Rosella – First Person POV]
I spun around so fast my flashlight dropped.
The whisper had come from behind the archive shelves — deep, hidden in the rows of forgotten yearbooks and secrets no one was meant to read.
For a second, I saw nothing.
And then—
A face. Half-covered.
Gold mask. Emerald eyes. Tall.
"Who are you?" I asked, voice low.
He didn't answer. Just stepped back into the shadows like he belonged there.
Then, softly—
> "Watch your back, Rosella. Not all Thorns grow on roses."
Gone.
Vanished like mist.
I picked up the flashlight with trembling fingers and sprinted out of there like my life depended on it.
Because maybe… it did.
---
[Damien – First Person POV]
Julian told me she broke into the yearbook archives.
Of course she did.
I warned them she wouldn't be like the others. That she wouldn't just survive — she'd dig. And dig deep.
But that also meant she was a problem.
One they might decide to prune.
I saw her in the courtyard the next morning, reading that envelope like it held a death sentence.
It kind of did.
---
[Rosella – First Person POV]
The Thorns gave me 48 hours to deliver the secret — with proof.
And if I didn't?
Expulsion from the society. Maybe the school. Maybe worse.
The problem was… the photo I took wasn't enough. The post-it? Could be faked.
I needed someone inside to confirm the story.
And I knew just the snake to ask.
---
[Lara – Third Person POV]
Lara had made a promise.
One favor. That was it.
But when Rosella showed her the evidence — the picture, the note — she knew this wasn't just about pettiness anymore.
This was war.
"Okay," she said. "I know someone from the old school. He was a janitor. He used to sneak me candy when I visited my cousin. If he remembers her… you might just have your proof."
"Do I trust him?" Rosella asked.
Lara laughed darkly. "Girl, I don't even trust me."
---
[Veronica – First Person POV]
Something was coming. She felt it like static before a storm.
The Thorns hadn't called her in days.
Damien hadn't looked at her twice.
Rosella was playing too quiet.
Which meant she wasn't done digging.
And Veronica Black didn't get buried.
She did the burying.
---
[Rosella – First Person POV]
The janitor's name was Mr. Colson. Retired. Living two towns away.
I called Lara. We caught the 4 p.m. train.
When he opened the door, he looked confused until Lara explained.
Then his eyes went sharp.
"I remember that girl," he said. "Darlington, right? Big trouble, that one. Scissors incident. Girl needed stitches. School paid everyone off."
"Why?" I asked.
"Her mother threatened to sue for slander. And her dad... had some connections. Nasty business."
I got the statement. I got the photo. I had my proof.
But I also had a choice.
Expose Veronica... and possibly ruin her.
Or keep it and protect my place in this world of venom and velvet.
---
[Damien – First Person POV]
I found her in the library.
She didn't look triumphant.
She looked… torn.
"You found it," I said.
She didn't ask how I knew.
"I don't know if I should give it in," she said quietly.
I didn't respond.
Because it wasn't my choice.
It was hers.
And the fact that she was hesitating?
Meant she still had a soul.
The question was — how long would it survive in a school built to crush them?