Semua Bab Bound by secrets, Broken by love: Bab 21 - Bab 30

Astrid"It’s cold outside," Harry adds, rubbing the back of his neck. "You don’t wanna freeze your toes off while throwin’ punches."I nod, biting back a laugh. "I appreciate that."I wonder how he and Aiden are even friends. He’s like the total opposite of Aiden, who always drags me outside to “build mental toughness.” I roll my eyes internally at the memory. Harry is... considerate.Greystone. I never really gave that name a second thought—until now.I’m in class, physically, but my mind is nowhere near here. I’m stuck in a loop of worry and nerves. The fight’s in three days. My stomach knots every time I think about it. The girl I’m up against—anyone who asks me about the match looks at me like I’m already doomed.I hadn’t even heard of her until yesterday, but now it feels like I’m hearing her name everywhere—in passing convos, whispered at lockers. It’s like she’s haunting me.After school, I grab my bag and head straight to the gym. The fluorescent lights buzz as I walk in. Harr

Astrid The walls of the classroom are painted gray, but they might as well be blank sheets of paper with how little attention I’m paying. Ms. Kerrigan’s voice drones in the background, distant, like it’s coming from underwater. I’m supposed to be focused on something about history… or war treaties. I don’t know. I’ve already stopped trying. “Astrid,” Ms. Kerrigan snaps. I'm jolted out of my half-daydream. “You haven’t written a single word since class began. Care to share what’s on your mind?” she asks, her brows rising. A soft chuckle breaks the quiet tension, and then a voice behind me calls out, loud enough to earn a reaction: “Guess she’s got the Greyson fever!” Laughter breaks out instantly. Not cruel, but definitely amused. The sound of it presses against my skull. I clench my jaw, trying to keep my expression blank. “That’s enough!” Ms. Kerrigan barks. The laughter quiets down to giggles. “This is a classroom, not a comedy show. Anyone else want to make jokes?”

Aiden My shoes click against the floor, cutting through the sterile silence as I move through the hallway. I’ve got better shit to do than be here. My supposed flu was just a ploy to sneak out without raising suspicion. The new lead was too good to ignore. The footage from the night of my mother’s death was wiped, but there’s a copy that still exists. A flash drive in my uncle’s possession. I spent almost three fucking days searching everywhere in his office—drawers, briefcases, even cloud backups—but all I found was irrelevant pack junk, business files. Nothing really useful. My last resort was to check his safes. Three of which I have no access to. Three—that I know of, at least. There might be more, judging by the level of secrecy. Lucas clocked on when I dropped the sick act. My bad for getting sloppy. He’s likely suspected I was up to no good—probably thought I was trying to skip school. Hovered like a hawk. Voice calm, questions casual and minimal. But I knew where he w

AstridMy eyes meet with Greystone's, and it's safe to say she's not backing down soon. Her brown eyes look almost fiery as she glares. Her jaw clenches. With a low grunt, she rises slowly from the ground, chest puffed while her nose flares.Her steps are wobbly, but then, it'll take more than a few punches for someone like her to back down from me.She circles me, her eyes sweeping over my frame like a hunter marking its prey. I mirror her movements, moving into a half-circle of my own."Do your thing, Kayleigh," I breathe out.It happens immediately. My mind fades into the background. I feel more like a passenger—my vision tunneling, focusing only on our target: Greystone.We lunge at each other simultaneously, fists bared, fingers clawed, teeth gritted.I feel everything—every single movement, every hit—but I'm not the one guiding the attacks. Everything moves in slow motion, and I can already tell what tactic she wants to use. It's like everyone has held their breath. It's even mo

Astrid I drop to my knees, scrubbing my arms, legs—everything—against the damp spot before it dries up. I even snatch a pair of leggings off the floor and scrub harder but it's useless. “Come on, come on,” I hiss. It feels like I’m caught in a spiral. One moment I’m celebrating a hard-won victory, and the next, I’m on all fours, scrubbing my rug like a freaking maid. Imagine hopping out of one problem just to land face-first in another—all in one day. Classic Astrid. I glance at the time. It’s 5:30 a.m. Just great. I can’t even take a shower. If I do ,whatever faint trace of false scent that still clings to me will be gone, and I need it to hold out through the day. I mean, I have a freaking test to write. So yeah, I’ll just skip showering for one day. Just one sweaty, paranoia-filled, stress-soaked day. I grab my phone and dial my mom. One ring. Two rings. It goes straight to voicemail. Of course, she’s in a meeting. Or sleeping. Or just ignoring my call, which h