To win a war, sometimes you have to play weak.
Let the enemy think you’ve surrendered… until it’s too late.
⸻
The text came unexpectedly.
Ethan: Can we talk? Just once. Please. I owe you an explanation.
My thumb hovered over the screen. My heart thundered in my chest, a rush of ice flooding my veins. Just seeing his name again made my breath catch. Jake would lose it if he saw this. But I didn’t show him. Not yet.
Instead, I typed:
Me: Where?
A small tremor ran through me—not fear. Determination. The plan had started. And I was done being the hunted.
I met Ethan at the old greenhouse behind the university—the one long abandoned after the storm two years ago. Its glass roof was cracked, the once-beautiful space now a twisted skeleton of rust and weeds. Ivy had devoured the walls, a
