The desks we pushed against the classroom door shake again, jerking forward with each slam. Something’s out there—clawing, snarling, moaning. Something that used to be human.

I try not to look at the blood smeared along the doorframe. It’s drying now. Turning rusty brown. I think it came from Ms. Ramos.

My hands are still trembling. I curl them into fists.

Across the room, Stacey’s hyperventilating. Jhoanna holds her tight, whispering something calm that none of us believe anymore. Aiah crouches near the window with a pair of scissors in her hand—white-knuckled, furious, scared.

Mikha’s knuckles are raw from pounding on a now-useless emergency alarm. Her voice broke five minutes ago. She hasn’t said anything since.

Taehyung is at my side again, like always. His arm is around my back. Protective. Possessive.

“I’ve got you,” he says, too soft for the chaos around us. I don’t respond.

Because I’m not looking at him.

I’m looking at her.

Dei stands by the door, breath steady, eyes sharp. There’s blood on the sleeve of her hoodie—someone else’s, maybe hers. Her jaw is clenched, unreadable, like always.

She hasn’t said a word since we got trapped.

But she doesn’t need to.

I watch the way she plants herself in front of the barricade—like she’d rather be the first one torn apart than let any of us go down.

Especially me.

Her eyes flick to mine, just for a second. It’s fast, almost nothing—but I feel it like a spark in my chest.

Taehyung doesn’t notice. He’s too focused on being the hero.

I don’t even know if Dei knows how loud her silence is. How when she moves to check the door, my breath hitches. How when she scans the room, my gaze searches for hers.

The lights flicker overhead. We’re running out of time.

And even though I’m scared—I’m terrified—I don’t take my eyes off her.

Because if anyone’s getting us out of this, it’s her.

Because if this is the end, I want to be near her when it happens.