Page 27 of The Drama King

It was a perfect example of their psychological manipulation—the cruelty disguised as academic discussion, the threats wrapped in intellectual language. Even if I reported this conversation, they'd claim it was a misunderstood scholarly debate.

But this time, I was prepared.

My phone had been recording since the moment they entered the studio, the app Stephanie had installed running discreetly in the background. Every slur, every threat, every calculated cruelty was being captured.

"You're right," I said calmly, pulling out my phone and stopping the recording. "Just a conversation. One that I'm sure the Dean of Students will find very interesting when I submit it as evidence of the hostile environment scholarship Omegas face on this campus."

The change in their expressions was immediate. Corvus's analytical mask slipped, revealing genuine surprise, while Dorian's face flushed with anger.

"You recorded us without consent," Corvus said, his voice sharp. "That's illegal."

"Actually," Stephanie interjected with satisfaction, "New York is a one-party consent state for audio recordings. As long as one person in the conversation knows it's being recorded, which Vespera did, it's completely legal."

"Plus," Robbie added, his voice steady now, "this is a university facility. There's no expectation of privacy, and the student handbook explicitly states that discriminatory harassment based on designation is grounds for disciplinary action up to and including expulsion."

I felt a surge of pride at how quickly my friends rallied to support the strategy. We'd discussed this possibility during our planning sessions, but seeing it work in practice was incredibly satisfying.

"This isn't over," Oakley said, his voice low and threatening.

"You're right," I replied, meeting his gaze steadily. "It's not. Because this recording is going into a file with all the other documentation we've been collecting. Every threat, every slur, every instance of harassment. We're building a case that even the Ashworth family's influence won't be able to dismiss."

For a long moment, the two Alphas stood frozen, clearly recalculating their approach in light of this new development. Then Corvus straightened, his composure returning.

"Interesting strategy," he said coolly. "Though I wonder if you've considered all the potential consequences of escalating this situation."

Without another word, both Alphas turned and left the studio, their exit somehow managing to seem both dignified and threatening.

The silence that followed felt almost oppressive. Then Stephanie let out a shaky breath.

"Holy shit," she said. "Did that actually just happen? Did we actually stand up to them?"

"We did," I said, though my hands were trembling as I saved the recording to our shared evidence folder. "And we got it all documented."

"The look on their faces when you pulled out the phone," Robbie said with grim satisfaction. "They're so used to operatingwithout consequences that they didn't even consider we might be recording them."

"This is just the beginning," I warned. "They're going to escalate now. Try to find ways to retaliate that can't be traced back to them."

"Let them try," Stephanie said fiercely. "We're not the same scared kids who arrived here at the beginning of the semester. We're organized now. We have evidence. And we have each other."

We were still outnumbered and facing opponents with vastly more resources. But for the first time, I believed we might actually fight back effectively.

"So," Robbie said, returning to the piano bench, "shall we get back to work? I think I'm feeling a lot more emotionally vulnerable now."

Despite everything, I laughed. "I think we all are. But maybe that's not such a bad thing."

As he began playing "Being Alive" again, I watched Stephanie return to her lighting work. The amber glow transformed the space, making the future seem a little less frightening.

eleven

Vespera

Halloweendecorationshadappearedovernight across Northwood's campus. Carved pumpkins grinned from dormitory windows, fake cobwebs draped across the library entrance, orange and black banners fluttered in the late October wind. The festive atmosphere felt surreal considering the tension that had settled over the theater department since midterm grades were posted.

I clutched my coffee cup tighter as I hurried toward the mandatory department meeting, the warmth seeping through my fingers doing little to calm my nerves. The past week had been surprisingly quiet since our confrontation in the rehearsal studio. Too quiet. Dorian's pack seemed to have vanished into strategic retreat, which worried me more than their direct harassment ever had.

"You're running late," Stephanie observed, falling into step beside me as we approached the lecture hall. "That's not like you lately."

"Couldn't sleep," I admitted. "Something about this meeting feels important. Like they're planning something."