It started small, but it was enough to keep me on edge. A book missing from my locker. My phone buzzing with unknown numbers that hung up as soon as I answered. At first, I told myself it was just a coincidence. But then it escalated.
I stood in front of my locker, frozen, staring at the deep, jagged scratches carved into the metal. Words that made my stomach churn: “Stay away.” The letters were rough, angry, like someone had gouged them with a knife.
My hands shook as I opened the locker. My books were thrown around, some with pages torn, and my bag had been slashed open. Whoever had done this wanted to send a message, and I was terrified that it was just the beginning.
I spun around, scanning the hallway. Students walked past me, laughing, talking, acting like everything was normal. But someone among them knew. Someone was watching me.
By the time lunch rolled around, I was a bundle of nerves. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being followed, even in the crowded cafeteria. I kept glancing over my shoulder, scanning every face, every movement.
That’s when Grayson appeared, sliding into the seat across from me. He looked calm, almost bored, as he set his tray down. But the intensity in his eyes made my heart skip.
“Why are you sitting here?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
He leaned back, folding his arms. “Because you look like you’re about to lose it. And I figured you might need someone to talk you down before you start screaming in the middle of the cafeteria.”
I glared at him. “If I’m losing it, it’s because of you and your family. Do you know what someone did to my locker today? They destroyed it. And my tires—someone slashed them this morning. I know this is connected to all of you.”
Grayson’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “You’re paranoid.”
I slammed my hands on the table, ignoring the startled looks from the people around us. “Don’t you dare act like I’m making this up. I’m not stupid, Grayson. Someone is targeting me, and it started the moment I got involved with you and your brothers.”
He leaned forward, his voice low and sharp. “Then stop digging.”
I blinked, caught off guard by his sudden change in tone. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “Stop digging. Stop asking questions. If you dig too deep, you won’t like what you find.”
My stomach twisted. “Is that a warning?”
“It’s advice,” he said simply, standing and grabbing his tray. “Take it or leave it. But if I were you, I’d leave it.”
And with that, he walked away, leaving me sitting there, shaking with frustration and fear.
That night, I sat on my bed, trying to calm my nerves. I had spent the afternoon replaying Grayson’s words over and over in my mind. Was he trying to protect me? Or was he warning me because he knew something was about to happen?
A knock at the window made me jump. My heart raced as I whipped around, half expecting to see another shadowy figure lurking outside. But it was just the wind, the tree branches tapping against the glass.
“Get a grip, Lila,” I muttered to myself, rubbing my temples.
I reached for my bag, determined to focus on homework instead of spiraling into paranoia. But when I opened it, something fell out—a folded piece of paper, slightly crumpled.
My stomach dropped as I picked it up, my hands trembling.
Unfolding the note, I froze. It was another message, just like the others, but this one was worse.
A torn photograph had been tucked inside, faded and frayed around the edges. It showed Evelyn, smiling brightly, with Grayson standing next to her. They looked happy, like a perfect couple. But her face had been scratched out, leaving only Grayson’s expression visible—cold, detached, and haunting.
Scrawled in bold, messy handwriting across the back of the photo were the words: “Do you want to end up like her?”
I stared at the note, my heart pounding so loudly I could barely hear myself think. My breath came in short, shallow gasps as I dropped the paper and stumbled back onto my bed.