The high-security administrative wing was a fortress of glass and cold ambition. Andrew Watson sat in his high-backed chair, his silhouette cast against the security monitors like a dark god. Beside him, Madam Violet sipped from a crystal glass, though her hand trembled—a lingering tremor from the "gifts" delivered earlier.
"The students are in place," Andrew murmured, his voice as clinical as a scalpel. "They think they are attending a party. They don't realize they are attending their own funeral."
The Grand Ballroom was a masterpiece of architectural deception—gold leaf and silk masking the stench of a thousand buried secrets. Andrew Watson and Madam Violet stood on the mezzanine like dark deities, watching their "failed batches" with predatory hunger.
Roxanne and Onel stepped onto the stage, their voices amplified by the soul-sucking acoustics of the wing. "Welcome, everyone! Are you excited for today?"
The room erupted in a hollow, terrified "YES!" that sounded more like a plea for mercy than a cheer.
"And now," Roxanne continued, "Madam Violet is coming onto the stage to announce the reason for today's gala."
Violet ascended the stairs with the grace of a funeral director. She scanned the crowd, her gaze lingering on Jay and Zein. "This is just a normal party," she whispered into the microphone, her voice a cold silk thread. "But in this school, even a normal party can be a final goodbye for those who don't know their place. It's the last thing some of you will ever hear."
The waltz began. The survivors stood in a silent corner, refusing the tainted champagne and poisoned hors d'oeuvres. They were shadows in a room full of ghosts.
It was an indirect warning, a venomous promise. The music started—a haunting, discordant waltz. The students began to move, but Jay's group stood firm in their resolve: no food, no drinks. Everything in this room was a potential delivery system for Andrew's "disposal" protocol.
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Keifer's POV
I had my hand on the small of Jay's back, pulling her flush against my chest. We were dancing, but it wasn't a waltz; it was a tactical embrace. I could feel the knife tucked into her garter and the cold steel of my own pistol pressed against my ribs.
"You're stiff, Watson," she whispered, her breath warm against my neck.
"I don't like the environment here,wifey," I grumbled. "Too many people. Too many eyes looking at you."
Then, the world shifted, it happened.
A coordinated surge of senior students—Andrew's loyalist lapdogs—slammed into us. I was shoved with unnatural force, a shoulder hitting my chest and sending me reeling toward the buffet line. I snarled, throwing a punch to clear my path, but the sea of silk and masks closed the gap. I lost sight of her brown hair for three seconds.
Three seconds was all it took.
The music screeched to a halt. The lights flickered and died, leaving us in a heartbeat of absolute darkness before the emergency flares hissed to life.
I spun around, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. "Jay?"
I found her. She was standing alone in the corner, her back pressed against a cold marble pillar. Her hands were clutched to her stomach, and between her fingers, a dark, viscous crimson was blooming across her white gown like a cursed flower. A silver hilt protruded from her abdomen.
"JAY-JAY!"
The scream that left my throat wasn't human. It was the sound of a man watching his soul bleed out. I didn't care who saw the fear in my eyes. I lunged forward, catching her just as her knees gave out. I held her tight, my hands shaking as I felt the warmth of her blood soaking through my suit. It was so much blood. Too much.
"No, no, no... look at me, Jay! That's an order!" I gasped, my voice breaking. I didn't care about the gala, the guards, or the mission. I scooped her into my arms and ran. I ran like the hounds of hell were at my heels, my boots thudding against the marble as I sprinted toward the medical wing.
"Don't you dare leave me," I whispered into her hair, my vision blurring with a fear I had never known. "I'm not done loving you yet, you hear me? Don't you dare!"
I burst into the clinic, my suit drenched in red. I laid her on the table, my hands stained with the life force of the only person who made this hell bearable. The nurse hesitated, her eyes wide with terror.
"FIX HER!" I roared, the sound vibrating the glass cabinets.
"I want her safe! Did you hear me?" Ace bellowed. "If she doesn't walk out of here, no one in this wing does!"
I was forced out of the room as the stitching began. I stood in the hallway, leaning my head against the cold wall, my breath coming in jagged, panicked hitches. I was scared. I was a Watson, a product of cold logic and violence, but right now, I was just a boy terrified of losing his heart.
Edrix and Rory were already moving, disappearing into the shadows of the North Hall to find the coward who did this.
I looked around at our group.Cin and Percy were silent who are never serious even for a second.
Zein sank to the floor in the clinic hallway, Freya beside her.
I saw a single tear escaped from Ace eyes but he wiped it away instantly, his knuckles turning white. Raze was standing beside him
Vanessa and Mia were sobbing, their voices echoing the hollow ache in my chest. Dave, Jerome, and Matt were silent statues, their eyes fixed on the clinic door with a grim, murderous intensity.
