Chase stared at the screen, a chill running through him. He tried to call the number, but it went straight to voicemail.
By the time school started, Chase had convinced himself the text was a bluff. No one had witnessed their failed mugging, and surely Amara wouldn't have recorded it somehow. But as he walked through the halls, he noticed students watching him—some with undisguised curiosity, others with barely concealed smirks.
In first period, he found a note taped to his desk: "How's the back feeling, tough guy?"
Between classes, he cornered Logan at his locker. "Did you tell anyone about last night?"
"Are you crazy?" Logan hissed. "Of course not."
"Then how do people know?"
Logan shook his head. "I don't know, man, but I'm done with this. That girl is not someone we should be messing with."
Chase refused to accept defeat so easily. During lunch, he stationed himself near the entrance to the cafeteria, watching for Amara. When she entered, tapping her cane before her, he approached with deliberate steps.
"We need to talk," he said quietly.
"I don't think we have anything to discuss," Amara replied, continuing past him.
Chase followed, lowering his voice. "How did you do that last night? How did you know it was us?"
Amara paused, turning slightly toward him. "You're asking the wrong questions, Chase."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're fixated on how I defended myself. You should be asking why I needed to."
Before Chase could respond, Sammy appeared beside them, his expression unreadable as always. "Amara, I need to show you something," he said without greeting. "Yasmin, too."