The group has overstayed their welcome at the breakfast table. Zoey insists she will only break the bad news once the cafeteria is empty, claiming it’s a top-secret matter. Though it’s frustrating that Annie isn’t answering their texts, they’re sure she’s deliberately ghosting them. Yet, Laura argues they should just wait until she calms down.

  Silence settles heavily over the table. Their eyes occasionally meet or land briefly on their empty plates, dodging every attempt from the cafeteria workers or the passing nuns who try to shoo them out. Their excuse is solid: they have a friend going through a hard time.

  Well, they aren’t lying.

  Armani rests his face in his palm, his hair a bird’s nest. He looks drained, his eyelids heavy. A cup of lukewarm coffee sits in front of him, flanked by a side of cookies a random girl dropped off minutes ago. He doesn’t recognize her, but despite the judging looks from his friends, he didn’t turn the offering down. It wasn't a lack of loyalty to Annie; his head was too foggy for anything more than a weak smile and a nod. Even if he had the energy, he’d never turn down gifts from his fangirls. (He calls any girl who shows a slight interest in him his fangirl.)

  Laura coughs, breaking Zoey’s glaring trance. She clears her throat. "Did you talk to Annie this morning?"

  Without raising his head, Armani knows she’s talking to him. He mumbles a quiet no.

  "Anyone else talked to Annie since yesterday?" Laura’s eyes roam the table. "No one?"

  Jaiden rubs the back of his neck, guilt written across his face. "I mean… she seemed a bit too angry. I wonder who made her that mad."

  His gaze slides to his best friend. Armani meets his gaze instantly, knowing for damn sure he’s being silently blamed for his girlfriend’s sudden change in attitude.

  "I dunno," Armani mutters, finally raising his head to take a sluggish sip of coffee.

  "Then who else would know?" A tinge of anger tugs at Laura’s tone.

  Silence touches the table again. Lips remain sealed as accusations and assumptions fly back and forth in the quiet, yet none are vocalized.

  Zoey argues, "This is really bad. We're in deep shit and you guys are fucking around while our lives are on the line. And you…" Her eyes lock onto Armani’s. "You should wake the fuck up."

  "Just spit it out already," Armani sighs, his head dropping back into his palm.

  Jaiden turns to him, brow furrowed. "Bro, are you high?"

  "I had a line of coke yesterday, or two. But I’m clear now."

  Laura nudges him, her voice a hushed shout. "Why didn’t you tell me? You know how I’m dying for some in here!"

  Zoey exhales sharply. "I hate working with you. I hate every single one of you. You never take me seriously!"

  "Just tell me, honey," Armani says. "I’m taking you seriously."

  "Oh, come on, look at you. You’re high as fuck. I bet you won’t remember a word I say!"

  Armani smirks. "I think better when I’m wired. Right, Jay?"

  Jaiden shakes his head.

  Armani clicks his tongue against his teeth. "Anyway..."

  Zoey takes a long, shaky breath before dropping the bomb. "A vessel was stolen from my closet."

  The air vanishes from the room. Hearts sink; breaths hitch.

  "Stolen?" Laura repeats the word slowly, the sound strange on her ears.

  "Yes, stolen. I didn’t lose it. I didn’t break it. Someone went into my room, took it, and left." Zoey has her eyes glued to the table. When she finally looks up, she’s met with a row of pale, ghost-like faces.

  "You’re sure it was stolen?" Jaiden’s voice is paper-thin. He’s watching her closely, bracing for an explosion. "Not like it just fell somewhere?"

  "No, Jaiden. It was stolen." Zoey’s suppressed irritation spills through her words. "I’ve searched everywhere. It’s not in my room. And I have evidence."

  She slides her phone across the table. On the screen is a photo of a single, muddy footprint stamped into her carpet. Laura recoils, her face blanching. Jaiden’s expression clouds with genuine fear. Armani, however, remains calm. It isn’t the lingering high—it’s because he’s seeing something the others are missing. He straightens his back and inhales audibly.

