Every secret at Daxton came with a cost.
But some costs don’t show up in blood.
They show up in choices.
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Sonia didn’t wake up so much as rise.
Like something under her skin had decided she wasn’t allowed to rest anymore.
Her speech was still unwritten.
Not because she didn’t have the words,but because she didn’t trust herself to say them out loud.
Anything honest would turn the whole stage into a funeral pyre.
And anything false would finish what the Cartel started: her erasure.
By breakfast, it was clear the rumors had evolved.
Now it wasn’t just whispers about “Silas changing.”
It was theories.
Charts.
Even a fake Reddit-style postboard someone had created under the alias ValeTruth. Anonymous, of course.
But curated by someone with access—real access.
Sonia’s fenc