Finally, the nurse came out. "She's safe. It was a shallow strike—meant to bleed, not to kill instantly. I've stitched the wound. You can go in."
We all scrambled inside. Cin and Percy were already there, their faces streaked with tears as they hugged her.
"Careful, you brats," Jay rasped, her voice weak but still holding that iron edge.
Zein walked over, taking her hand. Ace followed, patting her hair with a gentleness that was terrifying given the look in his eyes.
I pushed past them, my eyes fixed only on Jay. She looked so pale against the white sheets, but as I reached her side, her eyelids fluttered.
She looked at me, and even in her weakened state, those brown eyes were full of fire. I leaned down, hugging her with a desperation that made my own ribs ache, kissing her forehead. "I thought I lost you," I whispered, my voice thick.
Jay let out a weak, raspy breath. A small, lethal smirk played on her lips. "I'm not going to leave you easily, Watson. I have too many people to kill first."
I chuckled, a dark, relieved sound, just as Edrix and Rory burst in.
"Keifer," Edrix panted, his eyes dark. "It's Alveraze."
The temperature in the room plummeted. Jay's eyes went cold—not the cold of ice, but the cold of deep space. She looked at me, her voice a sharp scalpel.
"Keifer... I want him to regret his birth," she whispered. "Tell me... what are the consequences of touching your Queen?"
I looked at her, and a smirk that matched hers spread across my face. It was a look of pure, unadulterated malice. "Alveraze is already dead; he's just too stupid to stop breathing yet," I growled, my voice vibrating with a cold, murderous fury. "He didn't just stab a girl; he touched the only thing in this hellhole that keeps me human. I'm going to peel his sanity away layer by layer before I even let him bleed. I'll show him that being a Watson doesn't just mean I can build a school—it means I know exactly how to dismantle a human being."
I looked toward the ceiling, as if I could see Andrew Watson watching. "Tell my 'uncle' and that trembling bitch Violet to watch closely. They wanted to see what their 'failed batches' could do? I'm going to turn their ballroom into a slaughterhouse, and I'll use Alveraze's blood to sign the eviction notice."
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Ace's POV
I stood by the window, watching the smudge of Jay's blood on my own cuff. Seeing her on that table, the life leaking out of her, had triggered a primal rage I usually kept locked behind the "Supremo" persona.
But seeing her smirk when Alveraze's name was mentioned? That made me swell with a different kind of intensity. She was a warrior. My pride in her was a physical thing, standing side-by-side with my fury.
"Raze. Mia. Stay here with Jay," I commanded, my voice dropping to a frequency that made the nearby medical monitors glitch. "If anyone—and I mean anyone—so much as breathes near that door without my permission, kill them. Leave the bodies as a warning."
I turned toward the door, my knuckles turning white. "Alveraze thinks he's a player? He's a bug on the windshield. I'm going to make sure his death is so loud that Andrew Watson hears it in his dreams. You don't just bleed a member of this circle and expect to keep your skin. Tonight, the Supremo goes hunting, and I'm not bringing back any prisoners."
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Zein's POV
I was sitting beside Jay. All I could feel was the tightening of my heart every time Jay gasped in her sleep.
Seeing her hurt was the final straw. We had been experimented on, tortured, and hunted, but this... this was personal.
"He made a mistake," I said, my voice echoing through the sterile room like a funeral bell. "Alveraze thought hurting Jay would break us. He forgot that a wounded wolf is the most dangerous."
I stood up, smoothing my dress, my eyes fixing on the door. "I have decided one thing tonight. This will be the last mistake Alveraze ever makes. I will not just kill him. I will dismantle his legacy. I will show the administration that they didn't create 'failed batches'—they created their own executioners. Game on? No. Game over."
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Percy's POV
I looked at Jay—my "baby sistah." She looked so small in that bed, but the aura coming off her was more terrifying than the Administrator himself.
The rage I felt was a white-hot explosion in my skull. I didn't care about the Gala. I didn't care about the "disposal" protocol.
"They touched her," I whispered, my fists clenching until my nails drew blood from my own palms. "They touched my sister. I don't care about the 'disposal' protocol or the Gala rules. I'm going to find Alveraze, and I'm going to show him exactly what happens when you make a brother watch his sister bleed. I'm going to break every bone in his body until he can't even find the breath to beg for mercy ."
I looked at Keifer and Ace. The three of us—Jay's brother and love.
"Lead the way," I growled. "I want to hear him beg."
We moved as one, a pack of wolves leaving the den. The music was still playing downstairs, but the real party was about to begin in the North Hall. And it was going to be written in blood.
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A/N: The Hunt Begins 🥂🩸
The "Gala" has officially turned into a hunting ground. The students aren't the prey anymore—they are the executioners. Keifer, Ace, and Percy are out for blood, and Alveraze has nowhere to hide.
Target for next chapter : 30+ comment