It should have ended with Jordan's fall.
It should have been enough.
But Saint Eden High was a breeding ground for monsters, and when one beast was slain, ten more took its place.
The very next morning, a new rumor exploded across campus — a rumor more vicious than anything Elian had anticipated.
Someone had put a price on his head.
Not death — no.
Saint Eden wasn't that kind of battlefield.
Instead, whoever dragged Elian into scandal, humiliation, or disgrace would receive a scholarship to the most prestigious university in the country… funded by an anonymous donor.
The students went mad.
Classes became arenas.
Hallways became traps.
Friends became hunters.
---
Elian sat alone in the cafeteria, pretending to read a battered chemistry textbook.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw them gathering.
Three seniors.
Big guys.
Athletes.
The kind who lived for dominance.
One of them — Mason Carter — cracked his knuckles loudly, grinning like a wolf scenting blood.
Elian calmly turned a page.
Stay small.
Stay invisible.
Stay quiet.
But they came anyway.
The tray clattered onto his table.
A disgusting mess of mashed potatoes and soda soaked his book, splattering across his uniform.
Laughter erupted.
Phones flashed, capturing every second.
Elian didn't flinch.
He closed the book carefully, stood, and wiped his face with mechanical precision.
"What's the matter, orphan boy?" Mason jeered.
"Can't afford another book? Maybe you should beg for scraps outside."
Another roar of laughter.
Behind the crowd, Elian caught a flash of someone recording — a blonde girl with too much makeup, her eyes gleaming with cruelty.
They wanted a reaction.
They wanted to destroy him, the way they had tried to destroy others before him.
Elian blinked slowly.
Then he did something none of them expected.
He smiled.
A small, broken, terrifying smile.
"You think this is the worst thing that's ever happened to me?" he said, his voice soft, razor-sharp.
Mason's grin faltered.
"You think this matters?"
The words sliced through the crowd, leaving a stunned, uncomfortable silence.
Elian stepped closer to Mason — too close — and looked up at him with those strange, dead eyes.
"You should pray," he whispered, "that all you ever lose... is your pride."
Mason shoved him roughly, trying to reassert dominance.
Elian stumbled back, arms spread wide as if inviting more.
The crowd howled again, this time more uncertainly.
---
After lunch, Elian retreated to the abandoned rooftop behind the science building — the one place nobody ever went except to cry or smoke or disappear.
The rain had cleared, leaving the sky raw and cold.
He stood on the edge, looking down at the wet courtyard below.
For a moment, just a breath, he wondered:
What would it feel like... to fall?
To end it all... on his terms?
His fingers curled around the rusted railing.
A gust of wind tore through him.
And then —
Footsteps.
Soft. Hesitant.
He turned.
A girl stood there.
Short, delicate, with inky black hair that fell over her eyes.
She wore a too-large hoodie that nearly swallowed her small frame.
Her name was Mina Hartwell.
Seventeen.
Art club member.
Known for skipping class and painting haunting, beautiful murals in hidden corners of the school.
No friends.
No enemies.
A ghost like him.
She didn't speak.
Just walked up, leaned against the wall a few feet away, and stared out at the horizon.
After a long while, she muttered, "You don't have to jump, you know."
Elian snorted quietly.
"I wasn't going to."
She shrugged.
"Neither was I.
Last week."
A bitter laugh escaped his throat before he could stop it.
For the first time in a long time, Elian felt something crack open in his chest — something small, painful, and stupidly hopeful.
Mina pulled a crumpled cigarette from her pocket but didn't light it.
"Want to skip sixth period?"
Elian hesitated.
Then nodded.
Without another word, they slipped away from Saint Eden's rotting heart, into the forgotten parts of the city where no one cared what a boy and a girl with too many scars and not enough dreams did with their stolen time.
---
Far above them, unseen behind tinted windows, Liliana watched through surveillance feeds.
Sebastian leaned on the back of her chair, amused.
"Making friends now?"
Liliana's smile was slow and venomous.
"Let him have this," she murmured.
"It'll make the betrayal cut so much deeper."
Sebastian whistled low.
"You're cold."
"I'm practical," Liliana corrected.
"And if Elian is going to survive what's coming next…"
Her gaze darkened.
"...he'll have to lose a lot more than his pride."
---