Chapter Seven

Dara's phone slipped from her hands and clattered to the floor. The sound echoed in the silence of her dorm room, but she barely noticed. The words on the screen haunted her: You're in over your head.

She stared at the message, heart pounding, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The sender's number was unrecognizable, just a string of digits that gave away nothing. Her first instinct was to delete the message, to pretend it didn't exist. But she couldn't ignore it, not after the note on her door, not after everything.

Grabbing her phone, she typed back a single word: Who?

The screen stays blank for several long moments before the familiar three dots appear, indicating the sender was typing. A chill ran down her spine as she waited, her nerves fraying with every passing second. Finally, the reply appeared.

Someone who knows the truth.

Dara's pulse raced. What truth? she typed back. She hit send and stared at the screen, willing it to light up again. But nothing came. The dots didn't reappear, and the silence in her room felt suffocating.

She dropped the phone onto her desk and buried her face in her hands. What truth? What did they mean? Her thoughts spiraled into the worst-case scenarios. Could this have something to do with Christian, Jackson, or Kim? Or was it someone else entirely?

The next morning, Dara moved through her classes in a haze. The cryptic message replayed in her mind like a broken record. She avoided the cafeteria, instead eating a sandwich in the corner of the library where she hoped no one would find her. But as the hours dragged on, her paranoia grew. Every whisper, every laugh, felt like it was directed at her.

When her final lecture ended, she stayed behind, letting the rest of the students file out. The professor was packing up his materials when Dara approached.

"Excuse me, Professor Greene," she said, her voice hesitant.

He looked up, his expression kind but distracted. "Yes, Dara? What can I do for you?"

"I just—" She paused, unsure how to phrase her question without sounding paranoid. "Have you ever heard rumors about certain students here? Ones that seem... dangerous?"

Professor Greene frowned, his brow furrowing. "Dangerous? I'm not sure I follow."

Dara hesitated. "Like they're involved in things they shouldn't be. Secretive things."

The professor's gaze softened, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. "Dara, universities always have rumors. Some are based on truth, but most are just stories people tell to pass the time. Are you worried about someone in particular?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, it's nothing. Sorry for bothering you."

Professor Greene gave her a small smile. "If there's ever anything you need to talk about, my door is open. Be careful, though. Curiosity can sometimes lead us down dangerous paths."

His words struck a chord, and Dara left the lecture hall feeling no closer to answers but more certain of one thing: she had to tread carefully.

That evening, as Dara walked back to her dorm, she spotted Kim leaning against a lamppost near the library. Her steps faltered, and she considered turning around, but he noticed her and pushed off the post, walking toward her with a casual stride.

"Hey," he called, his voice warm but cautious.

She crossed her arms as he approached. "Why can't you leave me alone Kim?"

He stopped a few feet away, studying her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. "Are you okay? You've seemed... distracted lately."

Dara bristled. "I'm fine. And even if I wasn't, it's none of your business."

Kim sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're making this harder than it has to be. I'm trying to look out for you."

"I don't need you to look out for me," she snapped. "I need you to leave me alone."

For a moment, Kim's mask slipped, and Dara saw something raw and unguarded in his expression. "You think you've got this figured out, don't you? That you can just keep your head down and everything will be fine."

"I don't need your riddles, Kim," she said, her voice firm. "If you know something, just say it."

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. "I can't. Not yet."

"Then stay out of my way," she said, brushing past him.

Kim didn't follow her, but his voice stopped her in her tracks. "They're not going to stop, Dara. And the more you resist, the worse it'll get."

Her stomach churned, but she didn't turn back. She forced herself to keep walking, even as her heart screamed at her to demand answers.

Later that night, Dara found herself staring at the note she'd shoved in her drawer. They're not what they seem. Be careful.

She thought of Kim's warning, of the cryptic text message. The pieces of the puzzle were there, but they refused to fit together. She grabbed her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she reached Chloe's name. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pressed call.

"Hey," Chloe answered, her voice bright. "What's up?"

"Do you know anything about... Kim?" Dara asked, trying to sound casual.

Chloe hesitated. "Why? Did he do something?"

"No, I just... I don't know what to think about him," Dara admitted. "Or Christian and Jackson. They're all... strange."

Chloe sighed. "Dara, I told you to steer clear of them. They're bad news. Everyone knows it, but no one talks about it because they're scared."

"Scared of what?"

"I don't know exactly," Chloe said. "But there are rumors. People say they've done things—things that go way beyond partying and skipping classes. Dangerous things."

Dara's grip on the phone tightened. "Like what?"

"Just be careful," Chloe said, her voice somber. "Don't get too close to any of them. Promise me."

"I promise," she said, but as she ended the call, she wasn't sure if it was a promise she could keep.

The shadows around her were growing, and the more she tried to avoid them, the closer they seemed to creep.