Page 18

SANJANA

I arrived at the library right after my final class, as I’d promised.

Professor Wise had assigned a critical analysis essay on influence in digital spaces, due first thing Monday morning, and my brain already felt like it was buffering.

I had another paper due that same week, so I foresaw myself spending a lot of time on this part of campus and locked away in my bedroom.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the tall, arched windows.

The space always looked like something out of a historical novel.

It was three stories high with ornate ceilings, faded murals, and rows of towering bookshelves packed with books.

It was one of the few places that could still calm me.

Here, the lake back home, and the old, abandoned quarry were my sanctuaries when Ryder wasn’t an option.

A few students were scattered around, some buried in textbooks, others typing with earbuds in and snacks hidden beside their laptops.

The hum of productivity lingered in the air like background music, comforting and familiar.

I sent a quick text in our main chat and then to Ashton, sliding my phone back into my jeans pocket, only to pull it out again to silence my notifications.

The group chat with the girls was blowing up.

Cici

What’s going on with you and Ryder? ??

Roxxi

Drop an eggplant if you’ve been secretly hooking up.

I scoffed at that, garnering the attention of a guy with shoulder-length blonde hair trying to study. I mouthed an apology and hurried past him.

Ari

You don’t have to tell us until you’re ready.

I sighed and sent a reply, so they didn’t think I was leaving them on read.

Nothing’s going on. It’s complicated.

You know that. I’m at the library now. Layla’s waiting. Fill you in later. Promise.

After sending the message, I felt a twinge of regret.

I was getting into the habit of telling people we'd catch up later, only to end up distracted by side quests when later arrived.

I watched the screen, noting the typing bubbles appearing.

They had hoped for years that Ryder and I would become more than friends; in many ways, we had, but even without knowing all the reasons, we hadn't fully progressed.

They at least understood that a relationship between us would be anything but ordinary.

I walked past more towering rows of books, wishing I could stay longer. Crowsfell's literary catalog was impressive, featuring some of the gritty bodice rippers that had fueled my early love for fiction with flawed characters and darker undertones.

I found Layla at a table near the back. She looked nothing like the put-together girl from that morning. Her face looked weary, her posture rigid, and her expression off. I could tell this was more than just a rough day.

"Lay?" I called softly, trying to keep my tone light.

She scanned the library, her eyes darting to the few students nearby. "Let's talk in a hub."

I nodded. "Lead the way."

We navigated through the maze of shelves to a study room tucked in the back corner.

It provided enough privacy with its thick glass walls and a door that muted outside noise.

As soon as she closed us in, her energy shifted.

She turned to me, her face crumpling. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she blinked rapidly, as if trying to hold them back.

"Lay, what's happening? Take a seat." I offered her a chair, and she sat down.

Her hands shook as she wiped her cheeks, her mouth opening and closing as though she couldn't find the words. “It’s bad, Sanj,” she whispered, voice cracking. “So damn bad.”

I took the chair next to hers. "Just tell me. Whatever it is, we'll handle it."

She took a deep breath, let it out, and then repeated as if preparing for a blow. "I think I'm pregnant."

Oh, fuck.

A million thoughts zipped through my head. Outwardly, I didn’t so much as blink too hard. “Is it…?”

“I haven’t slept with anyone else,” she rasped.

Yeah, I figured as much. For her sake, I wished she had.

I didn’t need her to give more details on that part.

Not when I knew who the father was and how deep this situation ran.

She was sitting in front of me, scared out of her mind.

All that mattered was her knowing she wasn’t facing this by herself.

“You don’t have to deal with this alone; we’ll do it together.”

“He’ll hate me, Sanj,” she mumbled.

“ He is half the reason this happened, Lay. And he’s damn sure old enough to know better.”

That asshole had wormed his way into her heart, her trust, and twisted everything around until it felt like a choice.

Layla had once insisted it was consensual, and in her mind, it was, but from what she’d told me, this started years ago.

She truly believed what they had was real love.

I had tried to help her see it was nothing more than manipulation and sweet words by a man old enough to be her father. He literally had half the damn title.

Her mom was no better.

