The library air was dense with expectation, thick enough to choke on. Lottie crouched deeper into the shadows, the cold edge of the bookshelf biting into her palm as her fingers pressed hard against the wood. From across the room, Evelyn's eyes flicked sharply, her lips tightening into a brittle line. A ripple ran through the study tables where Evelyn's entourage clustered, phones clutched tight, thumbs tapping furiously, whispering urgent threads of strategy. The faint glow of their screens cast eerie patterns over their faces, painting them ghostly pale as they huddled, their whispers crackling like static in the heavy hush.
Lottie's heart pounded in her chest, a thudding drumbeat she feared Evelyn could hear across the room. But outside, her face was a mask of quiet patience, a faint smirk playing at the corner of her lips as she watched Evelyn's perfect composure begin to fracture.
Suddenly, Evelyn's breath hitched, shoulders jerking back as if she'd been struck. Lottie felt it—the unmistakable shiver through her bones, the moment Evelyn's Foresight Flash snapped into motion.
Show me what you've got, sister, Lottie thought, the corners of her mouth twitching upward in a grin she barely managed to suppress.
Sliding one foot carefully behind the other, Lottie shifted, her mind sharpening as the Mislead Pulse rose inside her like a coiled snake, thrumming just beneath her skin. She inhaled softly, a thread of cold air filling her lungs, and then—twist.
She pictured herself pushing open the heavy library doors, striding into the hallway, her head held high, footsteps echoing down the marble corridor. She fed that image into the current between them, a deliberate lie woven into the heart of Evelyn's sight. The sensation was electric, like brushing fingertips along a live wire, the Pulse slipping into place with a cool, precise snap that resonated all the way to her teeth.
Across the room, Evelyn's fingers tightened visibly on her phone, her pupils dilating, lips parting slightly as she processed the false vision. Lottie watched with razor focus as Evelyn's brow furrowed, the lines around her mouth deepening, confusion flickering in her eyes like the first crack in flawless glass.
"Where is she?" Evelyn hissed under her breath, just loud enough for her nearest friend to flinch. The girl beside her—a willowy brunette with nervous hands—shrunk back slightly, her gaze darting to the door and then back to Evelyn, throat bobbing as she swallowed.
Leo shifted in his chair, stretching his long legs lazily beneath the table. His eyes darted up for a brief second, meeting Lottie's across the shelves. He gave the barest lift of his brow—a silent question. The soft scrape of his shoe against the polished floor sent a ripple through the quiet, a tiny sound that tugged every nerve in Lottie's body taut.
Lottie pressed her fingers briefly to the side of her temple, a subtle signal. Not yet.
Evelyn straightened sharply, flicking through the notes in her lap, tapping her pen with increasing agitation. Her fingers clenched so tightly the plastic shaft of the pen bent slightly, and the girl beside her winced as the tip snapped with a faint but unmistakable crack.
Lottie let herself slip further into the shadow of the shelf, barely breathing, the air thick with the scent of paper, dust, and Evelyn's unraveling control. Her knees ached slightly where they pressed into the hard floor, the cool bite of the surface seeping through the thin fabric of her tights, but she welcomed the discomfort—it kept her sharp, anchored.
Outside the window, branches scraped softly against the glass, the hush of the night pressing in around them. Lottie felt her pulse slow, her body shifting into stillness as the dance played out, her senses stretched thin as silk, every sound amplified.
Then came the tremor.
It began with Evelyn's hands—the faintest tremble as she clutched her pen too tightly, as though trying to anchor herself against the storm brewing inside her mind. The whispering at the tables grew sharper, glances darting toward Evelyn as unease rippled through her carefully assembled court. One girl bit her lip hard enough to leave a red mark; another tugged at the hem of her sleeve, nails worrying the fabric into loose threads.
A soft scrape of a chair leg—Leo rising, the quiet stretch of his shoulders as he moved toward the shelf nearest Lottie. His voice was low, careless, pitched just above a murmur.
"Hell of a night for a meltdown," he said softly, the words slipping through the air like a knife wrapped in silk.
Evelyn's head whipped around, her gaze sharp as a whip crack, eyes narrowing on Leo's deceptively lazy form. Her nostrils flared slightly, the corners of her mouth twitching as if fighting back a snarl. But Leo merely offered a lazy grin, sliding his hands into his pockets, the picture of innocent amusement.