  "When was it stolen?" he asks.

  "Two days ago. After dinner," Zoey replies instantly.

  Armani pauses, calculating. "You got here Sunday night, right? Same as the rest of us?"

  Zoey looks to Laura and Jaiden for confirmation. She nods.

  "So," Armani hums, "on Monday night, a vessel went missing."

  Laura points at the screen. "Are there more footprints? To show where they walked?"

  "That’s the thing," Zoey says. "There’s only one. I looked everywhere, but there is no another mark on the floor."

  "Maybe they wiped the others away before they left?" Jaiden suggests, though it sounds more like a dubious guess.

  "And leave just one behind?" Laura comments. "That’s so stupid."

  Armani hasn’t taken his eyes off Zoey. "And you’re saying you only noticed it was gone after dinner?"

  Zoey frowns at the line of questioning. "Yeah."

  "Which means all vessels were there before dinner?"

  Zoey gulps. "They’re right in front of my face every time I open the closet. So, yeah, I’m positive. Even when Laura and Annie came to my room, there were—”

  "Wait." Laura interrupts with a wounded gasp. "Are you saying we took it? That we’re thieves?"

  "No one said that," Jaiden says quickly. "Chill, Laur."

  Armani presses on, ignoring the friction. "You’re sure there were five when Annie and Laura left your room?"

  Zoey glances at Laura’s burning expression. "Yes. But before we left, the carpet was clean. Which means whoever took it came in after the three of us walked out."

  Jaiden turns to Laura. "See? No one is blaming you. Jesus!"

  Laura exhales and looks away, her jaw tight. "Anyway, we’re late for class. We’ll get in trouble if we stay here any longer."

  "I'm not going to class," Armani announces. "Not until I figure out our next move."

  "We're not responsible for anyone’s recklessness," Laura snaps.

  Zoey glares. "I’m not reckless."

  "Guys, chill," Jaiden pleads. "No one is being reckless."

  Zoey’s shoulders square. "What am I even doing? I knew no one would—"

  "No one would believe you?" Armani finishes for her. He drains the last sip of his lukewarm coffee. "It’s all crystal clear now."

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  The table goes silent. The only sound is the hollow thud of Armani’s paper cup hitting the wood. His hand squeezes the cheap material, an assertive test of strength.

  "Someone failed to take me out," Armani recounts. "So they moved to Zoey—who would rather take the blame than overexplain herself."

  He spins the cup slowly, staring at the elegant Saint Philips logo. "They’ll kill the scapegoat and make it look like a suicide. Everyone will assume she cracked, and couldn’t handle the drama."

  He pauses for a few seconds, long enough to make their brains race.

  "Let’s just say that if one gets taken out…" He looks up, meeting their blank stares. "Others will follow."

  "Hold on." Laura’s brows knit together. "Are you seriously still on that bullshit? That one of us is trying to kill the others?"

  "Who else knows we’re hiding a virus in Zoey’s room?" Armani counters.

  Jaiden begins to mumble, almost as if he’s talking to himself. "If you’re the one who got shot, and Zoey is the one being framed... then it’s either me, or Laura, or Annie..."

  Laura sighs, her frustration hitting a breaking point. "Look, I’m not saying there isn't a threat out there. But it can’t be one of us. You can’t just accuse your friends of being killers!"

  Zoey’s eyes dart between the three of them. "Isn’t that why we’re playing that stupid game anyway?"

  Before another word can be exchanged, a wandering nun enters the cafeteria, her voice shaking the ground. She orders them to move it and get to class, forcing the group to jolt upright and scramble. The woman, fierce and stout, watches them hustle toward her.

  "Ugh," Zoey grumbles under her breath. "What are we supposed to do now?"

  "We’ll figure it out after lunch," Jaiden whispers back.

  Laura looks at them over her shoulder, her voice a shushed hiss. "I told you we were going to get in trouble!"

  "All good. I got this," Armani says.

