RIVAL’S POV
Everyone acts like nothing happened.
The halls buzz the same. Mess lines, same rotations. Blades sharpened. Boots polished. Screams echo from training halls, like rhythm. Like background music.
But I’m listening for static.
The broken note between the beats.
Because someone sent a ghost into my bunk, and now I can’t blink without thinking they’re watching.
So I don’t blink.
I watch.
Every shadow. Every eye. Every corner.
And I smile when they think I’m calm.
The next morning, I sat with the others in the south mess. Elbows on steel. Boots scuffed from the terrain march. And I chewed bland protein bread like I wasn’t thinking about dissolving a body hours ago.
Thomas sat two benches away, one leg bouncing like he had too much caffeine. He hadn’t spoken to me since he
