Chapter 6 Replay
1116 Words
Marinette
I stared at my phone long after Vice Principal Ramirez ended the call.
The storage room suddenly felt smaller than before. The flour bags in my hands seemed heavier too, enough that I finally dropped them onto the floor with a soft thud. My thoughts kept replaying the conversation over and over again.
The board wants to understand what happened tonight.
‘Your camera might be the only angle we have.’
‘Something unusual may have been recorded.’
None of that sounded normal. Not even in the slightest way.
“Marinette?” Alya called from outside the storage room. “You alive in there?”
“Unfortunately.”
She stepped inside a second later holding a tray of cookies. “Your mom says stop hiding and help package these.”
I leaned against the shelf behind me. “Ramirez called.”
Alya’s joking expression disappeared immediately. “What did she say?”
“She wants the footage.”
A short silence followed.
“Does she know?” Alya asked carefully.
I nodded slowly. “Apparently the school board thinks something happened during the game.”
“That’s concerning.”
“No, I think you mean that’s terrifying.”
Alya placed the tray down beside the flour bags and lowered her voice instinctively. “Do you think they know?”
“I don’t even know what there is to know.”
“But you believe it now.”
I opened my mouth to deny it automatically, but the words never came out which is because I did believe it, at least partly.
Enough to be scared and enough that Adrien’s face kept appearing in my head every five minutes whether I wanted it to or not.
The worst part was that I couldn’t stop thinking about how afraid he looked in that hallway. It was like he knew something terrible was about to happen and couldn’t stop it.
Alya crossed her arms. “Okay. We need to see the footage.”
My stomach tightened instantly. “Right now?”
“Yes, right now.”
“What if there’s actually something on it?”
“Well then we know.”
Alya grabbed my wrist before I could stall again. “Marinette, if your camera caught something supernatural, we need to know before you hand anything to the school.”
That part was true.
I glanced toward the bakery entrance nervously before following Alya back upstairs to my attic room. My parents stayed downstairs cleaning for closing time, completely unaware that their daughter might have accidentally recorded evidence that werewolves existed.
Normal Tuesday night.
The moment we entered my room, Alya locked the door dramatically.
“You’re so extra,” I muttered.
“You say that now, but if your hockey boyfriend transforms into a wolf outside the bakery later, don’t come crying to me.”
“He is not my hockey boyfriend.”
“You literally defended his emotional state earlier.”
“I said he looked scared.”
“Well you said it softly.”
I ignored her and pulled the damaged camera onto my desk instead.
The cracked lens hurt my chest a little. School equipment was expensive enough already without supernatural trauma getting involved. Alya sat beside me while I carefully plugged the camera into my laptop.
For one horrible second, nothing happened. Then the screen lit up.
“Oh thank God,” Alya breathed.
The files loaded slowly onto the computer screen one by one. Hockey clips. Crowd shots. Interviews. Practice footage from earlier in the week.
Normal.
Normal.
Still normal.
Then I reached the final recording. Locker room hallway.
My pulse quickened immediately.
Alya noticed too because she sat straighter beside me. “That’s it.”
“I know.”
“Play it.”
I hesitated.
Then I clicked the video.
The footage started shakily, showing the hallway outside the locker rooms. Players walked past the camera while laughing loudly in the background. Then Adrien appeared on screen.
Even through video, there was something intense about him.
Alya made a small sound beside me. “Okay wow. He’s aggressively attractive.”
“This is not the time.”
“Just trying to stay emotionally balanced.”
The interview continued normally at first.
My voice asked questions behind the camera while Adrien answered with visible annoyance. Luka appeared briefly too, making sarcastic comments in the background.
Then Damian entered the frame.
The moment he appeared on screen, the atmosphere changed even through the recording. I felt it immediately.
The conversation became harder to hear because several hockey players walked past during the recording but the camera still caught pieces clearly.
Little wolf.
Alpha.
Human.
Alya slowly looked at me. “Marinette…”
“I heard it too.”
Then the video glitched.
The screen distorted violently for half a second, covered in static lines that made both of us jump. When the image stabilized again, Damian was staring directly toward the camera.
And his eyes were gold. It wasn’t reflection or lighting. Pure gold.
Alya sucked in a sharp breath beside me.
“Oh my God.”
I couldn’t speak because it was actually real.
The video shook slightly as my recorded voice whispered, “What are you people?”
Then Adrien turned toward the camera.
His eyes changed too.
Gold flashed brightly across the screen for barely a second before the footage distorted again. The audio cracked painfully, followed by a loud static sound.
Then the video ended abruptly. Silence filled my room instantly. Neither of us moved or spoke.
I stared at the frozen laptop screen while my heartbeat pounded so hard it physically hurt.
Werewolves.
Actual werewolves.
Adrien was one of them.
Alya finally spoke first, her voice barely above a whisper.
“We cannot send this to the school.”
“I know.”
“No, like seriously. Absolutely not.”
“I KNOW.”
Panic started crashing into me all over again, stronger this time because now I had proof. Real proof sitting on my laptop screen.
Proof that could ruin lives.
Proof that could probably ruin mine too.
My phone suddenly buzzed loudly against the desk. Both of us nearly screamed. I grabbed it quickly, expecting another call from Ramirez.
Instead, my stomach dropped at the name on the screen.
Unknown Caller ID: Adrien Agreste.
Alya looked between me and the phone with wide eyes. “Why is he calling you?”
“I don’t know!”
The phone buzzed again insistently.
Then a message appeared underneath the missed call.
DON’T SEND THE FOOTAGE.
A second message arrived immediately after.
PLEASE.
Then, before I could even process that, a third message appeared.
THEY’RE ALREADY COMING FOR IT.
- Writer
