01

Missy's point of View

The bus wheezed to a stop at the edge of Bellwick University, and Missy Rivera sat still for a moment, staring out the window.

It was finally here. Her first day. A new chapter.

She clutched the handle of her duffel bag, heart rattling with nerves and hope and a pinch of fear.

The other students poured out before her, all confidence and laughter. She stepped off last, sneakers hitting the sidewalk with a soft thud.

The campus stretched before her like a scene from a movie tall ivy-covered buildings, trees with gold-dipped leaves rustling in the breeze, and students who looked like they'd already found their place in the world.

Missy hadn't.

She walked slowly toward the dorms, her suitcase rattling on the cracked pavement, eyes darting left and right. Everyone seemed to know where they were going.

She didn't. But she held her head high, as her mother had told her: Fake brave until you feel brave.

Inside the dorm building, the air smelled faintly of dust, floor polish, and newness trying to cover something old.

She found her room-302-and hesitated at the door. She could hear faint music coming from inside.

One deep breath, and she pushed the door open.

There, lying across one of the beds like she owned the world, was a girl in black jeans and an oversized band tee.

Her short, dark hair was tousled like she did it on purpose, eyeliner winged sharp enough to kill.

A single earbud dangled from her ear, the other buried in wild curls.

She turned her head lazily. "You're late."

Missy blinked. "Huh?"

"Move-in started three hours ago. I thought maybe you got cold feet." Her voice was dry, smooth, amused. "Or lost."

Missy stepped in, closing the door behind her. "I, um... took the bus. Got delayed."

The girl sat up, stretching like a cat. "Figures. You look like a bus girl."

Missy didn't know what that meant, but she decided not to ask.

"I'm Sienna," the girl added. "Your roommate. Probably the best thing that'll happen to you here. But don't get clingy. I don't do besties."

Missy gave a soft laugh and nodded. "I'm Missy."

Sienna eyed her for a moment. "Missy, huh? Sounds soft."

"I'm not soft," Missy said, trying to sound sure.

Sienna smirked. "We'll see."

The room was small but decent. Her side was bare, a blank slate.

Sienna's side was already full of life black-and-white posters, fairy lights, stacks of books and half-burnt candles on her desk.

"You can take the left side," Sienna said, gesturing carelessly.

"Unless you're one of those 'I like the window' types."

"No, left is fine," Missy replied, dragging her suitcase to the bed.

For the next hour, Missy unpacked in silence while Sienna returned to her music and phone.

Occasionally, Missy glanced at her how confidently she moved, how settled she looked. Like she belonged here.

Missy had never felt like she belonged anywhere.

Not in high school, not in her old neighborhood, not even back home, where expectations hung heavy in the air.

This college was supposed to change that.

"Where are you from?" Missy asked finally, hoping to break the silence.

Sienna didn't look up. "Here. There. Nowhere, really."

That wasn't helpful.

"Okay," Missy said, "what's this school like?"

Sienna did look up then. Her eyes were a strange shade of green, like something deep in the woods. "Depends."

"On what?"

"On who you ask."

Missy gave her a look. "I'm asking you."

Sienna tilted her head. "It's not for the soft. People come here for the degree. Some come for the connections.

Others come because it's the only place left that'll take them. Everyone's running from something."

Missy's brows furrowed. "That's intense."

Sienna smiled without humor. "Welcome to Bellwick."

That night, Missy couldn't sleep. The sheets were stiff, the pillow smelled unfamiliar, and the shadows on the ceiling looked like they moved when she wasn't watching.

Sienna was already snoring softly, one leg dangling off the bed. Missy stared up at the ceiling.

She wasn't soft.

She was just new.

But something in Sienna's words stuck with her.

The tone, the warning behind the eyes, like there were things lurking under the surface of this school that no welcome packet could explain.

Missy rolled over and whispered to herself, "Just college. That's all it is."

But even then, she didn't believe it.

The sunlight spilled through the dorm blinds far too early for Missy’s liking.

She groaned and pulled the covers over her head, hoping to steal a few more minutes of sleep. But Sienna had other plans.

“Up, sunshine,” Sienna called, already dressed in ripped jeans and a cropped hoodie. “Intro to Lit waits for no one.”

Missy peeked out from under the blanket. “We have the same class?”

“No,” Sienna smirked. “But I’m walking you to yours. You look like the type to get lost and end up in a boiler room.”

Missy rolled her eyes but smiled. As much as Sienna acted detached, there was a weird kind of protectiveness underneath all that eyeliner and sarcasm.

She dragged herself out of bed, pulling on a pair of light-washed jeans and a soft cream sweater. Simple. Comfortable. Safe. She barely had time to tame her curls into a loose ponytail before Sienna tossed her a granola bar.

“Eat. Or faint halfway through class. Either way, I’ll laugh.”

They headed out of the dorm and into the crisp morning.

Bellwick’s campus was waking up students moving in sleepy clumps, laughter echoing down walkways, and the occasional skateboarder weaving through bodies like it was a video game.

Missy inhaled the cool air. For a moment, everything felt...normal.

Until the sound hit.

A low rumble. Sharp. Predatory.

Not just one motorcycle. Four.

Sienna stopped walking.

So did everyone else.

Missy turned her head slowly, following the sound as it grew louder, closer like thunder rolling across pavement.

And then she saw them.

Four matte-black motorcycles roared through the campus gates, students instinctively stepping aside like a force of nature had arrived.

The riders didn’t weave or slow. They moved in perfect sync, an unbreakable formation that screamed control and danger.

Missy’s heart thudded in her chest.

The first rider was lean, all sharp angles and cold eyes.

The second had a scar across his neck, visible even under his dark collar.

The third was broader, his arms completely sleeved in ink, sunglasses hiding his expression.

And then there was the fourth.

He rode slightly behind the others, but somehow, he was the one Missy couldn’t look away from.

No helmet. Just wild, dark hair tousled by the wind and a stare that could cut through steel.

Tattoos peeked from under his black shirt, curling up the side of his neck and disappearing behind his jaw.

And his eyes deep, unreadable, and locked on her.

Missy’s breath caught.

The world didn’t slow down. It stopped.

She didn't know his name. Didn't know his story. But something in her chest ached like recognition. Like warning.

The bikes came to a stop near the faculty building. Doors opened. Students cleared. Not one dared to speak.

“They don’t belong here,” Missy whispered before she even realized she was speaking.

Sienna gave her a side glance. “Funny thing is... they do. More than anyone else.”

Missy swallowed. “Who are they?”

Sienna started walking again. “The ones you pretend not to see. The ones the professors don’t dare fail. The ones who own this place without ever saying a word.”

Missy followed, her legs suddenly heavier.

“They’re mafia, aren’t they?” she asked quietly.

Sienna didn’t answer right away.

Then, just as they turned the corner, she said, “No. They're worse.”