Page 58

SANJANA

For the second time that week, the relentless chime of my phone jolted me awake. I groaned, blindly reaching toward the nightstand, fingers walking across the surface until they brushed over the screen. I dragged the phone off and cracked one eye open.

“What the hell?”

Seventy-four messages?

I opened the other eye. No, this wasn’t a text, but a group chat I was added to with seventy-four participants. Did I even know that many people? I blinked against the light, trying to make sense of the mess. The name of the thread glared back at me in bold caps:

TEO

Right at the top was a pinned message from a four-digit number, different than the one I kept blocking.

1225

What’s your favorite scary movie?

Doesn’t matter. I’m about to rewrite the script.

The message count climbed faster than I could read.

Mehgan Darnell:

What kind of bullshit is this?

Eric Grady

Yo, who the hell made this group? Not cool, man.

Olivia Martinez:

LMAO! What’s your favorite scary movie? Serious? I’m going to say Scream just for the vibes.

??????

Ashton Hayes

Whoever this is, you’re going to be reported for harassment.

Rachel Thompson

The Shining easily. Redrum all the way.

Cade Voss

Have I been officially Marked? Finally. Everyone was getting notes but me.

Ellie Newton

Ohhh, this is getting mysterious. Who’s behind this? I might just like it ??

Then, like a shadow stepping into the light, a new admin appeared.

0426

You’re just dying to find out, aren’t you?

Careful… curiosity killed the cat. Or maybe something worse.

? Replying to Ellie Newton

Jason Rowe

Crows Hunt baby!

Roxxanne Sterling:

Nicholas, what is this?

Ryder Voss

I'm impressed someone managed to get all of our phone numbers.

Nick Blackwell

That’s not my fucking name, Vixen.

I didn’t do this, tf. I’m added too.

Also, good morning.

A new reply lit up immediately beneath his:

Brandon Dawson

Woah. A simp.

? Replying to Nick Blackwell

Aiden Carter

Woah. A dead guy.

? Replying to Brandon Dawson

Brittany Klein

It can’t be Nick. He’s the Hemlock Host this year and has done absolutely nothing worthy of the job.

Nick Blackwell

You volunteering?

Ethan Light

How do I leave this chat?

0426

When you die.

? Replying to Ethan Light

Cade Voss

I’m going back to bed.

More names and messages flooded in. Everyone had something to say, and there was a major difference of opinion on how to take the chat. A few people were annoyed. Others were too amused for my liking, amped that The Hunt was one day closer, like this was a game they couldn’t wait to play.

I scrolled to the top of the thread and tapped open the participant list. I recognized more names than I expected to, including my closest friends.

I almost dropped a reply in like everyone else, pretending I wasn’t the least bit rattled, but I had been doing too good of a job ignoring the private texts to throw myself in a whole gauntlet of them.

This wasn’t some random prank. It was tied to The Hunt, and I wasn’t about to give whoever was watching the satisfaction of a reaction.

I muted the chat and tossed my phone onto the bed as I flopped onto my back, my eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Last night had been... a lot.

I may have had a tiny breakdown and gotten too deep in my own head, overthinking everything I possibly could.

It lasted until the food showed up. Of course, I ate every bite.

I wasn’t letting that Alfredo or tiramisu go to waste.

Afterward, I pulled myself together enough to face the girls.

All the while, they weren’t having a much better day than I was—Ari excluded.

She’d been on emotional standby in her room, waiting for the all-clear.

Roxxi was halfway to getting dressed in all black, like she was about to commit a robbery or murder.

Cloe had gone full Waiting to Exhale.

She was standing in the kitchen, sipping a chilled glass of Bellara No.

9, the kind of Moscato that costs three figures and looks like revenge in a bottle.

She’d lit a candle too, so I knew it was a bad day.

Fireside Seduction was flaming away on the counter, and she looked one bad comment away from having someone’s transmission torched.

Naturally, I had her pour me a glass too.

Roxxi and Ari joined us in the living room, and we ended up having a pitiful version of circle time for emotionally unstable college girls who were on the verge of unhinged, expulsion-level behavior.

Cloe went first. Ranted about Lindsey ghosting her, but then posted three selfies, but still hadn’t opened their shared Doc or shown up to class.

Roxxi followed with a dramatic retelling of her argument with one of her professors during a lecture inspired by The Hunt that focused on the psychological profile of Final Girls.

He claimed most survivors were chosen because they were pure or morally superior.

