The silence between the warnings

The morning light spilled across Aurora High like everything was normal.

It wasn't.

Sera knew something was wrong the second she opened her private comm app and saw nothing.

No encrypted message.

No sarcastic taunt.

No coded update.

**Red Widow was silent.**

That had never happened.

Not once.

Sera tried to brush it off. She told herself Red was probably ghost-running a deeper dive.

But the silence stretched.

Past breakfast.

Past mid-morning lectures.

Past the part of the day when Sera could pretend she wasn't worried.

Now, it was 11:07 AM.

And her fingers tapped a rhythm against her thigh — a habit she'd kicked years ago, in therapy she never admitted to.

She stood from her desk in the private library wing and walked out without a word. Her heels struck marble like war drums.

She wasn't going to panic.

She was going to check the East Wing.

Because if anyone would hide there, it would be Red Widow.

The halls were colder there. The air felt… forgotten.

She passed a locked display case. Then another.

And then she saw it — something no one else would've noticed.

**A drop of oil on the floor.**

She crouched, touched it.

Not oil. Lubricant. For tech.

**Widow's brand.**

Sera's heartbeat sharpened.

She followed the droplets to a rusted door barely cracked open.

The inside smelled of old paper and power.

She stepped in.

**Empty.**

But on the floor…

A single drive.

Marked only with Widow's spider emblem — broken in half.

Sera picked it up.

**Cold. Dead. Threatening.**

A whisper of warning left her lips:

> "Whoever took her… thinks I'm blind without her."

She clenched the drive in her hand.

But they'd made a mistake.

> "I was never just a player," she hissed, eyes lit with rage.

> "I built this damn board."

And now?

She was going to find the ones watching.

And flip the game upside down