Ravenshade was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet before a bomb drops.
Or after it already has, and no one's found the crater yet.
I sat alone in the study hall, red envelope on the table, USB still warm in my pocket.
Two truths. One lie. Choose who survives.
They wanted me to play the executioner.
So I did.
But not the way they expected.
At 11:53 p.m., I logged into RavenLine using the dead drop Angel had shown me.
A section hidden in the code, buried in alumni data.
I posted a single file.
"Mr. Kessel Unlocked Drive Contents"
Every dirty secret. Every student blackmails note. Every whispered threat was recorded and filed.
Five minutes later, I posted a second file. Shorter. Sharper.
"Ezra Holt – Chat Logs w/ Blogger (6 weeks ago)"
I didn't choose between them.
I chose both.
Let the system decide.
Let them squirm.
I'd stop playing by their rules.
The response was immediate.
Students panicked. Teachers locked offices. Admins began sweeping the servers.
And somewhere, deep in the school's firewalls…
A new message blinked to life.
Private inbox. No name. No profile photo.
Just:
"You've forced our hand.
One will vanish.
One will live.
But you don't get to decide anymore."
-R
The next morning, the school was silent.
No morning announcements. No hall monitor greetings. Just silence.
Then, at 8:10 a.m., an announcement crackled through the speakers:
"Attention students and staff: Due to a faculty emergency, all classes today are canceled. Dorms are restricted. Investigation ongoing."
I already knew what it meant.
I ran to the library. Found Ezra's dorm key gone. His bed untouched. His photos… gone.
Gone.
Like Lena.
Vanished.
Only..
I got to the stairwell, and a hand yanked me back.
Ezra.
Very much alive.
"You weren't supposed to choose both," he said.
My heart almost gave out.
"You're alive…"
"I barely made it. Someone cut power to the security wing while I was being questioned. It was like they wanted me out."
"They let you go?"
"No," he said, and held out his wrist.
A red burn mark. A circle with a line through it.
"I've been marked."
"For what?"
"For exile. I have 24 hours to leave the school… or disappear the hard way."
"Why didn't you tell me about the file?" I asked.
He looked away.
"I did take your case file. But not for the Blogger. I sent it to someone outside. A whistleblower. I thought maybe they'd finally shut this place down."
"You should've told me."
"I didn't want you in deeper. Not like this."
Too late.
***
That night, another message appeared on my screen.
Same dead drop.
Same faceless sender.
"You think you're clever.
You're not the first to rebel.
But you might be the last."
Then a download prompt appeared.
File name: ROW_REC_01.avi
I hesitated. Then clicked.
Grainy footage.
A girl strapped to a chair. Crying.
And in the corner of the screen…
..was Isla Moreau.
Still alive!