"They don't know anything. They don't know what you did, what you risked—"
"And they can't know. That's the point." I released his wrist. "We knew this would happen. We knew there would be talk. We just have to ride it out."
James nodded slowly. Picked up his bent fork, stared at it like he wasn't sure how it had gotten that way. Set it down.
"I'm not hungry anymore," he said.
Neither was I.
We were halfway to the door when Ivy intercepted us.
She appeared out of nowhere — one moment the path was clear, the next she was standing in front of us, arms crossed, expression flat and dangerous.
"Come with me," she said.
"Ivy—"
"Now."
She turned and walked toward a corner of the dining hall I'd never paid attention to — a small alcove near the kitchen entrance, hidden from the main room by a half-wall. We followed.
The alcove was occupied. Three girls I recognized from Ivy's social circle — the kind of people who always seemed to know everything about everyone. They were huddled together, phones in hand, voices low and urgent.
Until they saw Ivy.
"Out," she said.
They scattered.
Ivy watched them go, then turned to face us. Her expression hadn't changed — still flat, still controlled — but I could see the anger underneath. The cold fury that Ivy wielded like a weapon.
"Sit," she said.
We sat.
Ivy remained standing. Arms crossed. Looking down at us like we were misbehaving children.
"I've spent the last six hours doing damage control," she said. "Shutting down rumors. Redirecting conversations. Threatening people who should know better than to spread bullshit they can't verify."
"Ivy, I—"
"I'm not finished." Her voice cut through mine like a blade. "I've told seventeen different people that you were on an authorized field study. That whatever they saw was a training exercise. That the lockdown was a drill that went wrong. I've lied more times today than I have in the past year combined."
Guilt settled in my chest like a stone. "I'm sorry."
"I don't want sorry. I want answers." Ivy's eyes were hard. "I want to know why my roommate disappears for days without explanation. Why she comes back looking like she's been through a war. Why there were actual wolves on campus, and why everyone seems to think you brought them here."
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
What could I tell her? The truth was impossible. The lies felt worse.
"I can't explain everything," I said finally. "Not yet. There are things happening that I don't fully understand myself, and telling you would put you in danger."
"I'm already in danger." Ivy's voice was quiet. Certain. "I'm your roommate. Your friend. Whatever you're involved in, I'm already connected to it just by proximity. So don't pretend you're protecting me by keeping me in the dark."
She wasn't wrong.
"There are people who need help," I said carefully. "People who have been abandoned. Forgotten. Left to suffer because it was easier than saving them." I met her eyes. "I couldn't leave them there. I know it was risky. I know it caused problems. But I couldn't."
