Chapter 7: Silent Shields
1700 Words
The fluorescent lights buzzed softly as Brey and JA walked down the quiet, narrow school hallway. The air felt heavy, too still—like something was wrong, but no one said it out loud.
Brey’s steps echoed on the tile floor. Her eyes were sharp and cold, fixed straight ahead. She didn’t notice the shadows moving behind her.
Red stayed a few steps back, a small half-smile on her lips—part amused, part warning. She watched every corner, every door, every sound.
“Does he feel it?” Red whispered, looking at JA.
JA’s jaw tightened. His nose flared as he glanced at the shadows. He didn’t see Red or Cleo, but he felt the change in the air. Like a predator’s warning.
Cleo moved smoothly and silently. She slipped between the shadows and Brey’s path. Her eyes scanned every dark corner, muscles ready to strike.
Red’s voice was a low whisper. “If they try anything, they won’t get away.”
JA slowed down a little, lips pressed tight. He moved closer to Brey, silently protecting her.
Brey lit a cigarette, the tiny flame lighting her face—cold and unreadable. She blew out the smoke, unaware she was being guarded.
Red’s smirk grew. “You don’t see us, but you feel trouble coming.”
Cleo nodded silently.
The hallway stayed quiet. The air thick with tension, but no one dared act.
JA’s eyes flicked to the shadows again. “Something’s not right,” he said quietly.
Brey snorted and flicked the ash off her cigarette. “You’re just being paranoid. Keep moving.”
But JA wasn’t convinced. He moved closer, his back shielding the darker corners.
Red noticed. “He’s got instincts, but not the whole picture.”
Cleo disappeared into a shadow near a door, fingers ready on a hidden knife.
The silence stretched like a tight wire.
At the end of the hallway, two guys appeared—young and looking for trouble.
Red’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t your place, boys.”
Cleo stepped forward just enough to cast a shadow over them—a warning.
JA’s hand slid into his jacket, touching the cold metal of a weapon. He looked at Brey, eyes sharp.
Brey stayed calm, unreadable.
The two guys stopped, feeling eyes and weapons they couldn’t see. They hesitated, then turned and left.
Red exhaled quietly, smiling. “Game over.”
JA relaxed a little but kept watching.
Brey took another drag of her cigarette, then dropped it on the floor. “We’re here.”
The clinic door was just ahead.
Red and Cleo melted back into the shadows, silent as ghosts, watching Brey walk safely inside—still unaware of the danger she had just escaped.
Inside, the clinic felt safe with its white walls and clean smell. Brey clung to that safety without knowing why.
Outside, the hallway was quiet again. Red’s voice broke the silence, low and serious. “They’ll try again.”
Cleo’s eyes shone cold. “Good thing we’re still here.”
And inside, Brey stayed unaware—protected by ghosts she couldn’t see and friends she never asked for.
Brey:
We’re at the clinic.
After the circus he pulled earlier—dragging me here without asking—he’s now sitting across from me, stiff and silent.
His face is unreadable, eyes fixed somewhere past me. Earlier, he was grinning like the devil. Now? Carved from ice.
The nurse comes in with the first aid kit, heading for him. One cold glance from him freezes her mid-step.
Typical.
“You did this,” he says, voice low and deliberate. “You treat it.”
She flicks her gaze to me. I take the kit without a word.
I soak cotton in alcohol and press it to his wound—hard. His jaw tightens. Noted.
A corner of my mouth twitches up. Victory.
“Trying to make it worse?” he mutters.
“Not trying. Succeeding,” I say, swapping for a fresh piece and pressing harder.
He hisses. “Ah—damn it.”
“You wanted me to treat it. I don’t do gentle.”
His eyes narrow. “I warned you. You didn’t listen. This is punishment.”
“Call it what you want. Do it again, I’ll chop your head off.” My tone could freeze the air.
The door swings open.
“You two still at it?” Red strolls in, all swagger. Cleo’s silent at her shoulder.
“Brey, you didn’t tell me you and Mister Frostbite were already a campus sensation,” Red grins.
“I’ll kill anyone spreading that crap.”
JA’s smirk twitches back. “You’re irritating.”
“And you’re breathing. Both are temporary,” I say, standing.
“You know what? I think you two are perfect for each other,” Red says.
We both turn our glares on her. She just grins wider.
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“She’s not annoying!”
“She is.”
Fifteen minutes. That’s how long Red and JA have been arguing about me like I’m a prize at an auction.
