Montclair Institute’s goal was simple: obedience. It was the school’s entire purpose, hidden beneath a sparkling facade of academic excellence. “Discipline Above All” gleamed in dark, engraved letters above the archway leading to its pristine campus. Parents were assured that Montclair’s rigorous system would straighten out their unruly children, turn them into focused, polite individuals. But to the students who lived it, Montclair was a place of quiet dread, a place where the slightest slip—a flash of anger, a stifled laugh—earned punishment swift and severe.

Connor Stroud sat on the edge of his bunk, rigid and silent, textbooks and notes spread out in front of him. All these pages. All these words. His pen scratched across paper, scribbling notes he wouldn’t remember tomorrow. The formulas, historical dates, names and figures were all just…background noise. Same as yesterday. Same as the day before.

A faint click echoed from the hallway, and Julia Troy entered their dorm room. She closed the door softly, and for a brief moment, they exchanged a silent nod. The usual acknowledgment, muted, practiced. Julia moved to her desk without a word. Connor went back to his notes, burying himself in the routine that kept his mind quiet. Eyes down. Focused. Keep going.

He was so focused on a problem set that he almost didn’t hear her when she spoke.

“Connor.”

It wasn’t a greeting. Her voice was a whisper, the words barely above a breath, as though the walls were listening.

He glanced up, giving her a look that, maybe, in some other life could have been curiosity.

Julia’s eyes flicked to the door, then back to him. “I need to tell you something.”

Connor froze, his pen halting mid-stroke. His heart gave a single, reckless thump against his chest. Stupid. Stupid. She’s not thinking. We’re not supposed to talk about anything that isn’t…approved.