The morning sun sliced through the school's wide glass windows, scattering brilliant streaks of light across the polished floor. Students crowded the hallway, voices rising and falling in an electric hum, the tension palpable even among the usually indifferent. Lottie stood just beyond the main bulletin board, her breath catching faintly as her eyes flicked to the topmost name.
There it was.
Lottie Whitaker.
First place.
The words burned into her mind like a brand, sending a ripple of sensation down her spine. A wave of murmurs swept the crowd, the air crackling as if it had just been struck by lightning.
"Is that… Lottie?" a girl whispered, half in awe, half in disbelief.
"I didn't even know she was aiming for the top," another voice breathed. "How did Evelyn lose this?"
Lottie inhaled slowly, letting the cool air steady the racing of her pulse. Her fingers, light on the strap of her bag, curled slightly, nails grazing the fabric. She could feel the giddy rush rising in her chest, a champagne bubble of triumph just beneath her ribs—but she pressed it down, smoothing her features into a careful calm, even as the whispers slid across her skin like phantom fingers.
Beside her, Leo whistled low under his breath, his grin unmistakably genuine as he nudged her shoulder. "Well, well, Queen of the leaderboard," he murmured, eyes flicking over the crowd with amused sharpness. His breath was warm against her ear, the lazy humor in his voice a welcome contrast to the crackling tension around them. "Didn't think you'd go this far under the radar."
Lottie tilted her head slightly, a faint, almost secretive smile brushing her lips. "Neither did they," she murmured back, voice low, the words slipping like silk between them. Her pulse thrummed at the base of her throat, the adrenaline bright and electric, even as she forced her shoulders to stay loose.
Across the hallway, Amy hovered like a moth drawn to a flame, her fingers fidgeting at the hem of her sweater. Her wide eyes darted from the board to Lottie, guilt and hesitation flickering in her expression like a candle in a draft. When their gazes brushed, Amy's breath hitched, her lips parting on a soundless word—but she hesitated, her hands tightening into knots, fingers twisting until the skin blanched.
"Congratulations!" a voice rang out, sharp and bright, and Lottie turned to find one of the teachers striding toward her, a broad smile lighting his face. "Lottie, truly remarkable work. You've set a new standard."
Others soon followed, their praise weaving into the rising noise. Fingers patted her shoulder, hands clasped hers briefly in congratulations, voices chimed in—some sincere, some edged with envy, others tinged with calculated admiration. Lottie accepted it all with a composed nod, her heart thudding like a war drum beneath the still surface, each thump echoing in her ears as if time itself had slowed.
"Did you know this was coming?" one of the girls from her class asked breathlessly, eyes shining as if drawn to a rising star.
"I just did my best," Lottie answered softly, the practiced humility sliding into place even as a pulse of satisfaction thrummed deep inside her. She could feel the stares crawling across her skin like sunlight filtering through blinds—hot, sharp, and unrelenting.
From the corners of the crowd, Evelyn's old circle hovered, their tight, brittle smiles fraying at the edges. A few exchanged nervous glances, whispers darting between them like sharp-edged fish. The absence of their queen was a gaping void in their ranks, casting a long shadow over the morning's celebration.
Leo leaned in again, his breath a subtle warmth at her ear. "Careful," he murmured, his voice threaded with amusement and warning alike. "You're drawing blood just by standing here."
Lottie's fingers brushed over her phone as it buzzed in her pocket, the sensation a subtle tremor against her thigh. Slipping it free with practiced ease, she glanced at the screen.
Mason:Well played. Keep your head. The real game begins now.
A faint smile flickered at the corner of her mouth, swift as a heartbeat, gone before anyone could name it. She tucked the phone away, rolling her shoulders back as if shrugging off the weight of the moment, feeling the tension in her muscles loosen just slightly, the air cool against the nape of her neck.
"Gonna let it get to your head?" Leo teased softly, but there was a gleam of something sharper in his eyes—approval, tempered with a flicker of challenge.