  The four of them filter out of the cafeteria, heading toward the main school building. They glance back, catching the nun’s menacing scowl. The group quickens their pace until they’ve put enough distance between them to feel safe.

  Armani’s quick feet come to a stop, his hands slide deep into his pockets. The others spin around to face him.

  "I’m heading back to the dorm," he says. "I’ve got something to take care of."

  "Don’t tell me you’re doing a line again." Jaiden raises a suspicious eyebrow.

  Armani chuckles. "I told you I think better when I’m high."

  Laura takes a threatening step toward him, her eyes narrowing. "Are you for real right now?"

  Armani raises his hands defensively. "Chill. I’m just gonna go ask around about a few things."

  Zoey squints at him, trying to read his face. Whatever he’s doing, it seems deliberate to her.

  Laura sighs, heading back toward the school building. "Whatever. Do your thing, just don't ghost us like Annie."

  "Speaking of Annie…" Armani’s smile fades. His tone turns cold. "Where’s she?"

  Laura shrugs without turning to him. "I don't know. Call her."

  He nods slowly, taking a few steps backward. "Cool."

  "See you at lunch!" Jaiden calls out, already walking. Catching a glimpse of something that might be another nun in the distance, he urges Zoey to hurry.

  The group splinters inside the enormous building, each heading for their class. Halfway down the hall, Zoey slows down. She turns back toward the entrance and watches Armani through one of the tall glass windows. He’s walking away, but instead of taking the path that leads to the boys' dorms, he makes a sharp, deliberate turn in the opposite direction.

  She remains unfazed. For the first time in days, she lets herself breathe deeper.

  "Hey."

  The sound rings so sharply Zoey nearly jumps out of her skin. She spins around to find Laura standing a few inches away, wearing a tiny smile that doesn’t reach her ears.

  "Make sure you put your phone on airplane mode before you get to class," Laura’s voice is surprisingly soft. "You’ll be in deep shit if a teacher suspects you’re hiding it in your coat pocket."

  She turns to leave without waiting for a reply. The rhythmic clicking of her heels against the porcelain tiles echoes through the eerily cold, empty hallway.

  Annie tiptoes through the back garden, playing a silent game of hide-and-seek with the nuns and gardeners. Her destination is the massive oak tree, where Vincent is already sitting, his back to the trunk, facing the vast sea of flowerbeds.

  "Oh, you came? I thought you wouldn't," Vincent says, beaming as she emerges from behind the thick wood.

  She plops down next to him, her body stiff, her eyes darting everywhere. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her knees, a desperate attempt to find comfort. Her skirt feels uncomfortably tight in this very moment.

  "You seemed anxious at breakfast," his voice is a mellow tone. "You didn't eat properly. You can talk about it, you know. I'm all ears."

  Annie looks around. No one is in sight, yet her heart won't settle. A tornado of thoughts rips through her mind, draining all emotions, and leaving her body even more rigid.

  Vincent shifts closer, leaving a sliver of space between them. He can hear her shaky, turbulent breath. Her hands are balled into fists on her knees, her knuckles white. Her straight brown hair trembles slightly with her unease.

  "Annie?"

  Her head snaps to face him. Her skin is pale. Up close, he can see the dark circles under her eyes.

  "Something's on your mind?" he slides an arm behind her, a one-sided hug without their bodies touching.

  She nods, her gaze averting.

  "The fact that you came to meet me means you want to talk about it, right?" His voice is a honeyed whisper. "Whether you chose me to vent to or you have no one else to talk to, I'm here."

  "I... there..." The words catch in her throat. The swirl of thoughts paralyzes her tongue, leaving her mind numb and empty. How can she explain that she's a fraud, a foe working against his family? How can she tell him that she's the reason his family lost millions of dollars? Her breathing becomes louder, more disturbed, the more she looks into his concerned brown eyes. She can already see the softness in his features twisting into a mask of anger. Or worse, he might hate her. The most painful part is that he's offering her grace she doesn’t deserve, so unaware that she is his worst enemy. But it’s not her fault, is it? She was dragged into this by Armani. It's all his fault. Her foster mother always said she couldn't trust him.

