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SANJANA

After breakfast, I retreated to my room, the only space in the house that hadn’t changed in years, except maybe for the updated paint and the newer chandelier my mom couldn’t resist adding.

Everything else was the same. My bed was made, the comforter crisp and floral, the window seat dust-free, pillows perfectly arranged.

My mother’s version of love always included lemon-scented floor polish and aggressively organized drawers.

I set my bags down and took off my house slippers before plugging my phone in beside the bed.

Light filtered in through the sheer curtains, soft and hazy.

I took a minute to check my notifications.

I hadn’t touched my phone since walking into the house.

My parents had a strict no-phone rule during meals.

Family time was sacred, and today of all days, I hadn’t dared break it.

I know what you did last night.

I bet they don’t. Should I tell them?

This was the only message they’d sent today. It had to be a bluff. A lucky guess meant to rattle me. And yet, I texted back anyway, my frustration spiking.

Who is this?

The reply came immediately.

1031

You’ll see soon.

I want you to scream for me, too.

I stared at the screen, the words I want you to scream for me too glowing back at me like they could crawl out and wrap themselves around my throat.

I wanted to call someone, but it wasn’t even eleven yet, and I knew damn well everyone had been up till the ass crack of dawn.

Roxxi had probably just gone to bed. Ari would have gotten all her schoolwork done and then read a whole series in one sitting.

Cloe would answer, but only because she had a sixth sense for things like this.

Ryder and Cade were spending time with their parents and Cadence this morning, like they always did on Saturdays when they were home. I wouldn’t intrude on that, no matter how much I wanted to hear his voice.

For half a second, I debated calling Ashton.

But something stopped me from doing that, too, and it had nothing to do with guilt.

I didn’t want to rely on him. I needed to stop relying on any specific person if I wanted a chance in hell of making it through this Hunt.

There were going to be times when I wasn’t always with someone. It wasn’t realistic to think otherwise.

I tossed my phone down and went into my closet.

Everything inside was color-coded, pressed, and arranged by season.

I grabbed a soft cream set, deciding I could at least get my daily shower out of the way.

In the bathroom, gold-handled taps hissed to life, steam curling up.

I stripped down and stepped beneath the spray.

Even as the heat fogged the glass and soaked through my hair, my mind stayed alert, fixated on the message from 1031.

By the time I stepped out and towel-dried my hair, tension still sat heavy on my chest.

The hem of my shorts grazed my thighs as I moved.

My phone was lit up with a flurry of new notifications.

Ari

Anyone up?

I replied instinctively

I am.

My phone immediately started to ring.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Ari’s voice came through low and cautious. “Was everything okay with you last night?”

I hesitated, eyes drifting to the window where the sunlight spilled through my curtains, making the world outside look deceptively calm. “I got some more texts, but aside from being dragged into a tunnel by Dennis, my night was fine.”

I wasn’t sharing the details about how the latter half of my evening was spent.

“How are you even functioning?”

I shrugged even though she couldn’t see me. “I’m not sure I truly processed it yet. Were you okay last night?”

“I started getting texts,” she confessed.

“So did Roxxi.”

“Yeah, she told me, but not what they said.”

“Same here. You going to keep yours to yourself, too?”

“I forwarded it,” she replied softly.

I pulled the phone away, tapped the screen, and switched to speakerphone so I could open our thread again.

The past doesn’t disappear just because you pretend it’s not there. The question is, what will you do when it finally catches up to you?

“What the hell does that mean?” I murmured, reading it twice. It was too pointed. Worse, just like with Cloe’s, it felt like a reply.

“Ari,” I said slowly. “There were more messages before these. Weren’t there?”

She grew so quiet I was worried she’d hang up on me, but after another minute, give or take a few seconds, she replied. “I won’t lie to you, Sanj.”

That was an indirect confirmation.

I closed my eyes and sighed. “Why delete them, just to send one?”

“It’s not something I’m ready to talk about yet. I didn’t want to hide that I was getting them, though. I’m sorry. I just… I can’t.”

This was becoming a recurring theme.

I sat down on the edge of my bed, the phone resting on my thigh. “What the living fuck is going on?”

