The campus café buzzed with the morning rush—students hunched over laptops, the hiss of the espresso machine and the clatter of mugs.
I slipped in at 7:55 am sharp, heart slamming against my ribs like it wanted out.
Mordred’s text from last night burned in my mind: "Begging you." I’d lied in my reply, and said I wouldn’t go. But here I was, scanning the tables, curiosity winning over caution.
What if Lysander really knew about Anonymous? What if this ended the threats and the paranoia? Or what if Mordred was right, and I was walking into a noose?
All that didn’t matter now, because in life you need to take risks in order to know the Truth. Afterall, there’s nothing he can do to over here—at a cafe full of students.
I spotted him in the corner booth, nursing a black coffee and looking more worn than I’d ever seen him. He has dark circles under his eyes with his hair tousled like he’d skipped sleep.
He lit up when he saw , standing with a tentative smile and pulling a small wrapped box from his backpack.
"Kianna, you ca."he muttered cheerfully and handed the gift with his fingers brushing mine.
"For you, I know I’ve been missing for a while." He teased .
I took it, unwrapping the paper to reveal a delicate silver watch with a tiny compass charm. "Why a watch?" I asked, with a smirk.
"Sothing to help you find your way," he replied softly. "You’ve been through a lot. I figured... I don’t know, maybe it’s cheesy."
It was sweet. Too sweet, after everything. I slid it on, the tal cool against my wrist, but my mind raced. Is this genuine? Or bait? Oh no Kianna, this is not the ti.
After we sat down, he called the waitress and ordered so chocolate boba, my favorite. He still rembers? Why doubt a person who actually rembers every small detail you ever told Kianna? I couldn’t even bring myself to look him in the eye.
But still I wasn’t satisfied yet and so I skipped the small talk and dived straight in. "Lysander, what the hell is going on with Trent?"
He blinked, setting his mug down. "Trent? What about him?"
"He cornered yesterday on a bench, and said you sent him with a ssage. ’Lay low, things are complicated." I replied, then observed his reaction.
He didn’t actually look surprised despite being a bit clueless. He just raised a brow and muttered, " He said all that? That’s a lie, if I want to talk to you...why wouldn’t I co myself?"
"Oh, but that’s not all Lysander." I shot, raising my head to et his eyes.
"There’s more?" He asked, with his eyes wide open.
"Yes, he showed up at the police station as a "witness" for my stepparents, lying about knowing for ages. And got Mordred arrested—temporarily, and got kicked out of his place." I added.
Lysander’s face was drained of color. "Police station? What? I didn’t send him anywhere. Trent’s... he’s my roommate, yeah, but we’ve been butting heads lately. I barely talked to him yesterday."
He murmured, rage boiling in his voice. He looked like he would choke Trent to death if he ever appeared in front of him.
"And in the hallway? Before my test? I called your na twice. But you blew right past ." I added, and folded my arms. Hopefully he won’t have anything to say this ti.
He rubbed his temples, exhaling slowly. "God, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you—I swear. My head’s been a ss. Family stuff, school piling up... I was zoned out, thinking about this Anonymous crap. I should’ve stopped." He replied, with that sa innocent boy voice I used to know.
But sothing still felt off, what if he had his answers prepared already before coming. It seems he has, then why not catch him off guard with sothing he wouldn’t expect I would ask.
And so I leaned forward, voice low. "Okay, then explain the black SUV. Mordred’s friend saw you getting dropped off at the dorm at midnight. It has tinted windows and private plates. Not exactly scholarship kid vibes."
Lysander hesitated, glancing around the café like the walls had ears. "That... that was Trent’s dad’s car. He picked up after I visited them—Trent dragged over for so awkward family dinner."
He whispered, then took a sip of his coffee and continued, " His old man’s loaded, so tech exec or whatever. Dropped off late because traffic sucked. I don’t know why Trent’s acting shady, Kianna. He’s been off for weeks—secretive calls, disappearing at night. If he’s ssing with you, I had no part in it. I Promise."
Then his eyes t mine, pleading, and for a second, the old Lysander shone through—the one who’d listened without judgnt, who’d been my anchor when everything else spun out.
But doubt still gnawed at . Trent’s dad? Convenient. Was Lysander covering? Or was Trent the real snake, using him as a shield?
"Fine," I said, with my pulse racing. "You texted about Anonymous. Who is it? Spill."
He swallowed, leaning in closer. "Okay. I’ve been digging—hacking forums, tracing IPs from those creepy posts. It’s not Maddox, like you thought. It’s soone closer. I think it’s...."
He paused, then his eyes flicked past , widening in horror. "Kianna, watch out!" He yelled.
Ti slowed. He surged to his feet, quickly shoving sideways as a crack split the air. It was sharp, like thunder too close.
PAW!!! PAW!!
Glass shattered from the window behind us. And Lysander grunted, staggering back and clutching his arm. Blood blood through his sleeve, dark and was spreading fast.
Screams erupted around us. People dove under tables whilst so tried to leave by pushing others. I hit the floor hard, scrambling to him. "Lysander!"
He slumped against the booth, his face was pale, but his eyes were locked on the rooftop across the street— which was empty now, the shooter vanished. "Sniper... aid at you." He whispered, in a breathless tone.
My hands shook as I pressed on the wound, blood slicking my fingers. But my brain was spilling with countless questions.
Who’s this shooter? Is he anonymous? And why now of all tis?The watch on my wrist caught the light, mocking . I’d co for answers and walked us both into a bullet.
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