By nightfall, Daxton looked even more haunted than Sonia remembered.
The corridors buzzed with uneasy silence. Gone were the loud morning drills, the smug clatter of polished shoes on marble floors, the voices barking orders. Now, everything was muted. Whispers carried further than footsteps. People looked over their shoulders more than they looked ahead. Something had shifted and the school could feel it.
Sonia moved carefully through the west wing hallway, her blazer folded under her arm, her steps silent against the cold stone tiles. Eric trailed behind, keeping his distance just enough to avoid drawing attention. They didn’t talk. Didn’t need to. They’d been here before, and now they moved like ghosts through the halls, slipping between shadows.
From a hidden alcove, Isla stepped ou
