The classroom was unnervingly quiet, the kind of quiet that made every scratch of a pen sound like thunder. Tom's eyes flicked to the corners, scanning for anything out of place. Everyone thought he was daydreaming, but inside, his mind was racing.
Mr. Abani's voice cut through the silence. "Tom, answer this question."
Tom looked up, calm as ever, and replied without hesitation. His voice was steady, precise. A few students murmured in surprise, but Tom barely registered it. His attention was fixed elsewhere—on Catar's message from earlier.
Someone is out to get us.
Catar sat a few rows ahead, his shoulders stiff. He glanced nervously at Cutz, who was twisting his pen like it was a lifeline.
"That pig head… the call," Catar whispered, eyes darting around the room. "This isn't just a prank. Someone's watching us."
Cutz swallowed hard. "You really think it's them?"
Catar nodded slowly. "I don't know… but whoever it is, they're smart. Too smart. And dangerous."
Tom's phone buzzed in his pocket.
Unknown number.
He read the message once.
Tonight. Roof. Alone.
A chill crept down his spine. This wasn't a joke. Someone wanted a confrontation. And they weren't giving him a choice.
The bell rang, breaking the tension. Students poured into the hallway, laughing and shouting, oblivious. Tom stayed behind, pretending to tie his shoes, his heart pounding. Catar and Cutz exchanged a look—fear mixed with resolve, the silent understanding that whatever was coming, they were already trapped in it.
Tom straightened.
Tonight, he would go to the roof.
Unseen, a shadow lingered, watching, waiting.
By the time Tom returned to the school, the sun had disappeared. Darkness wrapped the building, and the wind whispered through empty corridors, carrying an eerie chill. He climbed the stairwell silently, every step measured, his eyes scanning for movement. He didn't want to be seen—not yet.
The rooftop door creaked as he pushed it open just enough to slip through. Moonlight washed the concrete in pale silver, but it wasn't enough to reveal him. He stayed low, blending into the shadows.
On the far side of the roof, a figure moved.
Tall. Deliberate. Menacing.
They knelt and placed several items on the ground: a small device, a coil of rope, and a folded note. Tom crouched lower, unseen.
"You shouldn't have ignored the warnings," the figure muttered, their voice cold.
Moments later, Catar and Cutz emerged cautiously from the stairwell, unaware that Tom was already there.
"Are you sure this is safe?" Catar whispered.
Cutz shook his head. "I don't like this… something feels off."
The shadowy figure laughed softly, a sound that made the hairs on Tom's neck rise. They stepped back, leaving the note behind, then retreated toward the edge of the roof and disappeared into the darkness.
Tom watched carefully. He saw every movement, every gesture—but he never saw their face.
Catar picked up the note. "It says… Next time, you won't be so lucky."
Cutz shivered. "Who even leaves notes like this?"
Tom stayed hidden, his heart pounding. Tonight had confirmed his fears. Whoever was behind this wasn't careless.
He waited until Catar and Cutz returned to the stairwell, their footsteps fading into the building. Only then did he move.
Careful not to make a sound, Tom slipped down the fire escape and followed the path the figure had taken. He kept to alleys and side streets, letting the night conceal him.
Ahead, the figure moved with purpose, a small black bag hanging at their side. They didn't notice Tom following—just as he intended. Every so often, they glanced over their shoulder, as if sensing danger, but never close enough to see him.
This wasn't random. The way the figure avoided main roads, the precision of their movements—it all pointed to someone organized and calculating.
They finally stopped outside an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. The figure crouched, inspected the entrance, then pulled a key from the bag and unlocked the rusted door.
Tom ducked behind a dumpster, holding his breath.
He had a choice: confront them now and risk exposure, or observe and gather information. Instinct told him patience was smarter.
Through a crack in the warehouse wall, he watched the figure slip inside.
A shadow shifted.
Then another appeared.
Taller. Broader. Familiar.
Tom's blood ran cold.
This wasn't just a threat from a stranger. Someone he knew was involved.
He pulled back silently. Answers would come later.
His phone vibrated.
Lucy.
Where are you?
On my way, he replied.
Lucy was waiting outside her building when he arrived. "You're late," she said, smiling. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," Tom said. "I'm fine."
She had no idea what was happening—and he planned to keep it that way.
As Lucy turned toward the door, Tom activated his tech abilities. Invisible signals rippled outward, scanning the entire area. Buildings. Cars. Rooftops.
Nothing.
No threat.
He relaxed slightly. "Everything's okay," he said. "Let's go inside."
That's when laughter echoed across the street.
Catar and his gang were heading toward the basketball court. When Catar saw Lucy, he slowed.
"Hey," he said smoothly. "You should come to my party this weekend."
Lucy hesitated.
Catar's friends closed in around Tom, blocking his path.
"Oh," Catar added, smirking. "Did I say something wrong, Lucy? I mean… why are you with this joke who couldn't even save his friend from those rapists?"
Tom felt anger surge—but he stopped himself.
Lucy stared at Catar, disgusted.
Tom turned and walked away with her.
Behind them, Catar's phone buzzed.
Unknown number:You're being watched.
Catar spun around.
Tom didn't.
He vanished into the night