Chapter 19

Milo uncapped a marker with his teeth, his other hand steadying the whiteboard as he scrawled names across its glossy surface. Ashton and Luke sat on the couch, watching in silence as he listed every victim Emia had exposed so far.

Mel. Parker. Rebecca. Ashton. Luke.

Milo leaned back, tapping the marker against his palm. "We've been looking at this all wrong," he said. "These attacks—they're not random."

Ashton scoffed, arms crossed. "Yeah? Then what are they?"

Milo ignored the irritation in his voice and circled Parker's name. "Let's start with Parker. He got sent that video—one that no one else had. We assumed it was because he was looking into Emia, but…" His voice trailed off, his gaze flickering toward Luke.

Luke swallowed hard. "But Parker wasn't tracking anything," he murmured. "He never was. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Ashton's eyes darkened. "No," he muttered. "Not wrong place—wrong person."

Milo turned toward him. "What do you mean?"

Ashton exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His mind was moving too fast, threads tying together in ways he hadn't noticed before. "Parker wasn't just some unlucky guy who stumbled onto Emia. He was surrounded by people who got targeted." He gestured at the board. "Mel. Rebecca. And now us."

Luke leaned forward, tension creeping into his voice. "Are you saying Emia targeted Parker because of the people around him?"

A heavy silence followed.

Milo capped the marker, staring at the names. "Then we're missing something."

They sat there, the weight of it sinking in.

Ashton let out a breath and muttered, "It doesn't matter. Even if we figure out the pattern, what's stopping Emia from ruining the next person on the list? We don't have proof. We don't even know why they're doing this."

Milo slammed the marker onto the coffee table, frustration flickering across his face. "So what? You're just gonna sit here and let it happen?" He gestured toward the whiteboard. "How many more people need to end up in the hospital before we do something?"

Ashton's jaw clenched. "I don't care about anyone else ending up in the hospital." His voice was low, bitter. "Because the people I care about are already there."

Silence.

Milo's hands curled into fists at his sides, his voice barely above a whisper. "What about me?"

Ashton flinched.

"I'm still here," Milo continued, his tone raw, stripped bare. "I'm the only one left. Do I not matter either?"

The words hit heavier than intended, and for the first time, Ashton didn't have a response. 

This whole conversation felt like deja vu, they all thought. 

Luke let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over his face. "So what about Parker's phone? Can we get it to your dad and have him run a reverse trace?"

Milo's jaw tightened. "I thought about that, but when I looked through Parker's phone, the app Rebecca said she downloaded is gone. Not just uninstalled—completely erased. No history, no traces."

Ashton, who had been silent for most of the conversation, finally spoke up. "So either Rebecca is lying, or Emia covered their tracks." 

Then Luke's brows furrowed, something clicking into place. "Wait," he said suddenly. "There are more. Remember Jessica, David, and Alex? At the beginning of the school year?"

Milo froze, marker hovering in midair.

Ashton's expression tightened. "Shit."

Luke nodded. "Jessica got exposed for having a disease. David got the disease from his boyfriend of three years, Alex…" His voice trailed off for a second before he forced himself to finish. "Alex's ended up in the hospital."

Milo quickly scrawled their names on the board, stepping back as the pattern became clearer. "That was when Emia posted again after taking a break," he muttered. "We thought they were just random scandals."

"But they weren't," Ashton said, jaw tight. "They were just the first wave."

Luke's shoulders tensed, his gaze locked onto the board. "We've been acting like this started with Parker, with Mel—but Emia's been playing this game a lot longer than we thought." 

Luke's gaze drifted back to the whiteboard, his mind racing. The pieces were right in front of them, scattered and incomplete, but they were starting to fit together in a way they hadn't before.

Milo sighed, dropping onto the couch. "Are you coming to school tomorrow?" His voice was softer this time. "If not, I'll stay here until you two are ready."

Neither Ashton nor Luke answered.

Instead, the three of them sat there, staring at the board, at the half-formed web of connections—just waiting for the final piece to fall into place.