Chapter 24- The Clock Tower Club

The Cartel didn’t do open invites.

And they definitely didn’t do midnight meetings in iconic locations like villains in a bad movie.

But then again, everything about this year at Daxton was starting to feel like it was written by someone with a flair for drama and a vendetta against normalcy.

Sonia climbed the last spiral step of the clock tower, boots scuffing against the worn stone, breath caught somewhere between adrenaline and disbelief.

The bell above her groaned like it hadn’t been touched in years.

Good. If it rang, someone would probably die from the heart attack.

At the top platform, she found three people already waiting in the half-lit circle cast by lanterns and moonlight.

Cleo Morvain, Atlas Ling and of course Eric.

“What is he doing here?” she asked immediately, already feeling her pulse trip into combat mode.

Cleo raised an eyebrow. “Relax. He’s not the reason we’re here.”

“I invited him,” Atlas said, hands in his coat pockets, the same lazy calm he always carried like a weapon. “We figured the only way you’d show up with a leash on your temper was if someone brought your emotional support snark-boy.”

Eric gave a little bow. “Happy to be of service.”

Sonia shot him a glare, but her mouth twitched.

Just a little.

They’d kissed. Two hours ago. And now he was here, standing in the one place no sane person went without a forged invitation and a healthy fear of consequences.

That had to count for something.

Or maybe she was going soft.

God, she hoped not.

---

Cleo stepped forward, her voice low and controlled. “We found the footage.”

Sonia blinked. “Claire?”

Atlas nodded. “And two other names tied to the admission committee. All falsifying legacy admissions for a pay-to-play system.”

“But they’re hiding it under a scholarship initiative,” Cleo added. “The October Gala is their showcase. They’ll announce new 'legacy values' and then use them to reshape Daxton’s hierarchy.”

Eric whistled under his breath. “Sounds like capitalism wearing a prep school blazer.”

“More like corruption with a curated I*******m feed,” Sonia muttered.

Cleo crossed her arms. “We’re going to leak it. All of it. To the right alumni outlets. To a few influencers who owe me favors.”

Sonia nodded slowly. “And you want me to go on stage and pretend I don’t know any of this?”

“No,” Atlas said. “We want you to go on stage and burn it all down.”

---

The wind cut sharper now, like the clock tower itself was holding its breath.

Sonia stared at the three of them.

A part of her still wanted to walk away.

Because exposing the truth didn’t always make things better. Sometimes it just scattered the wreckage louder.

But then Eric nudged her gently.

“Hey,” he said under his breath, “you don’t have to be the perfect Vale for this.”

She looked up at him.

He gave her a crooked grin, boyish and brave.

“You can be the chaotic one with sharp eyeliner and trauma reflexes.”

Sonia snorted. “You’re an idiot.”

“I prefer ‘emotionally available with a martyr complex.’”

Cleo rolled her eyes. “Can you two flirt later? We’re trying to dismantle a dynasty.”

Sonia squeezed the jump drive in her pocket.

Then met their eyes.

“All right,” she said. “Let’s bring down a kingdom.”

---

1:03 AM — Eric’s Dorm Room

“You’re staring,” he said.

“I’m not.”

“You’re definitely staring.”

Sonia didn’t look away.

They were lying side by side on his bed, shoulder to shoulder, boots off but still fully dressed—because emotional sabotage didn’t mean they were at the spooning phase yet.

The room was quiet. No clock ticking. No music. Just the low hum of the heater and the scratch of her thumbnail against the inside of her wrist.

“You showed up tonight,” she said finally. “Even though you didn’t have to.”

Eric turned his head. “Neither did you.”

She thought about that.

How many nights she’d wanted to disappear.

How many masks she’d worn.

How much her brother’s name still echoed louder than her own.

“You don’t see Silas when you look at me?” she asked, softer now.

Eric hesitated.

“No,” he said, voice even. “I see someone braver.”

She reached for his hand.

And he laced his fingers through hers without saying a word.