She called him out and cited real Crowsfell data from past Hunts.

The kind that showed survival wasn’t about being a virgin or saying no to parties.

It was about resilience, instinct, and knowing when to play the game better than anyone else.

Apparently, when he told her, she was emotional and proved his point.

The guy had forgotten who he was debating with, but she reminded him with a rebuttal of:

“You know what’s really emotional? Hiding a porn-stash of worn cheerleader rosters and senior photos in the locked bottom drawer of your desk. The one you think no one knows about.”

Then she grabbed her bag and walked out of class.

Ari shifted in our recliner, tucking her legs beneath her. “I don’t have much to share. Sorry, guys.”

I waved her off. “Ari, don’t apologize for not having a shitty day. We don’t need to be comrades in the negatives.”

That got a few soft laughs.

She hesitated, then added, “I did see something, though.”

She swirled the last sip of Moscato in her glass and tucked a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear. “Layla seemed… off today. I saw her after class walking with someone I didn’t recognize at first. She was tall, really glam, blonde.”

Roxxi cut in, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Glam blonde as in stacked and sculpted, or fake and filtered?”

Ari’s brow pinched. “I understood all of that except stacked . What does that mean?”

Cloe answered. “A body that defies logic.”

Roxxi used her hands to shape an exaggerated hourglass in the air. “Biologically blessed in all the ways that make you question your self-worth.”

Ari gave a single, knowing nod. “Oh. Then yeah. She was very stacked, and her makeup was flawless.”

Cloe slightly puckered her lips in thought. “That narrows it down to half the Crowsfell population.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Ari added. “She had a tattoo—a green dragonfly on the back of her neck, impossible to miss.”

My stomach dropped a little. I knew who it was.

“Sarah Myers,” I murmured.

“Mhm, but that’s not all. They ducked off and kissed with a whole lot of passion. I walked right by without them noticing.”

I tried to picture that. “I had no idea Layla was into girls.”

“If she can sit on it or swallow it, she’s into it,” Roxxi preached, making Cloe laugh.

“That explains why I haven’t heard much from her lately.”

A look passed between them, subtle but there.

I frowned. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Roxxi replied, way too fast. “Just not shocked Layla’s kissing our ass one day and getting off with our enemy the next. Why was Sarah on campus so late?”

“I forgot to tell you. Ash said she was transferring or something like that.”

Roxxi lowered her glass promptly after she’d just picked it up again, slowly. “Sarah Myers? The girl I beat the shit out of in high school is transferring to Crowsfell?”

I blinked. “You what ?”

Cloe leaned back and took a long sip like it was water. “Bathroom fight. Roxxi did what needed to be done. I guarded the door.”

“She popped off one time too many and swung at me first.”

“Why am I only now finding out about this?”

Roxxi lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I honestly haven’t thought about her much until now. Let’s go back a bit to what you said. Ashton told you?”

All three of them stared at me.

What followed was an overdue conversation.

One that started with a hesitant, “Okay, so…” and unraveled into me finally laying everything out.

Ashton, Ryder, and the whole messy situation, including the Nest brawl, leaving out the more explicit details.

Some things did not need to be repeated out loud.

They didn’t need to hear about how badly I wanted Ryder inside me or that I remembered the night I kissed him in vivid, obsessive detail.

I could see on their faces that they were connecting the dots anyway.

“Well,” Cloe mused thoughtfully, “It’s about damn time one of you were productive in getting this show on the road.”

“Are you forgetting we’ve been seeing other people?”

Roxxi let out a sigh like I’d exhausted her soul.

“And did you take nothing from our last conversation? Ashton is not the one for you. He’s as interesting as wheat toast, and not at all built for you, babe.

Emotionally. Mentally. Not sexually either, I bet.

I’ve always seen him as… temporary . Not to mention, again , that Slim-Jim dick asshole raised his voice at you.

He deserved everything Cade and Nick gave him. ”

Ari nodded in agreement. “I knew something else was behind that brawl last night.”

“Hey, he may have thrown the first punch, but we all know there was a fair bit of goading behind it,” I stated, trying to keep things fair.

“So? He let himself be goaded,” Cloe laid out.

Roxxi stretched her legs and crossed them at the ankle. “You know, you should have gotten with Ryder ages ago. Your connection with him isn’t just history; it’s a pattern. Consistency. You two always orbit back to each other.”

“I never told him how I felt ages ago.”

She gave me a look. “He already knew.”