The school courtyard buzzed with dismissal chaos—kids running, backpacks swinging, voices too loud, sneakers squeaking sharp against the pavement, chalk dust lifting in the coastal breeze and scratching Camille’s throat. Her chest felt locked, heart slamming hard, uneven, jagged. Lucas’s recording wouldn’t stop replaying in her head— Ellie’s my revenge—burning straight through her skull, louder than the crowd. And then that text— He’s coming tomorrow. Over and over. Her stomach flipped, her palms stuck to the cold metal of the gate like glue. The chalk sting clogged her nose, her eyes hot, stinging. The squeaky sneakers kept ringing in her ears like some trap snapping shut, ready to close.

Ellie...