Evan's POV
I scan the cafeteria for the third time, searching for Lena's familiar silhouette, the way she hunches over her lunch tray, the dark hair she tucks behind her ear when she's reading.
She's not here. She wasn't in first period either, or third, and I haven't spotted her once in the hallways between classes. The absence sits wrong in my chest, makes my skin prickle with unease.
I pull out my phone and dial her number, pressing it to my ear as I move toward the exit.
It rings once, twice, then goes straight to a mechanical voice telling me the number is unavailable.
I try again with the same result. Phone off, or blocked, or dead battery. None of the options make me feel better.
I'm about to push through the cafeteria doors when I notice it—the shift in energy. It's subtle at first, just a few heads turning my direction, whispers that stop when I get too close.
But then I catch more stares, see people huddled over phones, hear fragments of conversations that die the moment they realize I'm listening.
My stomach drops.
Someone grabs my arm from behind, and I spin around to find Marcus pulling me toward the corner by the vending machines, away from the main flow of students.
His expression is serious, concerned, nothing like his usual easy grin.
"Dude," he says, his voice low and urgent. "There's a rumor going around about your brother and Lena Hart."
My heart skips a beat, then starts hammering double-time. "What kind of rumor?" I ask, but I'm already dreading the answer, already piecing together why Lena isn't here, why my phone calls aren't going through.
Marcus pulls out his phone and shows me the screen. It's a photo—grainy but clear enough—of the three of us in the library yesterday.
Lena's on her tiptoes, kissing Noah's cheek, while I stand close enough that the angle makes it look intimate, deliberate, like we're all in on something together.
The caption underneath makes my blood run cold: "Guess we know how Hart's paying for college now."
"What the hell!" The words explode out of me before I can stop them, loud enough that a few people nearby turn to stare. I lower my voice, forcing it steady even though rage is building in my chest.
“What are they saying?"
"They're calling her a slut," Marcus says bluntly, and I watch him wince at his own words. "Saying she's sleeping with both of you for money. That you and Noah are paying her. It's all over the school page, man. Everyone's talking about it."
The cafeteria suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. I need to find Noah. I need to find Lena. I need to find whoever started this and make them take it back.
"I have to go," I say, already moving away from Marcus.
"Evan—" he starts, but I'm already pushing through the crowd, ignoring the stares and whispers, heading straight for the locker room where Noah said he'd be during lunch.
I find him sitting on the bench in front of his locker, scrolling through his phone with an expression that tells me he hasn't seen it yet. That changes the second he looks up and sees my face.
"What's wrong?" he asks, standing immediately.
I don't waste time with preamble. "There's a rumor spreading about you, me, and Lena. Someone took a picture of us at the library yesterday and they're saying—" I stop, trying to find words that won't make this worse. "They're saying she's a slut. That she's getting money from us. From both of us."
Noah's jaw clenches so hard I can see the muscle jump, and his hands ball into fists at his sides.
"Who the hell is spreading this?" His voice is low and dangerous, the kind of quiet that comes before an explosion. "Who would do this to her?"
The answer clicks into place with sudden, obvious clarity.
"Trent," I say, and I know I'm right even before I finish the thought. "Trent saw us at the library with her yesterday, remember? Right before she ran out. It's Trent."
"That jerk!" Noah's voice rises, echoing off the metal lockers. He's already moving toward the door, intent clear in every line of his body. "I'm going to kill him. I'm going to find him and—"
I step in front of him, blocking his path with both hands on his chest. "Noah, stop. You need to keep your cool here."
"Get out of my way, Evan." His eyes are blazing, and I can feel the tension in him, coiled and ready to snap.
"Listen to me," I say, keeping my voice firm. "Lena is at the center of all of this. Everyone is talking about her right now. If you go after Trent, if you make a scene, it's only going to make things worse for her. Any little mistake we make will hurt her more than it hurts us. Do you understand?"
Noah's breathing is harsh, but I see some of the fight drain out of him as my words sink in.
"She's already getting destroyed by this," I continue. "If they're saying this about her, calling her those things, spreading this around school, she's going to be completely destroyed. We need to think before we act."
"They're making her look like a—" Noah can't finish the sentence, disgust and fury choking off his words. "And us like entitled rich kids who think we can buy anything. Buy anyone."
"I know," I say, and the truth of it sits like lead in my stomach. The rumor isn't completely false, which makes it so much worse. We did pay her.
We were in that hotel room. But the context, the reasons, the feelings behind it—none of that matters in a high school rumor mill. All anyone sees is the salacious surface, the scandalous headline.
"So what are we supposed to do?" Noah asks, and there's helplessness under the anger now. "Just let them say whatever they want about her? Let Trent win?"
"No," I say, and I feel my own anger crystallizing into something colder, more focused. "But you had a fight with him before. People remember that. If you go after him again, it looks like aggression. It looks like you're trying to silence him, which will just make people believe the rumor more." I drop my hands from his chest and step back. "This time, I'll do it."
Noah's eyes narrow. "Evan—"
"I haven't touched him yet," I say, cutting him off. "I'm the charming one, remember? The one who smiles instead of throws punches. Let me handle Trent. You go find Lena, make sure she's okay." I don't wait for his response. I brush past him toward the door, determination settling over me like armor. "I'm going to find Trent, and I'm going to make him fix this."
Behind me, I hear Noah call my name, but I'm already gone, moving through the hallway with singular purpose.
Trent Lawson picked the wrong girl to mess with. And he's about to find out exactly what happens when you come after someone a Mercer actually cares about.