  Vincent's warm hand settles gently on her cheek; his touch is so comforting that it melts away her frantic thoughts. "Annie, look into my eyes," he utters. "I hope you don't mind me touching you for a couple of seconds."

  Her breath catches as her eyes lock with his. She sees safety, compassion, and kindness staring back at her. Her gaze softens and her breath returns. Maybe it's his pleasantly reassuring hold, the softness of his palm, or just his gentle presence. Her fear begins to recede.

  "Close your eyes for a moment," he whispers.

  She obeys, feeling his breath, cold and comforting, on her burning face.

  "Take a deep breath. Hold it. Release it slowly through your mouth."

  She follows his instructions, word for word.

  "Let's do it one more time together," he says, his voice a steady guide. "Take a deep breath through your nose. Hold it." He pauses, then adds, "Release it slowly through your mouth."

  Her head feels heavy. She follows his lead, her eyelids growing heavier.

  His thumb gently rubs her cheek. "Let’s do it one more time but this time make it deeper."

  She does it. Her head leans against her hand. Her body goes limp, her knees resting over his legs. Her mind goes blissfully quiet for the first time since yesterday.

  "Do you feel dizzy?" he says softly. She doesn't answer, but her steady breathing is enough. "You can rest for a moment."

  He gently guides her head to rest on his shoulder. An arm wraps around her, offering support. His other hand returns to her face. She feels fingertips lightly threading through her hair, delicate knuckles brushing the side of her pink cheek.

  He traces a gentle line down her neck. "How do you feel now?" his eyes trace the relaxed muscles of her face.

  "Good," she whispers back, her voice weak. In fact, she has never felt better. His tenderness is a magnet, pulling her closer. He is arousing an emotion she doesn't know, a feeling she never knew she wanted.

  She feels his hand slowly crawling back up to her face, his thumb caressing her cheek one more time. Her eyes flutter open. Her hand reaches up and touches his. He is staring deep into her eyes. His face gets closer, closer, until there is no space left between them. His lips press softly against hers, a fleeting touch that doesn't linger for too long. He moves back, watching her dumbfounded face. She pulls herself up, her breath suddenly shaky again.

  He gulps, pulling his arms back to his sides. "You don't have to do anything about that. I was just…" He gasps for air. "I was just greedy. I wanted to kiss the girl I like. Sorry for that, I mean... if you didn’t like it."

  She presses her lips together for a moment. "Do you like me?"

  "I thought Chloe told you already."

  "Why?"

  He tilts his head. "Why do I like you?" She nods. His lips curve into a weak smile. "Why wouldn't I like you?"

  She ducks her head. "I don't know. I'm not pretty. I'm flat-chested. And you, you're..."

  He places a hand beneath her chin and lifts her head until their eyes meet. "You're beautiful. I love you just the way you are."

  Annie hesitates. "No. But there are other pretty girls."

  "Annie, please, don't say that." He turns his body fully to face her, reaching for her hands and holding them gently. "You have the cutest smile I have ever seen. You're just... adorable.”

  A blush creeps up her cheeks. The corners of her mouth twitch. "Really?"

  He smiles. "Really."

  Her lips stretch into a beam, a warm flush spreading all over her body. She can finally name this feeling: being loved. It makes the inside of her chest feel wide and fuzzy. Yet, it leaves her desperate for more.

  She moves closer, pointing to his shoulder. "Can I...?"

  He grins and opens his arms. "Come."

  She rests her head back on his shoulder, and his arm wraps around her. This time, her arms circle his waist, and he leans back against the tree trunk. His other hand goes back to her face.

  "Do you like this?" he murmurs.

  She hums in response. She looks up to meet his sweet gaze with a shy smile. "Vincent, I love you."

  He leans down and kisses her again, and this time, she kisses him back.