The winter sun was sharp against the pavement, casting long, slicing shadows across the school courtyard as Lottie stepped through the main doors. The instant her foot touched the last step, the crackling snap of a camera shutter tore through the air.
"Miss Hayes! Is it true Evelyn's been suspended indefinitely? Are you aiming for her position next?"
A man with a pressed coat and gleaming camera lunged forward, eyes sharp, voice eager. Lottie froze, her pulse leaping—and in that sliver of breath, the familiar flicker danced at the edge of her mind.
Mislead Pulse.
The world seemed to slow. She tilted her head slightly, allowing the Pulse to surge. In the next instant, the paparazzo's eager expression twisted in confusion as his camera lens swung wide, catching the wrong angle, his triumphant grin faltering. The sharp click of his shutter caught nothing but empty stone steps.
Lottie's lips curved into a faint, composed smile as she turned.
"Leo," she murmured softly into her earpiece, barely moving her mouth, "back exit."
"Already waiting," came Leo's low, amused reply. "Run, princess."
From the side, Amy darted to Lottie's shoulder, her arm lifting in a surprisingly fierce gesture as she blocked another reporter attempting to shove a microphone forward. Her breath came in sharp, uneven bursts, cheeks flushed, hands trembling just slightly as she stood her ground.
"Back off! She's not answering questions!" Amy's voice cracked slightly, but her eyes flashed with sudden steel, surprising even herself. Her fingers curled tightly into the strap of her bag, knuckles pale, but she didn't step back as the reporters surged forward.
The crowd buzzed like a nest of wasps—questions flung, hands reaching, cameras raised. Lottie, calm and precise, let Amy's makeshift shield hold as she pivoted neatly, her steps cutting between frozen reporters like a blade through silk. She slipped into the narrow alley at the building's side, the din falling behind her like a curtain.
The air in the alley was cold, damp, laced with the faint metallic scent of rain yet to fall. Lottie's heart hammered, a muted thunder against her ribs, but her expression remained serene. Each footfall was measured, heels tapping sharply against the worn pavement as she drew in a steadying breath, the cool air slicing into her lungs like glass.
Leo stood near the fire door, casual as ever, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, a grin tugging at his mouth. His blond hair was tousled by the wind, sharp eyes glinting with mischief as he caught sight of her. His boot tapped against the brick wall in a slow, deliberate rhythm, the sound grounding, steady.
"Not bad," he murmured, eyes crinkling as he pushed off the wall. "You're getting faster."
Lottie exhaled, the cold air cutting sharp into her chest. "They're just getting sloppier." Her voice was soft, almost breathless, but the steel beneath it was unmistakable.
Behind her, the reporters' shouts escalated, but the door clicked shut, and in that breathless silence, Lottie allowed herself the faintest laugh. It was quick, almost soundless—a wisp of air escaping her lips—but it lingered between them, curling in the narrow space like smoke.
Leo's grin widened as he raked a hand through his hair. "You're making a habit of this, Whitaker."
Lottie arched a brow, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, fingers cool against her skin. "Someone has to keep you entertained."
Across town, in a sleek apartment brimming with tension, Evelyn slammed her hands against the edge of a gleaming glass table. The surface quivered under the impact, a delicate water glass tipping dangerously before settling with a faint, ominous clink.
"Useless," she hissed, eyes locked on the grainy footage streaming across her laptop—footage of Lottie stepping into the courtyard, the cameras swinging wildly, the target slipping through as if by smoke. Evelyn's jaw tightened, a pulse leaping at her temple. Her fingers curled against the table's edge, nails biting into the smooth surface, the faint sound of scraping filling the room like static.
"Why does she always—" She caught herself, teeth sinking briefly into her lower lip as she forced a brittle smile. Her reflection flickered in the darkened screen, too-bright eyes, a smile stretched thin and sharp, trembling at the edges. "No matter," she murmured softly, eyes narrowing. "Let her dance. The higher she climbs, the harder she falls."
Back at school, Amy drew in shaky breaths, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched her phone. Her shoulders were rigid, the knot at the back of her neck drawn so tight it ached, but beneath the swirl of adrenaline, a flicker of fierce satisfaction sparked. For once, she had stood between Lottie and the chaos—had felt the surge of defiance rise through her, hot and wild and utterly unfamiliar.
"You were amazing," Lottie murmured softly, squeezing Amy's shoulder with a brief, grounding touch. Amy startled, flushing with surprise and pride all at once, the chill of Lottie's fingers sharp against the warmth of her skin.
"I—I didn't even think," Amy stammered, words tumbling over each other like loose beads. "I just… they were everywhere."
"That's why it worked," Lottie murmured, eyes softening for a heartbeat before her expression settled back into composed steel. She raised her phone, fingers skimming over the screen, the cold glow casting faint shadows across her face.
