A THREAT?

The basketball court was alive with movement, voices overlapping in a chaotic yet familiar rhythm. Students strolled in pairs and small groups, some engaged in animated conversations, others simply enjoying the crisp afternoon air. A few sat scattered along the audience seats, their heads buried in books, occasionally looking up when the game became interesting. The rhythmic sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished wooden floor blended with the echo of the basketball bouncing, filling the air with an unspoken energy.

Near the entrance, three figures approached—Tasha, Lina, and Naomi.

Naomi clutched a thick storybook tightly against her chest, her fingers idly tracing the embossed title as she walked between her two friends. The book had been a comforting weight in her hands all day, a perfect escape from the monotony of classes.

"I still don't get how Mr. Greg's jokes manage to be so painfully unfunny yet still make everyone laugh," Naomi said, shaking her head in disbelief.

Lina scoffed, flipping her long braid over her shoulder. "Because half the class laughs out of fear. Have you seen the way he glares when no one reacts?"

Tasha let out a small chuckle. "Honestly, I think he enjoys watching us suffer through his lessons. The way he pauses after a joke, just waiting for at least one person to crack, is terrifying."

Their conversation continued as they neared the court, blending into the buzzing atmosphere. Naomi plopped onto the audience seat with her book, flipping it open with a content sigh, while Tasha and Lina leaned against the railing, turning their attention to the game.

Across the court, a group of boys huddled near the sidelines, their conversation shifting as their eyes landed on the three girls.

"Hey, isn't that the quiet girl from our literature class?" one of them nudged his friend, nodding toward Tasha.

"The one always with Lina and Naomi?" another chimed in, his brows raising slightly.

"Yeah, them. They stick together like glue," the first one muttered, smirking.

Their chatter faded, however, when the atmosphere changed.

The moment Alexander's eyes landed on Lina, his expression twisted, darkening like a brewing storm. The basketball in his grip tightened, knuckles whitening as the memory of Celeste's detention resurfaced in his mind.

His irritation had already been simmering, but seeing Lina so nonchalantly laughing and enjoying herself sent his temper over the edge. His lips curled in distaste as his grip on the ball tightened. Without another word, he turned back to the game, his movements becoming sharper, more aggressive.

Alexander was already an imposing figure—standing at nearly six feet, his physique was the result of years of relentless training. His shoulders were broad, his arms sculpted with lean muscle, and every movement he made carried an undeniable power. His dark hair, damp with sweat, clung slightly to his forehead, and his sharp jawline was tense with irritation.

The game resumed, but this time, Alexander played with a ferocity that wasn't just about winning. His dribbles were forceful, each bounce of the ball echoing with barely contained frustration. He weaved through defenders effortlessly, his speed a blur, his body moving with controlled aggression. Then, with a sudden burst of power, he lunged forward and slammed the ball into the hoop.

BAM!

The backboard rattled violently, the sound slicing through the air, drawing the attention of the onlookers. A low murmur rippled through the students.

As Alexander landed, he turned, his sharp glare locking onto Lina.

"You got some nerve showing your face here, brat," he sneered, wiping sweat off his brow. His voice dripped with hostility. "Still feeling good about snitching on Celeste?"

Lina, unfazed, crossed her arms and tilted her chin up. "She got herself into detention. Maybe next time, she should think before running her mouth."

Alexander scoffed, stepping forward. "Big talk for a nobody. You think you're tough? You're just a loudmouth with a death wish."

Lina's eyes flashed with defiance. "And you're just another meathead who thinks muscles make up for an empty skull."

The students watching gasped, whispers spreading through the crowd. No one ever spoke to Alexander like that.

Alexander's jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides. His temper flared, and in a heartbeat, he lunged forward, his arm swinging—

Before his fist could connect, a firm grip caught his wrist midair.

Collins.

The tension in the air crackled as the two boys locked eyes.

Collins' expression was calm, unreadable, but his hold on Alexander's wrist was solid, unwavering. "Not happening," he said simply, his voice carrying an unspoken warning.

Alexander's nostrils flared. For a moment, it seemed like he would shove Collins away and finish what he started. But after a tense pause, he yanked his arm free and scoffed. "Tch. Whatever." He turned sharply, stalking away, but not before muttering, "Watch yourself, Lina."

The crowd slowly dispersed, the tension lingering in the air.

Lina huffed, brushing off her sleeve like she had just swatted away an annoying bug. "What a joke."

Tasha exhaled, her heart still racing. But as she turned, her gaze landed on Collins, and suddenly—

Everything around her faded.

