Chapter 20- The Dead Don’t Write Letters

At Daxton, silence rarely meant safety.

It meant something was watching you decide how loud to be.

The morning after the speech, Sonia expected fallout. Repercussions. Summons from Claire. A fresh round of rumors, maybe even a headline like:

“Vale Legacy Melts Down On Stage.”

Or worse:

“Girl in Boy’s Blazer Admits It All.”

But there was nothing.

No disciplinary summons.

No Cartel invitation.

No Mavina gloat.

Just a soft, manufactured quiet that made Sonia feel like she was standing in the eye of something much, much bigger.

Even Eric seemed cautious, walking beside her on the quad with his hands deep in his coat pockets like he didn’t want them to shake.

“You made waves,” he said, voice low.

“I didn’t say anything they couldn’t already guess.”

“That’s what makes it dangerous.”

She looked at him.

“You’re not scared of me now?”

He smirked. “I’m scared for you.”

And then he laced his fingers through hers. Right there. In the open.

That simple, shameless act felt louder than her whole speech.

---

2:08 PM — Mailroom

Nobody used Daxton’s physical mail system unless it was something old or important.

That’s why Sonia didn’t expect to see her name on a black envelope, written in her brother’s handwriting.

Silas Vale.

Not a copy.

Not a scan.

His loops. His leftward slant. The underlined V that only she would notice.

Her hands trembled as she broke the wax seal.

Inside: a single sheet of paper. A letter. Written in pen.

Sonia,

If you’re reading this, then I did something stupid. Or brave. Maybe both.

I never planned for you to be part of this. I thought I could walk into their secrets and walk back out with the truth. But you always said I was reckless.

You were right.

Claire isn’t who you think she is. None of them are. The Cartel isn’t just a student society. It’s generational. It’s embedded in the Academy itself.

And they knew about us long before we came here.

There’s something buried in the old East Wing archives. File code X7-L. You’ll need clearance. Or a distraction big enough to fake it.

And Sonia—don’t trust the people who say they’re protecting you.

They’re the ones who erased me first.

—S

The bottom was smudged. Like it had been wet. Like he’d written it fast. Or like someone else had handled it.

Sonia read it twice. Then again.

He was alive. He was alive when he wrote this.

Which meant...

“File code X7-L,” she muttered under her breath.

The old East Wing had been sealed off for years. Officially condemned. Unofficially… off-limits to anyone without Board clearance.

Or someone willing to climb through a broken maintenance shaft.

Which Sonia absolutely was.

---

10:29 PM — East Wing Basement

The air here was thick with dust and age and secrets that didn’t want to be touched.

Sonia’s boots echoed against the stone as she moved deeper, flashlight in hand, map from the janitor’s schedule folded in her back pocket.

The door to the file room was rusted, but not locked.

Inside: rows and rows of cabinets. Steel. Cold. Untouched.

She moved fast.

X-section. Drawer 7. Label L.

It screeched as it opened.

Inside: two things.

1. A file folder marked: Vale, S. / Potential Candidate

2. A tiny, black USB drive taped to the back.

She slipped both into her hoodie and started to leave just as the lights cut out.

Not flickered.

Cut.

Complete darkness.

Then a sound behind her.

A step.

She spun, flashlight up—

—and someone grabbed her wrist.

But instead of dragging her back or pinning her down, they whispered:

“You shouldn’t be here. They’ll think you know more than you do.”

The voice was male. Familiar. Barely audible.

She couldn’t see his face. But her gut twisted.

“Silas?” she breathed.

He didn’t answer.

The grip loosened. Then footsteps. Retreating.

She bolted into the corridor, flashlight swinging wildly—

But it was empty.

Whoever it was… they were gone.

---

11:53 PM — Back at the Dorm

Sonia locked the door, pulled the drive from her hoodie, and plugged it into her laptop.

A single folder.

Labeled: DA-XTC.DV1

Inside it:

Surveillance audio logs

Old Daxton Board Meeting transcripts

A partial blueprint of Daxton Academy

And one video file with no title at all.

She clicked play.

The screen flickered.

And then Silas.

Real. Breathing. Sitting in what looked like a concrete room.

“I don’t have long,” he said into the camera. “But if this ever gets out—it means they failed to keep it buried.”

Behind him, someone moved.

Claire.

Her face was visible this time.

She looked younger. Less sharp.

She said: “You were never supposed to get this far.”

And then the video cut to black.

---

Five Minutes to Midnight

Sonia sat on her bed, staring at the frozen screen.

This wasn’t just about pretending anymore.

It was about pulling the whole house of secrets down with her.

The Cartel wanted silence.

But what if she gave them something louder than a confession?

What if she gave them a truth they couldn’t un-hear?

Five minutes to midnight.

The next match was hers to light.