Neither does he.
We justlook at each other.
And the silence stretches, for a long time, an invisible force neither of us fully understands but both of usfeel.
Kai doesn’t blink.
Neither do I.
Something about this moment is undoubtedly dangerous, and I know I should break it—say something, look away, move, do anything—but I don’t.
Ican’t.
Then Bea clears her throat.
“So, the plan?”
And just like that, the thread snaps.
“We have a suspect.” Christian exhales sharply, before gesturing to the empty space beside him.
For a second, I think he’s joking. Because I had just considered they’d drop it after getting Sterling to help. But then I glance at the others—Kai, Will, Bea, Lilia, Liam—and none of them are laughing.
Okay. Not a joke.
I step forward, about to sit, but when I turn, Kym is still standing there, hovering slightly, her posture a little stiff. Like she’s uncertain if she’s invited or not—like she doesn’t know if she belongs in the conversation at all.
I give her a small, reassuring smile, reaching out to gently tug her forward.
She hesitates, just for a beat, then sighs, watching as I lower myself onto the ground before she finally moves. She adjusts her coat, then sinks down gracefully beside me.
“Who?” I ask, curious and a little nervous.
Kai doesn’t even blink.
“Dominic Anderson.”
For a second, the name doesn’t register. But then—
Wait.
Anderson?
As in…our Business Studies teacher?
I frown, glancing between them, expecting to see some sign that they’re messing with me.
“Ourteacher?” I ask, sceptical. “How do you evenknow?”
Kai leans forward slightly, forearms resting against his knees, long fingers laced loosely together. He tilts his head just a fraction, looking at me but not answering the question.
It’s almost like hewantsto leave me in suspense.
“We knoweveryoneat Brentwood,” Christian clarifies from my left. “Every teacher, every administrator, every board member. They’ve been around for years. They’re family friends, old acquaintances—people we can trace back to something.”
I frown, a slow, uneasy realization creeping in.
“Anderson isn’t.”
