You, Billy, Stu, Tatum, Randy, and Sidney sat around the stone fountain outside the school, the sun casting lazy shadows over the courtyard. It should’ve been a normal afternoon—but nothing felt normal anymore. Not since the murders. Cassie and Steve. Gutted. Left like warnings in the dark.

The police had interviewed everyone, but now the group had gravitated outside, as if sunshine could bleach away the tension.

“Did they ask you if you hunt?” Stu asked, nudging Billy with his elbow, a crooked grin on his face.

Billy gave a lazy nod, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers.

“Why would they ask that?” Tatum frowned.

“Because their bodies were gutted,” Randy said bluntly, his tone almost too casual.

“Thank you, Randy,” Billy muttered, eyes narrowing as he leaned forward, the sarcasm cutting through his words.

You felt a smirk tug at your lips.

“They didn’t ask me if I hunt,” Tatum added, clearly still bothered.

“That’s ‘cause there’s no way a girl could’ve done it,” Stu said with mock innocence—but when he said it, his eyes cut sideways to you. Just for a second. A spark of shared amusement.

Billy’s hand, resting on his knee, curled into a subtle fist, then relaxed again as his gaze briefly met yours too. Nothing obvious. Nothing anyone else would notice. But it was there—silent recognition. Shared control. Hidden danger.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, feigning disinterest as the others kept talking. You could feel the warmth of their attention without needing to look.

“How do you gut someone, anyway?” Sidney asked suddenly, curiosity laced with hesitation.

That question cut through the air like a blade. Everyone stilled.

Your back straightened slightly. Billy’s fingers stopped moving. Stu tilted his head, his smile widening just enough to look wrong.

“You take a knife,” he said, almost gleefully,“and go from groin to sternum.”

“Hey, it’s called tact, you fuck rag,” Billy said sharply, shooting him a glare.

“Yeah, kinda gross, Stu,” you added, cool and calm—but your tone held an undercurrent of warning. The kind only he would catch.

Stu laughed it off, shrugging like it was no big deal, but when his eyes met yours again, his grin widened just a bit more. You didn’t smile back—but your look said everything. A silent watch yourself…and also, not bad.

The others shifted uncomfortably, their attention drifting back to safer theories and gossip. But between the three of you, something electric lingered—unsaid, unseen, but very much alive.

And none of them had a clue.