"I don't have time for that," Lottie murmured, her gaze sliding over the shifting sea of faces. Beneath the thrill, beneath the crisp edge of triumph, a quiet voice stirred in her chest, cool and steady: Power is a weapon. Use it wisely.
Amy edged closer, the hesitant shuffle of her steps a fragile sound in the rising clamor. "Lottie, I—" she began, voice small, trembling at the edges, but Lottie turned smoothly, her expression gentle but distant.
"Later, Amy," she said softly, not unkindly, the words threading between them like a delicate barrier. "You'll have to decide where you stand."
Amy's face crumpled for a heartbeat, lips parting, fingers twisting—and then she stepped back, swallowed by the restless tide of students. Her eyes shimmered with something fragile, the air trembling faintly around her like a bubble on the verge of bursting.
As the teachers moved to post official commendations and announcements, the crowd surged, eager voices layering over one another in a rising tide. Classmates angled closer, their words tumbling over each other.
"I knew you were smart, but this—"
"You'll be at the top of everything now!"
"Hey, maybe you can tutor me next term…"
Their faces blurred into a tapestry of open admiration, veiled envy, hungry curiosity. Lottie's pulse fluttered, a bird's wing against her throat, but outwardly she remained poised, serene. A thrill licked up her spine, quick and bright—but she pressed it beneath the cool surface of her smile. Her fingers flexed briefly at her side, the ghost of a tremble there before it vanished into stillness.
From across the hall, Evelyn's absence yawned like an open wound, a reminder threaded with both warning and promise. The space where she should have stood—regal, untouchable, the center of gravity—was hollow now, a vacuum that tugged at the edge of every glance, every whisper. And the air smelled faintly of something scorched, like the aftertaste of a lightning strike.
"She's going to come back swinging," Leo murmured near her shoulder, his voice low, intimate, edged with quiet laughter. "You know that, right?"
"I'm counting on it," Lottie replied softly, her gaze never wavering from the crowd. Her fingers curled briefly, the weight of anticipation coiling hot and sharp in her chest, like the hush before a storm.
As the throng slowly dispersed, Lottie made her way toward the courtyard, the sunlight slicing across the flagstones in sharp, golden shards. The cool breeze lifted strands of her hair, teasing them against her cheek as she drew in a breath that tasted of grass and distant honeysuckle. For a moment, she allowed herself to savor it—the weightless drift of success, the hum of possibility dancing at the edge of her skin. The air shimmered faintly around her, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Her phone buzzed again. Another message.
Mason:Eyes forward. Evelyn's not gone.
Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, the words sinking in like a stone in a still pond. The ripples spread outward, sharpening her focus, pulling the edges of her mind taut.
Leo stepped up beside her, his silhouette long and easy in the sunlight. "Well, Captain," he drawled, his grin tilting sly, "what's next on the war map?"
Lottie's lips curved, faint and knowing. "We keep walking," she murmured, the words laced with a quiet steel. "We let them chase."
Leo huffed a soft laugh, a flicker of approval in his eyes as he matched her stride. His fingers brushed briefly against her sleeve, a touch so light it barely registered, but it anchored her all the same.
As they stepped onto the sunlit path, a hush fell like a held breath—and in the shadowed archway beyond, a figure lingered.
Evelyn.
Her arms crossed, her posture razor-straight, eyes cold as winter glass. No words crossed the distance between them, but the message was clear, etched into every line of her stance. Her gaze was a blade, honed and waiting, glinting with the promise of retribution.
Lottie's fingers curled slightly at her side, a rush of heat under her skin. She could feel the tension spike around her, feel Leo still beside her, the smallest flicker of movement at his shoulder. Her heart knocked once, sharp and sure against her ribs, then steadied into a deliberate rhythm.
And then—slow, deliberate—Lottie turned her head, met Evelyn's gaze across the space, and let the faintest ghost of a smile touch her lips.
No retreat.
No apology.
Only the silent promise of the next storm.