Chapter 6: B7

Rule #6: If curiosity killed the cat, I was already on my ninth life.

The card burned in my palm all day.

Every time I glanced at it, my brain screamed: Don't.

So of course, I planned to.

It wasn't like I had answers anywhere else. Just a phone full of ghost texts, a past clawing its way back, and a boy who handed out cryptic keycards like party favors.

I waited until the halls were quiet.

After final bell, after cheer tryouts, after the drama kids finished arguing about lighting.

That kind of quiet.

Then I followed the signs.

Down the west wing. Past the library. Past the staff offices.

Until I found it.

An old maintenance elevator—dusty, scratched, half-hidden behind a janitor's cart.

Card slot beside it. Red light blinking.

I slid the keycard in.

Beep.

The light turned green.

The elevator groaned open like it hadn't been touched in years.

This is stupid, I thought. Insane.

I stepped in anyway.

The doors creaked shut.

No buttons inside—just one.

B7.

I pressed it.

The descent felt slow and too fast at the same time. My breath caught somewhere between my ribs. The elevator hummed. Shook. Dropped.

Then—ding.

The doors slid open into darkness.

I stepped out.

The air was colder down here. Stale. Heavy.

Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, one buzzing louder than the rest. The hall stretched in both directions—empty. Silent.

And then I heard it.

A voice.

Two, actually.

I followed the sound, heartbeat in my throat, feet silent against the concrete.

"…don't care what she knows. Just watch her."

That voice. I knew it. I knew it.

"…and Killian?"

A pause.

Then: "He's too close. Handle it."

My blood turned to ice.

I stepped back—too fast. My shoe scraped the floor.

Silence.

"Did you hear that?"

Footsteps.

I turned and ran.

Down the hall, back to the elevator—but it was closing.

"No, no, no—"

I jammed the keycard in again.

The doors stopped.

I dove inside, hit the button.

Beep. Ding. Whir.

The elevator rose.

My lungs were on fire.

Who were they watching me for? What did they mean, "Handle it"? And Killian—was he part of this?

Or about to be taken out of it?

I didn't know. But I knew one thing:

Ridgeview had layers. And I just fell into the deepest one yet.

And I wasn't alone.