**********

One moment, she was standing on the bleachers. The next, she was in the middle of a vast rose farm.

The air was thick with the scent of fresh petals, the soft rustling of leaves whispering around her. The late afternoon sun bathed the field in golden hues, the sky painted in warm shades of orange and pink. Collins was beside her, his presence steady and familiar, his hand brushing against hers as they walked through the endless sea of red and pink roses.

"You always look good in red, you know?" Collins' voice was gentle, teasing.

Tasha felt her heart flutter, her cheeks warming.

She had liked Collins for a long time.

It had started back when she was still struggling to adjust to boarding school life. She had always been timid, always blending into the background. But Collins had noticed her.

She remembered that day clearly—she had been sitting under the old oak tree near the library, a book in her hands, lost in another world. She hadn't even realized someone had sat next to her until she heard the sound of a crunch.

Looking up, she had found Collins grinning at her, casually munching on one of the cookies from her lunchbox.

"That book must be real good," he had said, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement. "You didn't even notice me stealing your snacks."

Instead of getting angry, she had laughed.

From that moment on, she had watched him from afar—admiring how effortlessly he fit in, how kind he was to everyone. He was the type of person who could light up a room just by walking in. And now, standing beside him in her daydream, she felt that same quiet admiration swell in her chest.

But then—

A hand touched her shoulder.

Tasha snapped back to reality.

Collins stood in front of her, his brow slightly raised. "You okay?"

Tasha stiffened, realizing her face was warm—too warm.

Collins didn't press for an answer, simply flashing a small smile before turning away. As he walked off, Tasha let out a quiet breath, her heart still fluttering.

Then—

"Why's your face so red?"

Lina's voice was laced with mischief.

Naomi smirked, closing her book. "Oh, don't tell me… Were you daydreaming about someone?"

Tasha groaned, covering her face. "Shut up."

Lina and Naomi burst into laughter, their teasing relentless.

The earlier tension had completely melted away, replaced by the usual playfulness between friends.

The laughter of Tasha, Lina, and Naomi faded into the distance as they disappeared down the path leading back to the dormitories. The basketball court, still buzzing with students, no longer held the same energy it had moments ago. The game had slowed, players distracted by the lingering tension from Alexander's earlier confrontation.

Near the bleachers, Alexander stood with his inner circle—three boys who followed him like shadows, their loyalty bound by a mix of admiration and fear. The air around them was thick with unspoken words, their conversation low but heated.

"You let him punk you like that?" One of the boys, Mason, scoffed, arms crossed over his chest. "Seriously, Alexander? You were about to knock that girl out, and Collins stopped you just like that?"

"Yeah," another one, Troy, chimed in, shaking his head. "Not a good look, man. You're supposed to be the strongest in this school."

Alexander's jaw tightened, his fingers flexing at his sides. He didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the court, watching as a basketball rolled idly across the polished floor.

Then, the third boy, Devon, spoke, his voice lower, tinged with something closer to fear than mockery. "You don't get it."

Mason and Troy turned to him, frowning. "Get what?"

Devon hesitated, glancing around before lowering his voice further. "You weren't there when it happened… but I saw it. Last year, in the alley behind the gym. Collins—" He swallowed, as if the memory alone unsettled him. "He wrecked three seniors. By himself."

Mason snorted. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious." Devon's eyes darkened. "They were trying to jump some kid—don't know what for. Collins showed up, told them to leave. They laughed. One of them—Jake—took a swing at him." He paused, shaking his head. "Big mistake. I swear, Collins didn't even try. He dodged like it was nothing, then—boom." Devon mimicked a quick punch. "Jake hit the ground so fast, he didn't even have time to react. The other two?" Devon let out a breath. "One tried to run. Collins grabbed him—one hit to the stomach, and the guy collapsed. The last one? He didn't even touch him. Just looked at him. That was enough."

The group went silent.

Troy shifted uncomfortably. "You're saying he's some kind of freak?"

Devon didn't answer.

For a moment, the only sound was the distant chatter of other students. Then—

Alexander exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he turned to his minions, his voice dropping to a quiet, dangerous whisper.

"I don't care what happened before." He lifted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with something cold, something calculating. "Collins thinks he can step in my way? Let him. Let him believe he's untouchable."

He took a step forward, his voice sinking into a near growl. "I have a plan."

The others stiffened.

There was something in the way he said it—something that sent a shiver down Devon's spine.

Mason and Troy exchanged glances, the earlier bravado in their expressions dimming just slightly.

Alexander smirked, his gaze drifting toward the path where Tasha and her friends had gone.

"Let's see how long Collins can protect them."