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Nick Blackwell

That’s not my fucking name, Vixen.

I didn’t do this, tf. I’m added too.

Also, good morning.

A new reply lit up immediately beneath his:

Brandon Dawson

Woah. A simp.

?Replying to Nick Blackwell

Aiden Carter

Woah. A dead guy.

?Replying to Brandon Dawson

Brittany Klein

It can’t be Nick. He’s the Hemlock Host this year and has done absolutely nothing worthy of the job.

Nick Blackwell

You volunteering?

Ethan Light

How do I leave this chat?

0426

When you die.

?Replying to Ethan Light

Cade Voss

I’m going back to bed.

More names and messages flooded in. Everyone had something to say, and there was a major difference of opinion on how to take the chat. A few people were annoyed. Others were too amused for my liking, amped that The Hunt was one day closer, like this was a game they couldn’t wait to play.

I scrolled to the top of the thread and tapped open the participant list. I recognized more names than I expected to, including my closest friends.

I almost dropped a reply in like everyone else, pretending I wasn’t the least bit rattled, but I had been doing too good of a jobignoring the private texts to throw myself in a whole gauntlet of them. This wasn’t some random prank. It was tied to The Hunt, and I wasn’t about to give whoever was watching the satisfaction of a reaction. I muted the chat and tossed my phone onto the bed as I flopped onto my back, my eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Last night had been... a lot.

I may have had a tiny breakdown and gotten too deep in my own head, overthinking everything I possibly could. It lasted until the food showed up. Of course, I ate every bite. I wasn’t letting that Alfredo or tiramisu go to waste. Afterward, I pulled myself together enough to face the girls. All the while, they weren’t having a much better day than I was—Ari excluded. She’d been on emotional standby in her room, waiting for the all-clear. Roxxi was halfway to getting dressed in all black, like she was about to commit a robbery or murder.

Cloe had gone fullWaiting to Exhale.

She was standing in the kitchen, sipping a chilled glass of Bellara No. 9, the kind of Moscato that costs three figures and looks like revenge in a bottle. She’d lit a candle too, so I knew it was a bad day.Fireside Seductionwas flaming away on the counter, and she looked one bad comment away from having someone’s transmission torched. Naturally, I had her pour me a glass too.

Roxxi and Ari joined us in the living room, and we ended up having a pitiful version of circle time for emotionally unstable college girls who were on the verge of unhinged, expulsion-level behavior.

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