Page 13 of Stream & Scream

I track the way she yanks her sleeves down, fists curling in the cuffs of that oversized shirt. Her fingers twitch—subtle—but she wraps herself in a blanket like she can hide the tremble. Like fear won’t betray her.

But fearalwaysleaks.

She thinks it makes her look calm. Untouched.

She thinks she’s hiding it well.

But I see it all. The cracks. The fight to keep her chin up. The fury that replaces the fear because it’s easier to weaponize it than drown in it. She flips her middle finger at the dark like she thinks it changes something.

It doesn’t.

But Ilovethat she thinks it does.

I grin behind my helmet. Low. Cruel.

“Run, little clickbait,” I murmur. “Put on the show. Pretend it matters.”

Because the truth?

I’m not just watching her.

I’mstudyingher.

Every twitch. Every pause. Every glance over her shoulder. She’s a livewire in a cage full of cardboard cutouts, and I’m waiting for the exact moment she sparks.

She tries to act untouched—like she’s above the fear soaking the others—but I see the tension. The cracks.

And when she snaps?

It won’t be pretty.

It’ll beart.

I could take her now. Rip through the trees and end this illusion of control she clings to.

Leave her breathless, broken,begging.

But no.

That would be too fast. Too easy.

She doesn’t need a kill. She needs a reckoning.

And I’m going to give it to her.

Milo’s voice again.“Jaxen, you’re trending. Cut to drone four—give us a stare-down. Do the fucking helmet thing. You know they love that.”

I roll my neck. “Beg for it.”

I find drone four hovering above the nearby hilltop. One snap of my fingers and I step into view, slow and sharp. My helmet glints against the light, just enough to snag attention. I tilt my head toward it. Hold the moment.

Then I grin, raise my hand, and wave.

Full-body, over-exaggerated cheerleader wave. Elbow-elbow-wrist-wrist.

Mocking.

Let the viewers eat that shit up.