Chapter 5: Yolo

Steffy took a deep breath, the memory of fear etched on the girls' faces flashing in her mind. A smirk tugged at her lips as she relished the intoxicating rush of power.

"So, this is what it feels like to be feared."

For the first time, she understood why her father prized power above all else. With it, the world bent to her will. But as she sat on the library rooftop, waiting to make her next move, the memory of her father's stern instructions from that morning crept in. Her smirk faded.

"Finish the target, Steffy. The Brotherhood doesn't tolerate delays."

She clicked her tongue in frustration. Lucio Hernandez had been surprisingly elusive, his public persona starkly different from what she'd been led to expect. And despite herself, she couldn't help but notice—he was irritatingly handsome.

"Too bad he's going to die," she muttered, chuckling under her breath.

"You always talk to yourself like that?"

The sudden voice jolted her. Steffy spun around, instincts kicking in as she dropped into a fighting stance. But when her eyes met the intruder's, she froze.

He was grinning—a mix of surprise and intrigue lighting up his face.

"Oh! You're the new girl. Sorry, Miss Blonde, I didn't mean to scare you."

Steffy narrowed her eyes. "What did you just call me?"

The boy stepped back, hands raised in mock surrender. "Your hair's blonde; I don't know your name—simple math."

She sized him up: skinny, glasses, braces, and a perfectly tucked-in uniform. He screamed harmlessly. Still, her annoyance simmered as she turned to leave.

"Wait, Miss Blonde—" he grabbed her arm.

She yanked it free, glaring. "Don't touch me. And stop calling me that. It's Steffy."

"Alright—alright, no need to be so feisty. I'm Yolo, by the way," he said, extending his hand.

Steffy only stared at his outstretched hand.

"Okay, not the friendly type," the guy muttered. "So," Yolo continued, sitting on the rooftop's edge, "you like my secret spot? Best hangout in school, though technically off-limits."

Steffy raised an eyebrow. "If it's off-limits, why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, grinning.

Steffy sighed, sitting beside him. The view was peaceful, and she hated to admit he wasn't entirely unbearable.

"I like being alone. Or at least, I did until you ruined it."

They sat silently for a moment; the school spread out below them. It was far smaller than the elite Academy she'd attended last year, where every lesson—whether in combat or business—was designed to groom her as her father's successor.

"You know," Yolo said, breaking her thoughts, "there's something… off about you."

Her gaze snapped to him, sharp as a blade. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He hesitated, then smirked. "I know what you did to Charlotte and her friends."

Steffy's blood ran cold. In a flash, she had him pinned to the ground, her fist hovering above his face. "What else do you know about me?"

"Whoa! Relax, Miss Blonde—er, Steffy! I'm not your enemy!" he stammered, hands raised.

"Talk, or I'll throw you off this roof," she hissed.

"Okay, okay!" he blurted. "I saw you in the locker room. You, uh… let's say you gave those bullies a makeover they'll never forget. That's just it, I swear!"

Steffy stared at him for a long moment before releasing her grip. "Keep your mouth shut," she warned, her voice low and cold.

"Don't worry," Yolo said, sitting up and brushing off his uniform. "I'm not a snitch. I'm a fan, actually. Where'd you learn those moves?"

"Shut up," she snapped, but his goofy grin didn't falter

"Seriously," he said, hands in his pockets. "I won't tell anyone. But… can we be friends?"

The question caught her off guard. Friends? She didn't have time for attachments. Not here. Not with a mission hanging over her head.

Lighting a cigarette, she let the question hang in the air as she stared at the mysterious boy.

Later that day, Steffy recounted the encounter to George during the drive home. "I met this idiot on the library rooftop," she said, exhaling smoke. "He wants to be my friend."

George chuckled, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. "Does making friends bother you, Miss?"

"It does," she admitted quietly. "The hardest part isn't killing the target—it's leaving behind anyone I connect with. It's easier to stay detached."

"Then take your father's advice," George said bluntly. "Eliminate the target and move on. No loose ends."

"It's not that easy. I still have to make sure that I anticipate his moves. I need to stalk him and observe him for a while. I cannot take this mission lightly."

Steffy turned to the window, watching the trees blur past. But, George was right. The sooner Lucio was dead, the sooner she could leave this place. And yet, Yolo's face lingered in her thoughts.

"Something about that guy feels… familiar," she murmured.

"Be careful, Miss. He might not be just some random kid. These days, trust no one—not with your position."

Steffy nodded, her fingers brushing the hilt of the dagger hidden beneath her jacket. George was right again. She came here for the mission, and she would do exactly that.