Chapter 2

Zoe's POV

The deafening school bell completely obliterated my eardrums!

I shot up from the porch steps like a drowning victim pulled from the water, gasping frantically for air. Everything had reset to the exact moment I rushed out of the academic building.

A burning, stinging pain suddenly flared on my left forearm. I rolled up my sleeve and inhaled sharply—on my pale skin, a blood-red number clearly burned into view:

[2].

A countdown?!

Before I could even process it, the sound of high heels approached from the bottom of the steps. The same steps, the same chilling tone, even the opening line was word-for-word identical:

"If you're thinking about going to the principal's office tomorrow morning to submit that report against Luke, I suggest you swallow—"

Just like last time, she reached out to grab my arm.

"Don't touch me!"

Like a stray cat with its tail stepped on, I screamed, slapped her hand away, and stumbled backward.

"Zoe! Have you lost your mind?" Grace looked at her reddened hand in disbelief.

"Stop trying to guilt-trip me! I am absolutely not walking down that damn dark path by the track!" My chest heaved. Ghost pains still stung my throat where the blade had sliced. My voice trembled violently. "You want to trick me into the woods? Dream on! I'm going back to the dorm!"

Lingering boarding students in the lobby immediately turned their heads to cast glances at us.

Grace's eyes instantly darkened. But, quickly scanning the area, she took a deep breath and forced her rage back beneath her flawless skin.

Since playing rough wouldn't work, she seamlessly switched tactics.

"Zoe, your emotions are running way too high right now," she sighed, her shoulders slumping, feigning exhaustion and helplessness. "But could you at least do Luke a favor? He left his textbook in the equipment room under the gym bleachers. No matter how much you hate him, he's still your brother. Mr. Henderson is checking notes tomorrow morning, and if Luke misses it, his suspension will take effect immediately!"

I froze in my tracks.

"I have to go do bed checks, I can't leave," Grace stepped behind me, her voice dropping to a low hiss, like a viper flicking its tongue by my ear. "The equipment room is right on the main path. Go get his book for him."

I turned around and stared at my mother as if looking at a monster.

Last time I died on the track path—it was pitch black, a perfect ambush site.

"Fine," I heard my own icy voice reply. "But this is the last time."

"Make it quick. It's in the white metal locker all the way in the back," Grace patted my shoulder, sounding relieved.

But in that split second, I clearly caught the flash of vicious intent deep in her eyes.

I gripped my backpack straps and headed down the main path. The streetlights stretched my shadow out long, and in the distance, I could see the flashlights of the security patrol.

Everything looked perfectly safe.

Five minutes later, I pushed open the heavy steel fire door to the gym's annex.

The equipment room smelled of pine rosin, floor wax, and decades of old sweat. The pale fluorescent lights overhead buzzed. I wove through piles of football gear and walked straight to the white metal locker at the very back.

The door was ajar. It was completely empty inside.

A deafening bang echoed behind me.

My heart shrank. I whipped around—the heavy steel fire door had just been slammed dead-bolted from the outside!

"Open the door! Mom! I know you're out there!" I threw myself at it like a maniac, pounding my fists hopelessly against the steel. "Let me out! You crazy bitch!"

Dead silence answered from the outside. Not even a footstep.

Right then, from the other end of the equipment room, came the sound of keys turning.

A massive, nearly six-foot-three silhouette blocked out the narrow slice of light.

"It’s you..." I backed up against the freezing steel door with nowhere left to run. My blood turned to ice. "You're the one who killed me in the woods! My mom tricked me here just so you could lock the door?!"

"Don't sound so harsh, Zoe. Grace is a good mother." The masked man casually tossed a serrated combat knife onto a metal vaulting horse. The metallic clink set my teeth on edge. "Luke is the best quarterback I've coached in ten years. As long as he leads the team to the State Championship next month, the school secures three million dollars in alumni donations."

He stepped closer, the flesh on his face twitching slightly with sick excitement.

"But you just had to write that real-name whistleblower report."

I grabbed a solid baseball bat from a rack and swung for his head with everything I had. But he simply raised a thick forearm, taking the blow head-on. The violent recoil tore the skin between my thumb and index finger, sending the bat flying out of my grip.

Before I could even scream in pain, his calloused hand clamped around my throat, lifting my entire body straight off the ground and pinning me against the wall.

My oxygen was entirely cut off. My eyes rolled back, and my legs kicked pointlessly in the air.

Boundless darkness swallowed me whole for the second time.