The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting harsh stripes across Nate's room.
He woke instantly.
No drowsiness.
No confusion.
Just an electric tension humming through his veins.
The card under his shirt felt hot against his skin.
Alert.
Ready.
Something was coming.
---
At Westbrooke, classes started normally.
Laughter in the hallways.
Locker doors slamming.
Teachers droning on.
But to Nate, it all felt wrong.
Too normal.
Like the last calm breath before a storm.
During second period, as he crossed the open courtyard toward the library, he saw them.
Three men.
Hard-jawed.
Out of place.
Moving with purpose.
Straight toward him.
> "Here we go," Nate thought grimly.
---
They didn't bother hiding their intentions.
The tallest one, with a scar cutting through his eyebrow, lunged first.
Nate dodged sideways — just barely.
He wasn't trained for this.
Not yet.
But instinct sharpened by survival screamed at him to move.
The second man grabbed his backpack, yanking him backward.
Nate stumbled — then twisted sharply, swinging the pack around like a weapon.
It cracked against the man's ribs, giving Nate just enough space to bolt.
---
Students watched.
Some gasped.
Some pulled out phones.
Most just froze.
No one helped.
At Westbrooke, help came with consequences.
---
The third attacker cut him off near the fountains.
A heavy fist slammed into Nate's stomach, folding him over.
Pain exploded through him.
Stars danced in his vision.
The scarred man stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.
> "Wrong kid to mess with, Carter," he sneered.
Behind them, footsteps approached fast.
> No… not footsteps. Boots.
Military boots.
Agent Eira appeared like a blade of light.
She didn't hesitate.
A quick movement — too fast to track — and the scarred man was on the ground, gasping for air.
The second attacker tried to grab her.
A mistake.
She twisted his arm behind his back and slammed him face-first into a bench.
The third man backed away, eyes wide.
But Eira was already there — a kick to the knee, a punch to the throat.
Three down.
In under ten seconds.
---
Nate leaned against the fountain, coughing, his vision still swimming.
Eira turned to him, adjusting her jacket like she had merely swatted a few flies.
> "First contact confirmed," she said calmly.
"They'll escalate next time."
Nate wiped blood from his lip.
> "They?" he rasped.
> "Your enemies," Eira said, eyes like knives.
"And they're only just beginning."
---
High above, from the third-floor science window, Caleb watched it all unfold.
His mouth twisted into a bitter smile.
> "You survived today, Carter. But you won't survive what's coming next."
He turned away, already making another call.
Already setting another plan in motion.
The game wasn't over.
It had just begun.
---