Lottie's phone vibrated softly against her hip. She slipped it free with practiced ease, thumb brushing across the screen.
Leo:Ready when you are.
Her lips curved in a fleeting smirk as she typed back.
Lottie:She's already breaking.
From across the room, Evelyn's fingers tightened around her phone, white-knuckled now. She muttered something sharp under her breath, shooting to her feet so suddenly her chair scraped harshly against the tile.
The whispered chatter evaporated, tension cutting through the room like a blade.
Lottie watched, breath shallow, the delicious edge of victory coiling tight in her chest. She stepped lightly back, retreating deeper into the maze of shelves, the soft brush of her shoes muffled by the thick carpet runner. The scent of old books clung to the air, dry and papery, mingling with the faint metallic tang of adrenaline at the back of her throat.
Outside the window, the wind picked up, rattling the panes, and in that moment Evelyn's shoulders stiffened. Her head snapped toward the door—the one Lottie was supposed to have exited through minutes ago.
Her plan, her vision, her flawless stage—collapsing.
The muscles in Lottie's thighs quivered with the tension of holding so still, the chill of the library air raising goosebumps along her arms. She pressed her back to the shelf, feeling the slight sway of the wooden frame under her weight, the faint vibration of Leo's quiet footsteps brushing the edge of her awareness.
Her phone buzzed again. A new message blinked across the screen.
Unknown:Nice move. But it's not over.
Her heart leapt, a sharp spike of adrenaline slicing through her calm. The air felt suddenly thinner, the shadows around her sharper.
She pocketed the phone, eyes narrowing as she peered between the shelves. Evelyn stood frozen at the center of the room, her gaze darting back and forth like an animal caught between fight and flight. Leo leaned casually against a table, his lips twitching in faint amusement, his gaze flicking once toward Lottie's hidden corner.
Lottie inhaled deeply, letting the rush of victory flood her veins, but beneath it, something coiled tighter. The unknown message—it was a warning, a challenge, and the game was far from over.
Sliding a hand along the edge of the shelf, she traced the cool grain of the wood, grounding herself. The Mislead Pulse hummed faintly in her blood, still sharp, still ready. She'd played her hand well tonight—but she knew Evelyn, knew the venom coiled behind that fragile mask, and she knew the next strike would be swift.
Outside, the hallway lay hushed and waiting. Lottie stepped lightly into its embrace, the cool air brushing her cheeks like a ghost's breath. Her heart drummed fast, alive with triumph and tension alike. The faint creak of the library door whispered shut behind her, a soft exhale of wood and brass.
Behind her, Evelyn's furious voice crackled through the stillness, sharp and raw: "Find her."
A slow smile curved Lottie's lips as she slid into the darkness, her pulse thrumming with exhilaration.
Her fingers brushed briefly against the cold stone wall as she passed, the rough texture grounding her as she slipped through the shadowed corridor. The faint scent of floor polish and paper hung in the air, and somewhere distant, the echo of a closing door rang hollow through the halls. Her skin prickled with the awareness that the game had shifted, that every step was now a beat in the unfolding dance.
Inside the library, Evelyn paced like a trapped animal, sharp heels clicking against the tile, her breath coming faster now, shallow and clipped. One of her friends tried to speak, but Evelyn's hand shot up, a sharp, silencing gesture that made the girl flinch and snap her mouth shut.
Leo watched the scene unfold, the lazy arch of his brow masking the sharp glint in his eyes. He folded his arms across his chest, fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm against his bicep, his body language a study in casual provocation.
Outside, Lottie paused beneath the tall window, the moonlight slicing pale lines across the floor, painting her skin in silver. She tilted her head back, eyes half-lidded as she drew in a long breath, the cool night air tasting faintly of rain and stone. The weight in her chest eased slightly, replaced by a fierce, humming satisfaction.
But even in that moment of triumph, her mind whirred, calculating. She could feel the threads tightening, the next move coiling in the dark.
Inside, Evelyn's voice rose again, sharp as a whipcrack.
"Check the halls. Now."
The words rang out, brittle with fury, and Lottie felt her smile widen, the thrill of the hunt sparking under her skin.
Her fingers flexed at her sides, nails grazing her palm as she turned, footsteps light and sure on the cold tile.
Let the hunt begin.