Vincent’s POVThe noise of the cafeteria—the clatter of plastic trays, the hum of fluorescent lighting, the endless, meaningless chatter of teenagers—faded into a sharp, static ringing.He was standing right beside the vending machines by the south exit, leaning back against the painted cinder block as if he belonged here. He wore a plain gray hoodie, the hood pulled down just far enough to expose a jagged, angry row of black stitches running along his jawline—the souvenir my knuckles had left on his face three nights ago. His skin was sallow, his eyes sunken and bloodshot, but the smile spreading across his face was sickeningly smooth.The police were supposed to have him. They’d thrown him into the back of a squad car. They’d taken my statement, taken Ethan’s statement, taken the bloody rag from the floor of that concrete cell.Yet here he was. Standing inside Bellmont Academy."You," I said. The word didn't leave my throat as a roar; it came out as a low, suffocating rasp."
ปรับปรุงล่าสุด : 2026-08-26
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