The instant it hit, Lottie felt the jolt deep in her chest—the unmistakable flare of the Mislead Pulse. It wasn't just a spark this time, it was a surge, a flood of icy electricity that raced up her spine and out through her fingertips, making her shiver despite the crowded warmth of the hallway. Her breath caught sharply, lips parting on a soundless exhale as her vision sharpened at the edges, every detail suddenly too vivid. Across the hall, Evelyn stiffened mid-laugh, her poised figure momentarily faltering as the Foresight Flash surged to life behind her eyes.
Lottie's fingers twitched at her sides, nails digging faint crescents into her palm as she seized the Pulse with practiced precision. Plant it now. A slip of paper falling, a stumble near the lockers, the edge of a whispered conversation by the water fountain—she wove the false image like a silk thread into Evelyn's vision, delicate but deliberate. She barely had time to register the triumph curling in her chest before Evelyn's mask cracked.
For half a breath, Evelyn's eyes flickered—an almost imperceptible flash of confusion, the tiniest tremor at the corner of her mouth. Her confident smile wavered, the perfectly applied gloss catching the light in a way that only Lottie noticed, before Evelyn snapped her composure back into place. It was enough. Lottie felt the shift like a tremor in the air, the faintest quiver of a glass about to shatter. Her lips curved into the faintest smirk, a secret, sharp-edged thing she wore just for herself.
Amy bounced at her side, chattering nervously, hands fluttering like anxious birds as she clutched her books tighter. "Did you hear? Evelyn's group is planning something for the assembly…" Her voice cracked a little on the last word, and her fingers twisted the strap of her bag until her knuckles whitened. "But maybe it's nothing, maybe we're just overthinking—"
"No," Lottie murmured, the single syllable sliding from her tongue like silk drawn over a blade. She reached out, brushing the back of her hand lightly against Amy's arm, the coolness of her skin startling. Amy flinched slightly, but Lottie's touch steadied her, anchoring her with quiet command. "It's exactly what we think."
From the corner of her eye, Lottie caught movement. Leo watched from where he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed in an easy slouch that belied the sharp attention glittering in his eyes. His fingers drummed an idle rhythm against his bicep, but his gaze missed nothing. When his eyes met Lottie's, a flicker of something—amusement, admiration, challenge—passed between them. His mouth quirked into a crooked grin, and he pushed off the wall, sauntering over with a lazy grace that made the hallway feel suddenly too narrow, too charged.
The hallway's mood shifted like the tightening of a string. Whispers curled through the air, sharpened glances darting from corners, and a low hum of tension seemed to settle over the students. Evelyn's circle, usually so effortless in their choreographed power plays, stumbled over their own glances, their laughter a beat too forced, their whispers too frantic. Someone giggled nervously; another shot a wide-eyed look at Evelyn, uncertain. The perfect script was unraveling, thread by thread.
Evelyn pivoted, sharp and fluid, the heels of her shoes tapping a crisp rhythm on the polished tile. Her hair caught the fluorescent light in a glossy sheen as she turned, the practiced curve of her lips stretching into a smile that was just a little too sharp at the edges. "Charlotte," she called softly, her voice wrapped in honey and poison, "you look… flushed. Everything alright?"
Lottie tilted her head, just a fraction, the motion smooth as a blade sliding into a sheath. "Never better." Her voice was cool, the faintest thread of amusement woven through, and Evelyn's pupils contracted just a shade. Lottie caught it all, every shift, every crack.
Amy shifted at her side, fingers twitching restlessly. "Lottie, should we—should we leave? I mean, you look a little pale, maybe we should—"
Lottie's fingers pressed lightly against Amy's wrist, halting the nervous fidget. "Not yet." The words were soft, but firm as iron, and Amy stilled under her touch, her wide eyes darting between Lottie and Evelyn with barely concealed apprehension.
Leo drifted closer, his presence a lazy curl of motion that nevertheless cut through the tension like a blade. "She's rattled," he murmured, low and amused, just close enough that Lottie felt the brush of his breath against her ear. "Nice touch."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Lottie said smoothly, her gaze locked on Evelyn. But beneath the polished calm, her heart thrummed with quiet exhilaration, the thrill of power like a song in her veins. The Pulse still lingered under her skin, a faint vibration that set every nerve alight, and she reveled in it—the shift of control, the delicate unraveling of Evelyn's schemes.
