POV: Zion
People always say I'm mysterious. That I "keep too much to myself."
What they don't understand is—I only show people what they're ready to see.
Goldridge Academy moved in rhythms. Power. Gossip. Fear. Some swam in it. Some drowned.
I... rewrote the current.
Kevin never stood a chance.
From the moment he started eyeing Mabelle like a prize to be won, I knew how far he'd go. He wasn't just jealous—he was desperate. It wasn't about Mabelle anymore. It was about me. The shadow he could never outrun.
And he thought I didn't see it?
Funny.
What he didn't know was that I'd seen it all. Heard it all. Watched every move he made before he even made it.
Because the person he trusted the most with his twisted little "plans" wasn't a friend. Wasn't a lackey.
It was me.
He just didn't know.
That anonymous number he vented to—the one he poured his frustrations into, sent blurry screenshots of my achievements to, whined about how "everyone always picks Zion"—yeah. That number was mine. A burner phone, quiet, clean, never used for anything else.
He called it "Shadow."
I called it insurance.
At first, I didn't mean to bait him. But after he tried to turn the whole friend group against me over that laughable "Zion-stole-Mabelle" narrative, I knew I had to think ahead. Let him talk. Let him spiral.
And oh, did he spiral.
The moment he sent the idea about leaking a fake file about my parents, I didn't even flinch. I let him marinate in it, waited until he hit "print," then dropped the group chat warning.
Letting everyone know something was coming.
Not because I needed their sympathy. But because I needed witnesses.
When those forged documents hit the lockers, the hallways, the class boards—everyone already knew what to expect. It was like watching a trap spring shut in slow motion.
I didn't need to raise a hand.
The school handled Kevin for me.
The stares. The posts. The slap from Mabelle.
He got publicly exiled, and I never even had to break a sweat.
As I lounged by the window of my room later that night, light from my laptop glowing against the darkness, I scrolled through Kevin's last text to "Shadow."
"They all hate me now.
You said this would work.
Why did you let me go through with it?"
I smirked. Then I typed back one final message.
"I didn't let you.
I showed you the rope.
You tied the noose."
Then I powered down the burner, removed the sim, and snapped the card in half.
He served his role.
The problem with guys like Kevin? They think chaos is a weapon.
They never realize some of us are the chaos.