse of the person I was chasing. Nothing.

Heather doesn’t move, though. Instead, she takes a step closer, lowering her voice like she’s about to share a secret. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I heard about Levi, and… well, I’m worried about you.”

“Why?” My voice is clipped, but I don’t care. I don’t have time for this.

She bites her lip, glancing around as if checking to make sure no one’s listening. “Look, I know things have been weird lately, but… I’m moving out of our dorm. For good. Some of the girls at ASL have rented a house, and I am going to take one of the bedrooms.”

My stomach tightens. “What? Why?”

“I just…” she stammers. “Everything with Levi and the rumors about the Horsemen… I’m sorry, but I have to look out for myself. It’s not safe to be around all of this. I know that you were barely there, anyway. But I think it’s best if I just stay away.”

I stare at her, not quite processing what she’s saying.

But before I can respond, she takes a step back.

“I’m sorry, Sable. I hope you understand.”

And with that, she’s gone. I don’t watch her leave, my attention snapping back to the spot where I last saw the dark figure. But he’s long gone, and with him, any chance I had of finding out who he is.

There’s no time to give a shit about Heather. If she doesn’t want to be at the dorm, fine. It’s not like I spend much time there, anyway. Although I have been staying there the past few nights to avoid the boys. But it’s fine. I don’t need her. She was someone who was just… there.

There’s no sign of the figure anymore. It’s like he was never there. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe my brain is playing tricks on me again.

I finally make my way toward my therapist’s office on campus.

Something catches my eye. There, tucked beneath the heavy front door of the building, is a small envelope. I pause, my heart thudding in my chest as I lean down to pick it up. It’s addressed to me, my name scrawled in (the same?) sharp, frantic handwriting across the front.

Sable Wilson

I tear it open, my fingers trembling as I pull out the contents. It’s just a single sheet of paper with a sentence written in thick black ink:

“The sins of his family will bury you.”

The breath catches in my throat. My eyes flick down to the bottom of the note, where there is a small, strange symbol. I recognize it. An upside cross with a single blood drop trickling off of it.

It’s the killer.

The office smells like lavender, normally calming and soft, but today, it doesn’t work. Dr. Walters’ space has a warm glow to it, with its soft lighting and plush chairs, but right now, it does nothing to soothe my mind.

I stare at the framed certificates on the wall above Dr. Walters, trying to focus on something, anything, that keeps me from falling apart. She sits across from me, calm and composed, her eyes gentle behind her thin, wire-rimmed glasses.

“How have you been, Sable?” she asks, her voice the same measured tone she always uses.

I pick at the edge of my hoodie sleeve, pulling the fabric between my fingers and feeling it rub against my skin.

“I’ve been… worse since coming back here.” The words feel heavy like admitting them out loud makes them real. “It’s… I don’t know. It’s like everything is louder. The thoughts, the nightmares. Everything’s just… too much.”

Dr. Walters nods, her expression unchanged but sympathetic. “You’ve had obsessive thoughts before, but you’re saying it’s different now. Can you tell me more about that? What’s louder?”

I swallow hard, trying to untangle the mess of thoughts swirling in my head.

“It’s getting worse. The thoughts aren’t just loud—they’re constant. I feel like I’m spiraling, like I’m constantly being watched.”

My words hang in the air between us, and I immediately regret saying it. I can’t tell her about the Syndicate, about the dark figure stalking me from the shadows. It sounds insane, even to me. Instead, I shift in my seat, focusing on something more manageable—something I can actually explain.

“I’ve been rechecking the locks at the dorm more. Scanning my surroundings. It’s like… I can’t stop myself. Every time I turn a corner, I feel like someone’s there, watching me.”

“Do you think these thoughts are connected to what’s been happening recently? You’ve mentioned a lot of stressors, like the changes in your relationships and the murders. Your mind is trying to grasp control in whatever way it can, Sable.”

The tone of her voice is trained to be comfortable, but it doesn’t do much. I shift again, pulling my sleeve down further over my hand, needing to cover more of myself. “It’s not just the thoughts, though. It’s the nightmares, too. They’ve gotten worse, and the meds… they aren’t working like they used to. I’m starting to wonder if they ever really worked or if they just dulled everything.”

“Nightmares? What are these nightmares like?”

I hesitate, my heart starting to race.

The figure.

The one in black… always watching.

I can’t tell her that.

“I just… feel like someone’s after me. In the dreams, it’s like I’m always running, always hiding, but I can’t see who’s chasing me.”

