Chapter 28 Blackmail

Chapter 28 Blackmail


The first note should have been enough to scare me off. A warning, clear and simple. But Blackridge doesn’t operate in warnings—it operates in weapons. And tonight, I’m the one with a knife at my throat.

The second note comes folded and tucked neatly into my history textbook. I find it when I open the book to take notes, the paper sliding out and landing on my desk. My pulse spikes before I even unfold it, because I already know what it’ll say.

Hand it over. Or everyone learns who you really are.

The tape. The flash drive sitting hidden inside my desk drawer under a false bottom I built myself. Proof of Noah, proof of Jace, proof of everything. Whoever’s pulling the strings knows I have it.

My throat tightens. Around me, class drones on. The teacher’s chalk squeaks across the board. Students yawn, scribble, pass notes of their own. No one sees me freeze, no one notices the world narrowing to a single sentence scrawled in sharp ink.

Hand it over. Or else.

I crumple the note and shove it deep into my pocket, forcing my face blank. But inside, panic is clawing up my ribs.

If they expose me, if they tell the truth about Ava Carter, about Noah, about everything—my cover’s gone. The mission’s over. And worse, Jace will know.

My hands shake for the rest of class.

By the time the bell rings, I’ve already made my decision.

I can’t do this alone anymore.

That’s how I find myself walking across the quad at dusk, heart in my throat, searching for the one person I swore I’d never trust again. Jace Langston.

He’s leaning against the low stone wall near the gym, phone in hand, looking like he owns the night sky. His hair falls perfectly out of place, his uniform shirt half-unbuttoned like he couldn’t care less about rules. Students pass by, glancing at him with awe, fear, longing. He doesn’t notice any of it—he notices me.

His gaze locks on mine the moment I step into view.

My stomach twists.

“Well, well,” he drawls, slipping his phone into his pocket. “The ghost finally decides to haunt me in daylight.”

“Don’t,” I snap. I don’t have the energy for his games. “I need to talk.”

His smirk fades just slightly, replaced by something sharper. “That sounds serious.”

“It is.”

I glance around, making sure no one’s close enough to overhear, then lower my voice. “Someone knows. About me. About Noah. About everything.”

That gets his attention. His easy posture straightens, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, knows?”

I pull the crumpled note from my pocket and shove it at him. He unfolds it, scans the words, and for once doesn’t mask his reaction. His jaw tightens. His knuckles whiten on the paper.

“Blackmail,” he mutters.

“Yes.” My voice cracks despite myself. “They want the tape. The one with Noah. They said if I don’t hand it over, they’ll expose me.”

His gaze snaps to mine. “What tape?”

I hesitate. Every instinct screams not to trust him. But I’ve already made the choice coming here. The secret’s too heavy to keep.

“There’s footage,” I say. “From the night Noah disappeared. He was with you.”

Jace goes utterly still. For a heartbeat, he doesn’t even breathe. Then he says, softly but dangerously, “Show me.”

I shake my head. “It’s too risky.”

“You think I’d hurt you for it?” His voice cuts like glass.

“I don’t know what you’d do,” I whisper. “That’s the problem.”

The silence between us stretches taut, ready to snap. Finally, Jace exhales slowly, shoving the note back into my hand.

“Fine. Don’t show me. But whoever sent this—they’re not bluffing. Blackridge doesn’t bluff.” He rakes a hand through his hair, eyes flashing with something I can’t read. “And if they know about you, Ava—if they know your real name—you’re already in more danger than you realize.”

The sound of my real name in his mouth makes my chest ache.

“Then help me,” I say, almost pleading. “I can’t fight this alone.”

His eyes soften just a fraction, the anger giving way to something rawer. “You trust me now?”

“I don’t have a choice,” I admit.

His smirk returns, but it’s bitter, jagged. “That’s not the same thing.”

We fall into uneasy silence, the kind that feels like standing on opposite sides of a cracked bridge. One wrong step and it all collapses.

Finally, he straightens, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Alright. You want help? You’ve got it. But this is my condition—no more lies. If we’re doing this, you tell me everything. No running, no dodging. Deal?”

My pulse skitters. He doesn’t know how impossible that is.

But the note in my pocket burns hot, reminding me of the choice I don’t get to make.

“Deal,” I say, though the word tastes like betrayal on my tongue.

Jace studies me, like he can see straight through the lie. But instead of calling me out, he just nods once, sharp.

“Good. Then first rule—you don’t go anywhere alone. Whoever’s behind this, they’re already close enough to slip notes into your locker, your books. That means they’re watching. We can’t give them another opening.”

We. The word jars me.

I nod anyway.

“Second rule,” he continues, voice low. “You don’t hand over the tape. Not until we know who’s asking for it. You give it up now, you lose leverage. And once you lose leverage at Blackridge, you’re finished.”

I clutch the note tighter, my palms damp. “What if they expose me first?”

He steps closer, close enough that the night air hums between us. His eyes pin me in place. “Then they’ll have to go through me.”

My chest tightens, the words hitting harder than I want them to.

For a moment, standing there under the glow of the courtyard lights, it almost feels like a truce. Fragile, temporary, but real.

Almost.

Because the truth still lives between us, sharp and unforgiving. The kiss we never talk about. The lies I can’t stop telling. The tape that proves he knows more than he admits.

And now the threat hanging over both our heads.

We walk away together, silent but side by side. And as we cross the empty quad, I feel it in my bones: the real war isn’t with each other anymore. It’s with whoever’s pulling the strings.

But if Jace is my ally now, that means I’ll have to let him closer than ever before.

And that terrifies me more than the blackmail.

Because every step we take together, I feel the truth pressing harder against my ribs.

The truth that when this ends—when the mask rips away and my secrets spill—he won’t forgive me.

And I won’t forgive myself.