Chapter 2 The Game Begins

The wind sliced through the Daxton airstrip like a warning. Sonia's soaked blazer clung to her shoulders as she stared at the boy in front of her.

Eric Blackbourne.

Tall. Sharp. The kind of sharp that didn't just cut-it carved. His dark hoodie was pulled low over his brow, but his eyes burned through the shadow like twin interrogations. Steel-gray. Cold. Calculating. Watching her like a puzzle with missing pieces.

"You're late," he repeated. "And different."

Sonia's throat went dry, but her expression didn't flinch. Silas would've rolled his eyes, offered a smug smirk, and said something sarcastic. She summoned that same ghost of arrogance and slipped it over her face like a mask.

"I was busy dying," she muttered.

Eric's jaw ticked. For a second, the air stood still. Rain tapped softly against the brim of his hoodie. Sonia's heart pounded beneath her binder like it knew it didn't belong.

Then Eric turned, motioning toward the sleek black Daxton car idling nearby.

"Let's go," he said coolly. "Headmaster wants to see you before curfew."

Sonia followed, gripping her duffel tight. Her legs felt awkward. Heavy. Too careful. She had to remember...Silas walked like he owned the world. Sonia walked like she was still trying to find her place in it.

The car door slammed behind her, sealing her into a world of leather seats and silence.

Eric didn't speak again. He just scrolled through his phone, his thumb moving slowly, purposefully. Occasionally, his eyes flicked up to her then back down.

Sonia stared out the window. Daxton Island loomed ahead, dark and moody. Gothic towers pierced the misty sky like the spires of forgotten castles. Everything about this place whispered wealth, secrets, and danger.

She tightened her grip on the notebook tucked into her blazer.

"Trust no one."

Not even him.

Especially not him.

---

The car pulled through the main gates, past stone gargoyles and a fountain shaped like a lion devouring gold coins.

Dacron didn't look like a school, it looked like a kingdom.

And her brother had ruled here once. Now she was stepping into his throne. The driver opened her door.

Eric got out first.

Sonia followed, her sneakers crunching on gravel.

Then, footsteps. Laughter. Two girls in pleated skirts and matching crests turned the corner and froze.

Their eyes went wide. One clutched her chest. The other gasped. "Oh my God. Silas Vale's back." "I thought he was..." "No way, he looks even hotter now." Sonia forced a small, dismissive smirk.

The way Silas used to. Head slightly tilted, eyes narrowed just enough to say I'm not listening to you but I know you're looking.

Eric's mouth twitched. Was that... amusement?

"Looks like your fan club missed you," he said, barely glancing at the girls.

"Can't help being iconic," Sonia replied flatly.

Eric didn't smile.

But he didn't look away either.

---

The headmaster's office smelled like cedar and smoke. Books lined every wall. A fire crackled softly behind a wrought-iron grate.

Headmaster Quill stood with both hands behind his back, eyes scanning her like a lie detector.

"Mr. Vale," he said, voice gravelly.

"We weren't expecting you."

Sonia nodded, lowering her voice half a pitch.

"Plans changed."

"I heard you were in treatment.

For... behavioral discipline."

She shrugged.

"Guess I'm reformed." Quill's gaze narrowed. "You look thinner." "Cameras add weight."

Eric, seated by the door, actually choked on a laugh. Sonia didn't dare glance at him. After a long pause, the Headmaster sighed.

"You'll resume classes tomorrow. Room 3D in East Wing. Report to orientation at 6 a.m. sharp. And Vale..." He leaned forward, voice colder than the rain outside.

"There are rules here. You break them again, you don't get a third chance."

Sonia nodded.

"Understood."

---

Later, in the East Wing hallway, Eric leaned against the door of 3D.

"Can I help you?"

Sonia asked, gripping her key. "I'm just wondering," he said slowly, arms crossed, "how a guy who used to flirt with every blonde in sight suddenly has nothing to say."

Sonia froze.

"Used to have an ego the size of this school,"

Eric added. "Now you barely make eye contact." She forced a smirk.

"Maybe therapy actually worked." He stepped closer. Not threatening but unsettling. His voice dropped.

"Or maybe... you're not Silas Vale at all."

Her breath caught. But her face didn't move. "Goodnight, Blackbourne," she said calmly, slipping into her room and shutting the door.

Lock.

Click.

She pressed her back against it, heart pounding.

And then she exhaled.

Too close. Way too close.

---

She turned toward her bed and stopped cold. Sitting there, on her pillow, was something that hadn't been there before.

A note folded and crisp. She picked it up with trembling fingers and read the handwriting she didn't recognize.

"You're not him. And you won't survive pretending to be."