Chapter 30 The First Real Threat

Chapter 30 The First Real Threat


The note sat in my pocket all night, burning through the fabric like fire. I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. Every creak of the dorm pipes, every shuffle of feet in the hallway made me jolt upright, certain someone was coming for me.

By morning, my head was heavy, my eyes gritty, but the fear hadn’t dulled. If anything, it had sharpened, slicing at me with every thought. Someone knew about me. About Jace. About everything.

I’d survived weeks at Blackridge by convincing myself I was the one in control. That I was always one step ahead. But standing in front of my mirror, hair pulled back tight, uniform buttoned to the throat, I didn’t feel like Ava Carter or Eva Sinclair. I felt like prey.

I told myself I wouldn’t involve Jace unless I had to. But the universe seemed determined to laugh in my face, because the second I stepped into the quad, he was already there. Leaning against the statue like he owned it, jacket slung over one shoulder, scanning the crowd with those stormy eyes.

And of course, his gaze found mine instantly.

He straightened. “You look like hell.”

“Good morning to you too,” I muttered, brushing past him.

But he didn’t let me. His hand caught my elbow, firm but not harsh. “What happened?”

I froze. The note in my pocket felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

“Nothing.”

He tilted his head, studying me the way a hawk studies its prey. “Liar.”

The word stung, mostly because he was right. I pulled away, but he matched my steps, shadowing me across the quad like a second skin.

“Carter—”

“Not here,” I snapped, low and sharp.

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t push. Not until we slipped into the empty hallway by the library, the morning rush fading behind us.

Then he crossed his arms. “Talk.”

I pulled out the note with shaking fingers and shoved it at him. “You wanted honesty? Here it is.”

He unfolded it slowly, his face unreadable as his eyes scanned the words. When he looked up, something dark flickered across his expression.

“If you keep digging, you’ll both end up like Noah.”

Hearing him say it out loud made the blood drain from my face.

Jace’s jaw clenched, the paper crumpling in his hand. “So it’s not just you anymore. They’re targeting both of us.”

I hated the way his voice cracked on the last word.

“I told you,” I whispered. “This isn’t just some game. Whoever’s behind this—they’re dangerous. They’re watching.”

His eyes met mine, sharp and furious. “Then we stop playing defense.”

I almost laughed, but it came out brittle. “And do what? Pretend we’re invincible until they actually kill us?”

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. For once, he didn’t have a comeback.

Finally, he stepped closer, lowering his voice until it was just for me. “Listen to me. I don’t care what they threaten, what they think they know. I’m not letting you end up like your brother.”

My chest ached, a deep, twisting pain I couldn’t breathe through. “Don’t say that. You didn’t even know him.”

He flinched like I’d slapped him. And maybe I wanted to. Maybe I wanted him to hurt as much as I did.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t. But I know what it feels like to live in someone else’s shadow. To be afraid all the time. To wonder if you’ll ever escape it.”

I looked away, throat tight. “You sound like you’re talking about yourself.”

“Maybe I am.”

The space between us buzzed, charged with too many words left unsaid. But before I could think of what to say next, the bell shrieked overhead, slicing through the moment.

We walked to class in silence, the note crumpled in his pocket now, though its threat lingered like poison in the air.

The rest of the day passed in fragments. Whispers in the hall, side glances over textbooks, a constant awareness of being watched. Every laugh behind me made my skin prickle. Every slammed locker echoed too loud.

By lunch, my nerves were stretched thin enough to snap.

Jace slid into the seat across from me in the cafeteria like he’d been planning it. Conversations hushed, eyes flicked toward us. We never sat together, not where people could see.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

“Acting natural,” he said, stabbing a fork into the untouched food on his tray.

“This isn’t natural. This is suicide.”

He leaned forward, his voice low and deadly calm. “Exactly. If they’re watching, let them see what we want them to. Let them think we’re not scared.”

I stared at him, incredulous. “So your plan is to taunt them?”

He smirked, though his eyes stayed cold. “It’s always worked before.”

I wanted to scream. Instead, I shoved my tray away and stood. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But you’re still here, aren’t you?”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because he was right.

That night, I locked my dorm door twice and shoved a chair under the handle for good measure. Sleep was impossible. My mind replayed the words over and over until they felt branded into my skull.

You’ll both end up like Noah.

I closed my eyes and saw his face — my brother’s smile, his voice teasing me as he slid a pawn across the chessboard. The memory hit so hard I couldn’t breathe.

I thought of Jace, too — his anger, his promises, his eyes when he said he wouldn’t let me end up like Noah.

But promises were fragile things. And here, at Blackridge, they were worth less than paper.

A sound snapped me out of my spiral. A faint scrape, just outside my door.

I sat up, heart pounding.

Another sound. A soft shuffle.

I grabbed the chair, ready to throw it if I had to. But then—silence.

The hall was empty when I cracked the door open, but there was something taped to it.

Another note.

I tore it down with shaking hands.

You’re running out of time.

My breath hitched, fear strangling me. I staggered back into the room, slamming the door shut, clutching the note so tight the paper cut my palm.

It wasn’t just about revenge anymore.

It was about survival.

And I wasn’t sure which one of us would make it out alive.