"I can help you," Mateo had said through the door, and his gentleness was more terrifying than any threat could have been.
The silence after his whisper was unbearable. You're not who you say you are, are you?
The question hung between them like a loaded gun, waiting for someone to pull the trigger. Maya's throat locked up completely, muscles seizing with the kind of panic that made breathing impossible. For a second—one dangerous, desperate second—she almost answered. Almost confessed everything just to make the crushing weight of deception vanish from her chest.
Tell him. Tell him about Chicago, about the blood, about why you wake up screaming. Tell him the truth and let someone else carry this for once.
The temptation was so strong it made her dizzy. The relief of finally being known, of dropping the exhausting performance of being Alex Rivera, of having someone understand why she moved through the world like she was always looking over her shoulder.
But survival kicked in, cold and sharp as winter air.
If you tell him, he dies too. That's how this works. That's why they put you here.
Agent Chen's words echoed in her memory: The people who killed your family are still looking. Trust no one. Protect your cover or everyone around you becomes a target.
Maya forced her voice steady, even though her hands were shaking so violently against the sheets she was sure Mateo could hear the rustling fabric. "You're imagining things, Mateo. Go to bed."
The lie tasted like copper pennies, like the blood she'd tried so hard to forget. But it was the only answer that kept him safe, the only response that didn't drag him into the nightmare that had become her life.
Please believe it. Please just walk away.
Nothing. No footsteps retreating down the hallway, no muttered apology for disturbing her sleep, no acceptance of her deflection. Just him standing out there in the darkness, his presence pressing through the door like a shadow that refused to be dismissed.
Maya could picture him perfectly—arms crossed, jaw set with that stubborn determination she'd seen on the soccer field when he decided he was going to win a challenge no matter what it cost him. The same look he'd worn during their one-on-one confrontation, right before she'd humiliated him in front of the entire team.
He's not going to let this go. He never lets anything go.
The silence stretched until Maya's nerves felt like live wires, sparking with electricity that had nowhere to discharge. She counted her heartbeats—sixty, seventy, eighty—trying to measure how long someone might reasonably stand outside a dormmate's door before giving up and returning to their own room.
Finally, his voice returned—quiet but carrying undertones that made her skin crawl with recognition. There was something almost smug in his tone, like he'd already won a game she didn't know they were playing.
"I'll figure you out."
It wasn't a threat. It was a promise. A declaration of intent that carried the weight of absolute certainty. Maya had heard that tone before, in the voices of detectives who'd solved cases that everyone else had given up on, in the words of journalists who'd uncovered scandals that powerful people had tried to bury.
He's going to keep digging until he finds something. And when he does...
The floor creaked under his weight as he finally moved, the old building's bones protesting the shift in pressure. His footsteps retreated down the hallway, slow and measured, like he was in no hurry to end this confrontation because he knew there would be others.
Maya waited, holding her breath until the silence was absolute and she was sure he'd actually gone back to his room instead of just moving to a position where she couldn't hear him. Only then did she allow herself to collapse back against the mattress, heart pounding so loud she was certain the whole dormitory could hear it echoing through the walls.
What am I going to do? What the hell am I going to do?
Sleep didn't come back. How could it? Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Mateo's face—not angry or suspicious, but concerned. Worried about her. Ready to help with problems she couldn't let him know existed.
He thinks he's being kind. He has no idea he's signing his own death warrant.
The hours crawled by with agonizing slowness. Three AM became four, then five, each minute marked by the digital clock on her nightstand that seemed to be moving through molasses. Maya stared at the ceiling, listening to the building settle around her, hyperaware of every sound that might indicate someone moving through the hallways.
Only fear now. Fear and the gnawing truth: Mateo isn't going to let this go.
He was like a dog with a bone, the kind of person who worried at problems until they fell apart in his hands. Maya had seen it during practice—the way he studied plays until he understood every possible variation, the way he analyzed opponents until he could predict their moves three steps ahead.
And now I'm the problem he's decided to solve.
By the time pale light began filtering through her window, Maya had made a decision. She couldn't control what Mateo suspected or what he might discover, but she could control how much access he had to evidence. No more library study sessions where he could observe her reactions to questions. No more lingering after practice where he could catalog her mannerisms. No more casual conversations that might reveal details that didn't fit Alex Rivera's carefully constructed background.
Distance. That's the only way to survive this.
It would mean giving up the few moments of normal teenage interaction she'd managed to find at Riverside Academy. It would mean more isolation, more careful performance, more exhausting vigilance. But isolation was survivable.
Discovery wasn't.
Maya climbed out of bed as the first rays of California sunshine painted her walls gold, her body moving with mechanical precision toward another day of being someone she wasn't. In the mirror, Alex Rivera stared back at her—tired, haunted, but still intact.
One more day. Just make it through one more day.
But as she prepared for whatever new challenges Mateo might present, Maya couldn't shake the feeling that her time was running out. That no matter how careful she was, how perfect her performance, someone with enough determination and the right questions would eventually uncover the truth.
And when that happened, everyone she cared about would pay the price.