Someone knew things they shouldn’t about all of them.

How did that happen? Secrets. Guilt. Regrets none of us had ever said out loud.

Whoever this was, or these people were, they’d had front-row seats to all our worst moments.

I couldn’t even imagine what my girls were keeping from me and each other.

Essentially, we were all cooked.

God knew the guys were carrying enough demons to sink a city.

Ryder, Cade, Xander, Nick... even Rook. Maybe especially Rook .

Sure, I hadn’t come out and told them about Ryder, but that had only just happened, and not a single one of them would be shocked.

If anything, they'd be more surprised it took this long.

I exhaled quietly.

“Do you have any idea who might know about… whatever this is referring to?” I asked, quieter now, less accusation and more concern.

“No. Only one other person knows, and they’d never say anything. They swore they’d take it to their grave.”

So it wasn’t that she hadn’t shared whatever this was; she just hadn’t shared it with us.

“Let’s hope that promise still means something to them then.” I rubbed at my temples, a dull ache blooming right behind my eyes. Tomorrow was going to unleash a whole new shitshow. “Have you checked the Marked chat anymore?” I asked, already bracing for the answer.

“No. I was trying to keep this all away from me for twenty-four hours. You see that didn’t work out too well.”

“Wanna check together?”

“Yeah,” she replied decisively. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

I navigated through my inbox to get to the right chat. “Geez,” I muttered. “There are over a hundred new messages.”

“With over sixty people in there? I’m not surprised.”

The group chat was a storm of dark jokes tangled with threats, flirtation that edged on disturbing, inside references I didn’t understand. My name popped up more than once—so did the Nest fight, the locker room incident, and even a few issues other people were having with the Huntsmen.

Some were admitting they’d gotten texts, too. Others were just now realizing how wide this thing was spreading. Someone had created a live countdown for The Hunt.

“Less than 48 hours left,” I mused. “On a scale of 1-10, how bad do you think this is going to go for us?”

Ari let out a breath that sounded more like a laugh, if laughing while walking toward a guillotine counted.

“I think we’ve got it in the bag, actually.”

“Are you serious?”

“If pressuring us with vague taunts and you almost getting dragged into a tunnel is the worst of it, which, for the record, I absolutely do not condone that behavior, then yeah. We can handle it.”

“Brittany was getting the business like a rag doll,” I reminded her. “You know she lied about how that went down, right? Did I tell you guys that?”

“Cade filled us in on our main group chat. That doesn’t sit right with me. Especially since she lied outright. I stand by what I said, though. Will it be easy? Of course not, but we can win this. We’ve got a few wildcards on our side, and that counts for something.”

I could hear her rustling around. “I’m going to run the numbers again. See if anything new pops.”

I could appreciate her steady optimism. I had some myself, but part of me still believed we were screwed. Dennis hadn’t managed to drag me into that tunnel, but I had the good sense to know someone else could.

“Well, you do that,” I said, already standing and heading toward my desk. “Let me know what you come back with. I’ve got schoolwork to catch up on while we still have a semi-functioning life.”

“Okay, okay. Go be productive. I’ll text you if anything new comes up.”

“Deal.”

I sat cross-legged in the middle of my bed, my laptop balanced on a throw pillow, the screen cluttered with half a dozen open tabs for the essay due Monday, which felt ironically relevant given the way my life was currently unraveling.

I hadn’t even looked at the paper due Thursday.

That was a problem for future me, assuming the future me survived the week.

Instead of doing what I should’ve been doing, I kept getting sucked into a Reddit thread about Hemlock Heights.

Calling it a rabbit hole would be generous.

This was a full-blown descent.

I’d lived here my whole life and never thought twice about the town slogan: Where the whispers of the past guide the present. It had always sounded like something philosophical for our postcards. I hadn’t thought much of the one for Crowsfell either.

I flipped my phone over as it rang beside me, seeing Ashton just now calling again.

It was past noon, and I’d heard from everyone else but him.

The cheer squad group chat had already checked in—almost each of us was Marked, so everyone was on edge.

Kellan and Noah reached out separately. Even Brooke texted me, and I didn’t know she had my number.

That brought on a whole slew of awkward feelings.