Across the hall, Evelyn's smile twitched, just a flicker, and then smoothed. She leaned into the image, misreading every cue—the hesitation Lottie allowed, the breath she caught too sharply, the carefully staged stumble near the lockers. Evelyn's grin widened, the predator circling its prey, but Lottie saw the cracks forming underneath, saw the tightening of her fingers on the strap of her bag, the sharp flick of her gaze toward her friends.
The hallway buzzed with unspoken tension. A group of students loitered by the vending machines, their laughter faltering as they glanced toward the sisters. A teacher passed by, her eyes flicking over the scene before slipping away, pretending not to notice. The air felt charged, as if the walls themselves held their breath.
Amy fidgeted, worry etched across her features. "They're saying you… you might have cheated on the last exam. That Evelyn overheard something, and—" Her voice dropped to a whisper, panic creeping in. "Lottie, it's spreading."
"Let them say it," Lottie murmured, her tone threaded with steel. "The more they scramble, the easier they fall." Her fingers flexed slightly at her sides, cool and steady despite the rush of adrenaline under her skin.
Leo let out a soft laugh, the sound low and curling at the edges. "You're terrifying," he muttered, his eyes dancing with sharp amusement as they flicked over her face.
The rest of the day unfolded in delicate chaos. Lottie moved through classrooms and corridors with a measured grace, every step calculated, every glance weighed. She felt the confusion thickening around her, a mist of uncertainty that Evelyn's schemes couldn't quite pierce. Notes stuffed in lockers led nowhere; whispered gossip dissolved under scrutiny; the usual undercurrent of awe Evelyn commanded rippled with unease.
By lunch, the cafeteria was electric. Trays clattered, voices rose and fell in waves, and through it all, Evelyn's laughter rang too brightly, too brittle. Her friends watched her with nervous glances, their smiles edged with hesitation. Amy hovered close to Lottie, her fingers worrying the edge of her tray, her eyes darting anxiously. "Lottie, you sure we shouldn't—"
"Amy," Lottie said softly, her gaze flicking to the girl, "trust me."
And, despite herself, Amy did.
Leo lounged nearby, legs stretched out under the table, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he watched the unraveling play out. "You know," he murmured, voice low and edged with mischief, "I'm starting to think you enjoy this."
Lottie allowed herself a small, cool smile. "Maybe."
Midway through lunch, Evelyn cut through the cafeteria like a blade, her gaze sharp and her smile sharper. Her entourage trailed after her, their steps faltering, eyes darting nervously. As Evelyn passed by, she leaned in just enough that Lottie felt the faintest stir of her perfume—sweet, floral, cloying—and the whisper of her breath against her ear. "Enjoy this while it lasts," Evelyn murmured, the words a velvet threat.
Lottie's pulse leapt once, a swift, fierce beat—but she let her lips curve into a slow, deliberate smile, the kind that spoke of knives hidden in velvet. "Oh, I intend to."
The afternoon blurred into sharp, glinting moments. Teachers' eyes lingered a heartbeat longer; students whispered behind raised hands; Evelyn's plans faltered, flared, and faltered again. Lottie felt it all, every tremor, every shift. The Mislead Pulse had set the stage, and Evelyn was dancing to a song only Lottie could hear.
As the final bell rang, a wave of restless energy swept through the hallways. Lottie slipped into the current, her steps light but certain, the hum of victory coiled tight beneath her skin. She felt Leo fall into stride beside her, his presence a warm, sardonic echo. "You really did it," he murmured, voice pitched low with amusement. "She fell for every inch of it."
"She's predictable," Lottie said, voice smooth as glass. "That's her greatest weakness."
Leo turned his head slightly, his grin edged with curiosity. "And yours?"
Lottie paused, just long enough to meet his gaze sidelong, cool and sharp. "I haven't decided yet."
Behind them, Amy called softly, her voice a breathless, uncertain thread. "Lottie, wait!"
Lottie turned, the motion unhurried, the faintest ghost of a smile still on her lips. For a moment, the world narrowed—the shimmer of sunlight on lockers, the hush of footsteps fading down the hall, the sharp gleam of Leo's gaze flicking between her and Amy. Beneath it all, the faint, inevitable pulse of power stirred again, curling in her chest like a promise.
She smiled—not wide, not soft, but precise. "Tomorrow," she murmured, the words slipping free like a quiet blade, "we start again."
Leo's brow lifted, a glimmer of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Whatever you're planning… don't keep me out of it."
Amy reached them, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with worry and something else—something like awe. Evelyn watched from across the courtyard, her eyes dark, glittering beneath the fading light, the edge of her smile brittle as glass.
And the game—beautiful, brutal, inevitable—continued.