That waste of air was a vicious drunk who once accused her daughter of exactly what was happening, as if she somehow manifested it herself.

Sober, the woman played the part of a saint, churchgoing, and wearing pearls.

Intoxicated, she was a nightmare. She used to be a therapist before going into a different medical field.

I was still trying to figure out how she managed that when her whole household was in deep need of therapy.

I shoved the rising fury down and leaned in, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. I had to remind myself she didn’t need my judgment.

Her voice came quietly, hesitant. “Sanj. You’re the only one I’ve told. That’s why I wanted to talk here. I know the other girls are my friends too, but you’ve all grown up together and…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” I cut in gently, and I meant it. I understood that she didn’t trust them the way she trusted me, and I couldn’t fault her for it. Our friendships had been built on different foundations.

Her shoulders curled inward. “I haven’t taken a test yet.”

I sat back a bit. “Okay. How late are we talking?”

“A little over two weeks.” Her fingers fidgeted in her lap. “I’ve never been late before.”

That clenched something in my chest. “Alright. The first thing we do is stop panicking. You don’t know anything for sure yet. We’re going to take this one step at a time.”

There was a pause. Then, in the softest voice I’d ever heard from her: “Will you…can you buy it for me?”

Of course, she didn’t want to be the one to walk into a pharmacy and pick up a pregnancy test, not in this town.

Hemlock Heights had eyes everywhere and mouths that never stayed shut.

I didn’t even want to be seen buying one, but I’d rather people think it was for me than risk Layla catching fire from the rumor mill.

I knew my ass wasn’t pregnant. The few and fleeting times I’d had sex, I made sure Ashton wrapped it up, and I was on the shot to help with my periods.

“I’ll get it. I can go after this.”

Her bottom lip quivered slightly, her fingers tightening around each other. “Are you sure?” she asked, looking at me like she wasn’t fully convinced.

“I am. We can head to my place, and you can wait there while I run and grab them. You drove today, right?”

She shook her head. “No. I walked.”

“You-you walked?”

“Yeah. I did ride back to your place with Cloe and Arianna last night, but then I ended up going home after he called.” She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and added, “We had a good morning.”

I wasn’t sure why that last part was relevant for me to know. I didn’t want to think about what constituted a ‘good’ anything for them.

I was still stuck on the fact she’d walked to campus. She may have lived on this side of town, too, but my house was much closer. That had to take at least thirty minutes, and it would’ve been cold.

“But why did you walk?”

She gave a small, almost embarrassed shrug. “My battery was dead, I think. Alex had already left for work, so no jumper cables.”

I bit my tongue before saying anything about that man. “You should’ve called or texted me then, Lay.”

“You were with Ashton.”

“And?” I would have made him go and help her, or I would’ve gotten him to take me to my car so that I could. “If that happens again, call me. Okay? Doesn’t matter what I’m doing.”

She nodded, her eyes glimmering again with that fragile edge of overwhelmed emotion. Both of our phones buzzed on the table at the same time, breaking up the moment. We exchanged a look, and I picked mine up while she checked hers.

“They just announced The Hunt,” she said quietly.

My thumb hovered over the message before clicking the link that took me straight to the official Crowsfell University page broadcasting the news. Right at the top was the university’s mantra:

Tradition in Darkness. Knowledge in Blood.

Est. 1889.

Beneath it, a new banner had been added:

We’re thrilled to bring back our beloved Hunt!

Prepare for tradition.

Prepare for challenge.

Prepare to survive.

Over the next few days, the Marked will be notified of their selection.

Notification may come in the form of a note passed along, a late-night phone call, or, if you’re especially lucky, your Huntsman delivering the news personally.

You’ll be getting to know each other quite well… if you manage to survive that long.

As always, we strive to make the Hunt an exhilarating and unforgettable experience for all participants. Guidelines have been established and must be followed. Failure to comply will result in immediate disqualification. Further details will follow shortly, along with the official launch date.

Until then:

Stay sane.

Stay safe.

Prepare for The Hunt!

Layla’s voice was hushed when she spoke again. “With everything going on, I almost forgot about this.”

“I wish I could.”