Amy let out a shaky laugh, brushing hair back from her flushed cheeks. "I thought I'd faint, honestly."
Lottie's gaze flicked to her, a glimmer of amusement in the cool calm of her eyes. "You didn't."
A new message blinked across Lottie's screen.
Mason: "Evelyn's next play is already brewing. Be ready."
Lottie's lips pressed into a fine line. Her thumb hovered briefly over the screen before she tucked the device away, eyes sharpening.
"Leo, get the team on standby," she murmured under her breath.
Leo raised a brow, grin sharpening. "I like the sound of that."
The school courtyard, moments ago a hive of chaos, now emptied in slow ripples—whispers trailing behind Lottie like ghostly threads.
"Did you see how she slipped away?"
"Evelyn's side is losing control."
"She didn't even flinch."
Inside Evelyn's apartment, the air grew heavier, colder. Evelyn's fingers danced across her keyboard, her mind a furnace of calculation. On the screen, a blurred image flickered—Lottie's silhouette caught at the edge of a frame. The caption beneath read: "Lottie Hayes—rising star or calculated player?"
Evelyn's laugh was sharp and brittle, slicing the stillness. "Oh, sweetheart," she whispered to the screen, "you have no idea what's coming."
⸻
That evening, the school courtyard transformed into a battlefield of light. Reporters lingered at the gates, flashes popping like sparks. The sharp scent of ozone hung in the air, mingling with the crisp bite of winter, as teachers whispered behind closed doors. The student body simmered with anticipation, gossip crackling through hallways like dry tinder.
In the common room, Lottie sat calmly on a velvet bench, watching news footage cycle across a muted screen. Amy perched beside her, shoulders tight, fingers knotted together in her lap, while Leo leaned lazily against the window, his reflection half-hidden in the glass, arms crossed over his chest.
"Adrian's already scrubbing the worst clips," Leo drawled, eyes flicking toward Lottie. His voice was laced with amusement, but his fingers tapped a restless rhythm against his arm. "But Evelyn's people are desperate. They'll hit hard, fast, and dirty."
Lottie's gaze remained steady, eyes half-lidded, lashes casting fine shadows across her cheeks. "Let them," she murmured, voice soft but firm. "We've already taken control of the narrative."
Amy shifted beside her, tugging nervously at the hem of her sleeve. "Do you think they'll—"
"They will," Lottie cut in gently, not unkindly, "but it won't matter."
Her phone buzzed again.
Mason: "Tip-off: Evelyn's foresight isn't showing her a clean win. She's panicking."
A faint exhale slipped from Lottie's lips, the ghost of a smile playing there. She tapped the screen lightly, the gentle click of the nail against glass barely audible, but the sound echoed in her mind like a war drum.
Amy's fingers twitched, her foot bouncing lightly against the floor as she murmured, "I've never seen her like this, Lottie. She's… unraveling."
"Good," Lottie murmured softly, the word like a blade slipped between silk.
Across the city, Evelyn paced beneath the brittle glow of her crystal chandelier, the faint clink of glass beads swaying with each sharp movement. Her phone was pressed to her ear, the pale line of her jaw taut, voice low and lethal.
"Find me something," she snapped, eyes blazing. "Anything I can use. I don't care if you have to invent it."
A soft voice on the other end hesitated. "But, Miss Hayes, the footage—"
"Do it!" Evelyn's voice cracked, slicing through the air like a whip. Her free hand shook as she shoved trembling fingers through her hair, the carefully styled waves unraveling at the edges. Her nails scraped briefly against her scalp, sharp enough to sting.
Back at school, the tension deepened. Amy, cheeks still pink from adrenaline, offered Lottie a hesitant smile, lips twitching nervously.
"I guess this means… I'm part of the team now?" she whispered, voice barely above a breath.
Lottie turned, something flickering in her eyes—an echo of warmth, a glimmer of trust hard-earned. Her hand brushed lightly against Amy's sleeve, a fleeting touch, but it steadied Amy's racing pulse.
"You were always part of it," Lottie murmured, voice low.
Outside, the first evening headlines rolled across glowing screens:
"Evelyn Hayes: The Golden Girl's Reign in Question?"
Leo let out a low whistle, stretching his arms behind his head with a lazy smirk. "Well, princess, looks like the world's finally catching up."
Lottie's phone buzzed once more. This time, the message came unsigned.
"The horizon isn't as far as you think. Watch your shadow."
A sharp pulse skipped through her chest, a flicker of ice sliding down her spine, but Lottie only smiled—a small, razor-edged curve of her lips. She felt the electric prickle of anticipation along her skin, a cold clarity settling in her bones.
Amy's breath hitched softly beside her. "What now?"
Lottie's gaze flicked to her, then to Leo, her voice a whisper of steel. "Now we wait."
Behind her, the lights flickered briefly, the storm gathering on the edge of tomorrow.