“Do you believe that’s related to Levi’s arrest as well or… something else?”

Dr. Walters’ gaze sharpens slightly like she’s trying to figure out if I’m holding something back. And I am, but I can’t tell her the whole truth. Not about the Syndicate, not about the cryptic notes.

“I don’t know,” I admit, because it’s not a lie. “It feels bigger than that. Like I’m being watched even when I’m awake. Like there’s something I’m missing, something lurking just outside of what I can see.”

“Do you think it could be something else?” I ask, my eyes avoiding her. “Like… schizophrenia?”

She leans back in her chair, her pen scratching on her notepad before she looks back up at me. “No, Sable. Your symptoms and experiences don’t align with schizophrenia. You’re experiencing heightened anxiety and obsessive thoughts, which can feel overwhelming, but they’re not indicative of a break from reality.”

My shoulders relax just a little at her reassurance. I want to believe her.

Dr. Walters leans forward slightly, her eyes softening. “It’s important to remember that OCD can manifest as an intense need for control, especially when you’re under stress. The compulsive actions, like checking the locks and scanning your surroundings, are your mind’s way of trying to create safety in the face of uncertainty.”

I nod, but the words don’t land where they really need to. In the place in my mind that would make me believe her. They bounce off the walls of my brain, unable to sink in. My heart is pounding, and I feel like the air in the room is getting thinner. “I just… I don’t feel in control anymore.”

“I think it’s time to adjust your medication, Sable. You’ve been on this regimen for a while now, but given everything you’ve been going through, I think we should try something a little stronger for the anxiety. It might help you sleep better, and it could quiet some of the obsessive thoughts.”

I should feel relief at the suggestion, but instead, my stomach twists.

Stronger meds?

Will they really help?

Or will they just numb me?

“Okay,” I finally say, the word feeling hollow in my mouth. “I’ll try whatever you think will help.”

She jots down the new dosage. Once she hands it over, I stare at it for a moment, wondering if it will even make a difference. Maybe the meds will help with the thoughts, but they won’t stop the danger that’s creeping closer. The real danger.

“Take this to the pharmacy today. And if you notice any side effects or if the nightmares continue, call me. We’ll keep adjusting until we find something that works.”

Leaving the appointment, I clutch the prescription note in one hand and the cryptic note from earlier in the other. The tension in my chest hasn’t loosened. If anything, it feels heavier now, like it’s settled deeper into my bones.

I make my way across campus, my steps quick but not quick enough to outrun the feeling crawling up my spine. The figure from earlier flashes in my mind—the way he was there, watching. Was it real? Or was it just another manifestation of my spiraling thoughts?

The answer doesn’t matter because the fear is real. The fear that someone is targeting me, that they’re leaving me these notes.

When I finally reach my dorm, I’m too lost in my head to notice the third note until I’m right in front of my door. There, slipped under the crack, is another piece of paper—much smaller this time. I bend down, my hands trembling as I pick it up.

“How was therapy?”

My breath catches, and my heart thuds painfully in my chest. I stare at the note, my pulse roaring in my ears.

I clutch the paper tightly in my hand, feeling it crinkle beneath my fingers.

What the fuck is this?

So he has been following me.

A sharp noise pulls me from my thoughts. I turn to see a guy from my dorm floor—Jace, I think his name is—walking toward me. He has tousled chestnut hair and bright green eyes that seem to sparkle with kindness.

His smile is warm and inviting. “Hey! You’re Sable, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I reply, forcing a smile.

He chuckles nervously. Just a few weeks ago, I was publicly claimed by not one powerful member of Greek life but four. So I am sure the hesitancy to talk to me is there.

“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I shake my head quickly, my mind racing. “Nah, just overthinking my life choices, you know? The usual college experience.”

Concern flickers in his eyes, but he shakes it off as a joke. “Yeah. You’re talking to the guy who’s changed his major three times.”

I laugh. “You’ll figure it out. Goodnight.”

“Later!” he replies, still smiling as he walks away.

I shut the door and lean against it, my heart racing again. I pull the note from my pocket, unfolding it once more.

“How was therapy?”

What am I supposed to do with this? My thoughts spiral, and I sit on the edge of my bed.

I wrap my arms around my knees, staring at the notes on the bed. The words echo in my head, wrapping around my thoughts like a vise.

“The sins of his family will bury you.”

Whose family is he referring to?