“She’s quiet if you’re not stupid,” Red fires.
“She’s constantly irritating me,” JA returns.
“Stop talking like a corpse.”
“What’s it to you?”
I tune them out. Cleo’s beside me, calm as ever, eating popcorn like it’s a front-row show. She offers me some. I shake my head.
“Hi! Can we sit here?” A guy with slanted eyes asks, four others behind him.
I slide over.
“Still got the moves, huh, Gelo? Looks like your partner here can handle you,” Slanted Eyes says.
“Shut up, Mitch,” JA replies.
Introductions follow—Mitch, Tyrone, Tyler, Ken, Jeff.
I keep to myself while they talk.
“Hey, Michigan. Your partner?” Ken asks, eyes on me.
Handsome. Maybe more than JA.
I hold his gaze until I feel JA’s stare burning into my side.
I turn. “What?”
He looks away. No answer.
Red shouts, “Bret!”
The name twists something I don’t want touched. I focus back on my plate.
JA nudges me.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he says. Still looking away.
I’m really going to chop his head off. That’s a promise.
The group keeps talking until it’s time to leave.
I stand first. “Let’s go.”
“AJ!”
I stop. Should I be pleased he’s following my order to call me that?
“What?” I glare, sharp enough to cut.
“Don’t leave me,” he says loud enough for the whole canteen to hear, smiling like he owns the air.
Whispers start.
“You starting a trend?” I ask, like he’s the dumbest living thing I’ve found.
“Just confirming something.” He smirks and walks past me.
One of us is going to end up dead.
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After our last subject, he says, “I’m going to your house today.”
If looks could kill, he’d already be buried.
“No.”
“So I’ll know where to pick you up.”
“For what?”
“Not a single clue. But I’ll think of something.”
A guy greets us—eyes on me. JA’s arm drops over my shoulders before I can move, steering me like I belong to him.
I elbow him. No flinch.
“You got a car?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“I’m riding with you.”
I glare.
“If I were you, I’d stop frowning. Wrinkles don’t suit you,” he says, lazy but pointed.
“Neither does your face,” I reply, unlocking the car.
He gets in without asking.
Next time, the doors stay locked.
The drive did not take that long. Good thing.
The maids bowed slightly as I passed.
"Good afternoon, young lady."
I didn’t respond. Not even a glance.
"Let’s go to your garden," the man beside me said. His tone was flat, almost bored.
"You’re talkative today," I drawled, eyebrow lifting.
He just rolled his eyes.
When we reached the garden, I stopped, arms folded.
"I’ll change. What do you want?" My voice was lazy, dismissive.
He said nothing. Typical.
I left him there and headed upstairs.
Inside my room, Red was stretched out across my bed, staring at the ceiling like she was trying to burn a hole through it.
I frowned, following her gaze.
"What are you looking at?"
She turned her head, eyes half-lidded. Sleep. That’s all it was.
"Where’s Cleo?"
"Garden," she said with no energy at all. "We found a guy who can protect you."
"Who?" I asked, slipping into fresh clothes.
"Your handsome partner." A smirk tugged at her lips.
I laughed low under my breath. "And why exactly would I need protecting?"
"Angelo’s a lot like him," she said.
The humor drained from me instantly.
I inhaled slowly. "I’m not replacing him, Red."
"Which means you’re still not fine."
I turned to her, cold eyes locking on hers.
"I’m fine. That doesn’t mean I’ve stopped feeling," I said, lying down beside her.
"Cross, it’s not weakness to admit it still hurts. I know you’re angry but—"
"He’s downstairs. By now he’s probably bitten his tongue listening to us talk about him," I cut her off, standing.
Flashback
"Cross!"
The voice tore through the chaos, just before he threw himself in front of the bullet meant for me.
My eyes went wide. My hands gripped his shoulders, desperate to keep him upright.
"R-Raid…" The name shook out of me.
He smiled—blood and defiance in the same breath.
"It’s enough for me… to protect you," he said, a tear slipping down his cheek.
"Raider, don’t—" I shook him, trying to pull him back from the edge, but he only nodded.
"Protect the group…"
Then his body went slack.
My hands fell away, fingers curling instead around the hilts of his twin samurai.
One by one, I cut them down. Every strike fueled by the last thing he’d ever said to me.
I exhaled, the weight of that memory clawing at my chest.
No matter how much time passes, the anger never leaves.
- Writer
