Chapter 21: Annex

The Gym Annex is a relic of the 1980s, a windowless brick box connected to the main athletic wing by a narrow, drafty corridor. It’s where the school keeps the broken bleachers, the deflated dodgeballs, and the ghosts of old championships. Nobody comes here. The air is stagnant, heavy with the smell of floor wax and ancient dust.

I reach Locker 114. It’s tucked behind a stack of rusted weight racks. My hands are trembling so hard I can barely line the key up with the lock.

Click.

The door swings open with a low, metallic groan.

I expected more ledgers or maybe a stash of cash. I didn't expect a workstation. Inside the locker, Miller has mounted a tablet to the back wall, powered by a heavy-duty portable battery. It’s connected to a series of wireless receivers.

This is the hub.

I reach for the tablet, my breath hitching. The screen is live. It’s split into four quadrants, showing grainy, wide-angle feeds from around the school. My stomach turns as I recognize the locations.

The Locker Room Entry.

The Arts Building Basement Door.

The Library Alcove.

The Weight Room Office.

He wasn't just stalking us; he was broadcasting. I tap the file icon on the bottom of the screen, my heart hammering against my ribs. A folder labeled “Vance/Thorne” stares back at me. I open it, and there they are.

Dozens of video clips. The closet in the arts building. The whispered conversation in the weight room. And a folder marked “Bridge.” I click it. It’s not a photo. It’s a video. It shows the entire sequence—Jaxson pulling back my hood, the way his thumb traced my jaw, the agonizingly slow lean-in before the phone rang. From this angle, you can see my face clearly. You can see the look of absolute, terrifying devotion in my eyes.

"Looking for something?"

I scream, spinning around so fast I nearly knock the tablet off its mount.

Miller is standing in the doorway of the Annex. He looks like he’s aged ten years since lunch. His hair is disheveled, his shirt is untucked, and his eyes are bloodshot. But in his hand, he’s holding his own phone, and he’s pointing it right at me.

"You and Jaxson think you’re so smart," he rasps, stepping into the room. He kicks the door shut behind him, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the cramped space. "You think a few photos of a ledger are going to stop me? That money? That was for my sister's tuition. I’m not letting some charity case from the flats and a spoiled prince ruin that."

"You stole it, Miller," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, though my knees feel like they’re made of water. "You’re a thief and a blackmailer."

"And you’re a liability," Miller sneers. He moves closer, his shadow stretching across the floor. "Do you have any idea what happens to Jaxson’s 'golden boy' reputation if I upload that folder to the school’s main server? The scouts won't touch him. The Thorne name will be trash. And your brother? I’ve already preparer a draft for him."

"You won't do it," I say, my hand creeping toward the tablet behind me. "Because if you do, Jaxson hits send on the ledger. You’ll be in a cell before the video even finishes buffering."

Miller laughs, a jagged, hysterical sound. "I’m already ruined, Maya! That’s what you don't get! Once those photos hit my phone, I knew the game was up. If I’m going down, I’m taking the you and Jaxson with me. I’m going to burn this entire kingdom to the ground just to watch you two ash out."

He lunges for the tablet.

I don't think. I grab a heavy, rusted 5-pound dumbbell from the rack next to me and swing. It hits the tablet with a sickening crack, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of dead pixels.

"No!" Miller screams.

He grabs my wrists, his strength far greater than mine. He shoves me back against the lockers, the metal bruising my spine. "You think that was the only copy? It’s in the cloud, you stupid girl! All I have to do is tap one button on my phone!"

He raises his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. I close my eyes, waiting for the end. I think of Leo. I think of the bridge. I think of the way Jaxson looked at me before he shoved me in the weight room.

SLAM.

The Annex door doesn't just open; it leaves the hinges.

Jaxson Thorne is a blur of black and white varsity wool. He hits Miller like a freight train, the sheer force of the tackle sending them both crashing into a pile of deflated gym mats. The phone flies out of Miller’s hand, skidding across the floor toward the dark corner under the bleachers.

"Stay away from her!" Jaxson roars.

He pins Miller to the mat, his fist pulled back, his face contorted with a rage that makes my blood run cold.

"Jaxson, stop!" I scream, running toward them. "The phone! Get the phone!"

Miller is struggling, gasping for air, his hands clawing at Jaxson’s arms. "Do it, Thorne! Hit me! Let the coaches see that! It’ll make the video even better!"

Jaxson freezes. His fist is inches from Miller’s jaw. He’s shaking with the effort of not swinging. He looks at me, his eyes wild and dark, and then he looks at the phone lying three feet away.

I dive for it. I grab the device, my heart stopping as I see the screen is still lit. It’s a broadcast page. A "Go-Live" button is pulsing red.

“Ready to stream to 1,400 followers?”

My thumb hovers over the 'Delete' icon.

"Run, Maya!" Jaxson roars. "Run with the phone."

I don't hesitate. I sprint for the door, clutching the phone to my chest. I hear the scuffle behind me—the grunt of impact, the clatter of falling equipment. I burst out into the hallway, the cool air hitting my lungs, and keep running toward the side exit.

Jaxson is right behind me. He bursts through the doors, his varsity jacket torn at the shoulder, his face flushed with adrenaline. We don't look back until we reach the SUV.

"You haven't won!" Miller’s voice screams from the Annex door, sounding ragged and high-pitched with desperation. "You haven't won, Thorne! You can't take back what I've already seen! I’ll find you! I’ll destroy both of you!"