The next morning came too quickly, and with it, the weight of the night's revelations crushed down on Elian's chest like a boulder. He hadn't slept — not even for a minute. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Sophie's tear-streaked face, heard her broken whispers, and felt the invisible threat looming closer over them both.
Elian sat at the edge of his worn-out bed, the tiny dorm room feeling even smaller now, suffocating. His uniform, the same dull gray and white that every student at Eastwood High wore, hung limply off his frame. He stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror above his desk — dark circles under his eyes, his hair a mess, the boy who used to believe things would get better now looking like a ghost of himself.
His phone vibrated silently on the desk, pulling him from his haze.
It was a message from an unknown number:
"One step closer and you're next."
Elian's hands tightened into fists. Fear coiled in his stomach like a living thing, but behind it, something stronger sparked — anger.
Who were they to threaten him? Who were they to terrify Sophie?
He pocketed his phone, shoved on his blazer, and forced himself out of the room.
The halls of Eastwood High were already buzzing with students. Groups of girls in matching skirts and flawless makeup giggled near the lockers. Boys in expensive sneakers and cocky smiles showed off flashy gadgets. No one noticed Elian weaving through them — just another invisible shadow.
"Hey loser! Still breathing, huh?" sneered Jason Blackwood, the senior who seemed to have made tormenting Elian a personal hobby. His gang of friends laughed loudly, high-fiving each other like they'd just won a trophy.
Elian didn't even flinch. After everything he'd endured — the insults, the beatings, the public humiliations — their words were nothing more than static now.
But Sophie… Sophie had entered his life like a spark in the dark, and now that spark was being hunted.
"Elian!" a familiar voice called from behind.
It was Mia Park, one of the few students who occasionally treated him like a human being. She was short, with bright purple hair tied into messy twin buns, freckles sprinkled across her pale cheeks, and an oversized hoodie that practically swallowed her petite frame. She had a camera slung around her neck — always documenting the chaos of Eastwood High.
"You look like hell," she said bluntly, falling into step beside him.
"Feel like it too," Elian muttered, avoiding her gaze.
They walked down the hallway together, the noise of the students fading behind them.
"I heard about Sophie," Mia said after a moment, lowering her voice. "There's talk... whispers that she's mixed up with the Crimson Circle."
Elian stopped dead in his tracks.
"The Crimson Circle?" His voice was barely a whisper.
Mia nodded grimly. "It's bad, Elian. Real bad. They're not just some high school gang. They're connected. Politicians, billionaires, dirty cops. If Sophie's caught their attention..." She shivered. "You need to stay far away."
Elian's hands trembled, but he clenched them at his sides.
"I can't," he said simply.
Mia sighed, pushing open the door to the back courtyard where a few students were already smoking behind the teachers' backs. The sky was a murky gray, the trees bare and skeletal against the wind.
"You're crazy," she muttered. "But... I get it."
They stood there for a long moment, the wind whipping through the courtyard.
Suddenly, Mia grabbed Elian's wrist, pulling him close.
"Listen carefully," she hissed. "Tonight. At the abandoned metro station. Sophie's going to meet someone. I overheard two seniors talking about it. They said it's a setup."
Elian's heart seized.
"Who's setting her up?"
Mia shook her head. "I don't know. But if you want to help her... that's where you need to be."
Before Elian could respond, Mia pushed a crumpled piece of paper into his hand and disappeared back into the school, melting into the crowd like she was never there.
Elian unfolded the paper. It was an address — scratched hurriedly in purple ink.
He didn't even think. He knew what he had to do.
Later that night, after the sun fell and Eastwood High emptied into the dark streets like an overflowing river, Elian found himself crouched behind a crumbling wall near the abandoned metro station.
The place was straight out of a nightmare: broken tiles, shattered glass, rusted metal beams that groaned with the wind. Shadows moved like living things. The smell of rot and old oil filled the air.
Elian's heart pounded so loudly he was sure they'd hear him.
He spotted Sophie almost immediately. She stood alone under a flickering streetlamp, her face pale, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Then, from the shadows, three men appeared.
Elian tensed. They weren't students. They were much older — late twenties, early thirties — with cold eyes and tattoos that twisted up their necks.
One of them spoke, his voice low and threatening.
"You thought you could run, sweetheart? You thought you could hide?"
Sophie didn't answer. She just stood there, trembling.
Elian's fists clenched. His mind screamed at him to run, to hide, to stay safe.
But his heart — the heart that had been beaten, broken, humiliated a thousand times before — said no.
Not this time.
He stepped out of the shadows.
"Leave her alone," he said, his voice stronger than he felt.
The men turned toward him, surprised.
One of them laughed — a cruel, barking sound.
"And who the hell are you, kid?"
Elian swallowed hard. Every instinct in his body told him he was making a mistake.
But he took another step forward anyway.
"I'm the guy who's not going to let you hurt her."
The men exchanged glances, amused. Like predators toying with a mouse.
The tallest one, with a jagged scar across his cheek, stepped closer.
"You've got guts," he said. "Too bad you won't have them for long."
Elian braced himself.
Whatever happened next... he wasn't running anymore.
Not for them.
Not for anyone.
---