THE HUNTER .

CASSANDRA.

She's standing like she owns the damn building.

Smirking like she just caught us stealing gold straight out of her fucking safe. Arms crossed, posture relaxed, but it's the kind of relaxed that comes from knowing nobody dares to touch you. One leg slightly bent like she's posing for a revenge movie poster-the kind that ends with blood on the floor and her walking away in slow motion.

Her two loyal shadow-bitches are flanking her sides like perfume-sprayed gargoyles. Too much lip gloss. Too little brain. Their blank eyes scream one thing: Cassandra first, oxygen second.

She leans against the bathroom door like she has all the time in the world.

Then she tilts her head. That slow, theatrical tilt.

"Well, well."

Her voice is fucking venom, honeyed and laced with poison. It crawls over the tiles and under my skin. Suddenly the bathroom feels smaller. Tighter. Like the air just decided to shrink away.

"Look what we have here."

SHIT.

I feel my stomach lurch. My pulse spikes. Not because I'm scared of a girl, but because I know her.

She doesn't walk into a room for no reason.

She walks in to end something.

She steps forward. Slow. Confident. Deadly.

Now she's in front of me. Her eyes drinking me in, head to toe. That smug blonde face, that flawless glossed mouth, the smugness that drips off her like perfume.

"I've been waiting for this moment, you know, sweetheart?"

That last word? It burns.

And then one of her minions lets out a little plastic laugh like she's auditioning for a role as "Evil Barbie No.2."

Cassandra grins wider.

"This is the best day of my fucking life."

And then she starts circling me.

Slow. Sharp. Like a lion walking around its prey, planning which part to sink its teeth into first.

She walks behind Shaiza. My friends are frozen. Watching. Not scared-alert. But still.

She stops beside me. Too close.

"Do you like him?"

My heart stops. Just a little.

I play dumb. "...Who?"

The air shifts.

Her smile disappears.

"Don't play dumb, bitch."

"Do. You. Like. Him?"

Her voice spikes. Venom, again. A knife hidden in lip gloss.

"Do you like Shadin?"

The name feels heavy in the air now.

Shit.

I stare straight ahead. My voice is firm.

"No. He's my friend."

Mock laughter explodes behind me.

"Mmm? Friends? Huh??"

Cassandra snorts and laughs again. But this time it's sharp and ugly.

The others join her. Their laughter is plastic and poisonous, bouncing off the walls like broken glass.

Then she stops laughing.

Everything in her face shifts.

Her smile flattens.

Her eyes harden like glass that's about to crack.

Her voice goes low.

Deadly.

"Do you even know what the hell he is?"

I blink.

"I gave you signs, sweetheart. I always give signs. But you're too fucking stubborn to notice."

I don't reply.

I feel my fists clenching. My throat is dry.

But she isn't done.

"There are no more signs for you now. Only warnings."

She steps forward.

Now we're face to face.

I see every flawless pore. Every perfectly shaped eyebrow. Her lipstick doesn't move when she speaks. Her tone is dipped in hell.

"Stay away from him."

"I don't care if he's your friend, your brother, your imaginary boyfriend-stay the hell out of his orbit. Or I will make sure you see hell at this age."

Shaiza takes a step forward.

"Who the hell are you to order her around?"

Then Ruby, loud and pissed:

"Everyone knows you're obsessed with him, Cassandra. But that doesn't give you the right to act like she owes you shit. She doesn't owe you anything. She can be friends with whoever she wants."

Cassandra's gaze cuts to them.

That stare?

It's not just anger.

It's a death sentence.

The minions tighten their stances.

But Cassandra turns back to me.

"This is your last warning, bitch."

"You'll walk away from him, or you'll crawl away from me. Got it?"

I tilt my head. Just slightly.

"...Why would I do that?"

My voice is quiet. But defiant. Measured.

"You think I take orders from a glitter-covered psycho with control issues?"

Her hand flies out before I can react.

CRACK.

The slap burns like it was carved with diamonds.

Then-before I can even breathe-her fingers are around my neck. Not hard enough to choke. Just hard enough to threaten.

I cough, stumbling back. The tiled wall hits my spine.

Shaiza lunges.

Ruby and Ifrah too.

But the minions block them. Their nails are up. Their heels stomp into position like they've done this before.

Cassandra smirks.

"No more words for you."

Her fingers finally release me. My lungs gasp.

She backs away like she's proud of the chaos she just created. One last smug smile. One last glare.

Then she walks out like nothing happened.

The door slams.

Silence.

My throat stings. My cheek pulses.

I slide down the wall a little.

Shaiza rushes to me.

"Are you okay??"

I nod. Breathing hard.

"Yeah. Fuck."

I'm not.

I know it's just the beginning.

---

We step out of the bathroom.

The hall is dead quiet. Just the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the whispery scuff of shoes. And then-of fucking course-

"Does it hurt?"

Ifrah.

Ifrah fucking Zubair.

She's blinking up at me with those stupidly big glasses and that awkward little head tilt like she just asked about a scraped knee and not a goddamn slap to the face.

I don't even blink. I just look at her. One long, heavy stare that should make her feel like I'm about to dig a grave with her name on it.

Then I tilt my head, mock-serene, and smile.

"No, babe. It felt like a spa treatment. So soothing, I might go ask her for another round."

"Shut up, tube light."

Shaiza smacks the back of Ifrah's head-light but loaded.

Ifrah squeaks. "Ouch-what?"

"You're what."

Ruby mutters, dragging her hand over her face like she's in pain. Then she narrows her eyes and turns to me.

"What the hell are you gonna do now? She slapped you. That bitch fucking slapped you."

There's silence for half a second.

And then-

"I'm hungry."

I say it like a queen just announcing a royal decree.

"Let's go to the cafeteria."

Shaiza blinks.

Ruby full-on freezes.

Ifrah looks like she's buffering.

"What the fuck?"

Ruby's eyes narrow like I've just spoken Greek.

"You don't wanna take revenge? You're just gonna... eat?"

I shrug.

"I'm hungry, bitches."

And I walk. I walk, not stomp, not storm. Not furious. Not shaking. Just... poised.

My cheek still stings. There's a red-hot throb clawing across my jaw.

But the fire inside me?

That isn't rage.

That's calculation.

---

The cafeteria's buzzing with bodies and noise. People laughing, chewing, gossiping.

Normal shit. Human shit.

And here I am, sitting at the center of it like a storm waiting for its siren.

They all pay for my food-Shaiza, Ruby, even Ifrah.

It's some unspoken code.

Like feeding the beast before the bloodbath.

I chew.

Deliberate. Unbothered.

Like Cassandra's slap was a gust of wind and not a declaration of war.

They all just stare at me.

Like they're watching something alien. Like they're waiting for me to explode.

"What?"

I say with my mouth full of spicy noodles.

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?"

Shaiza leans forward, hissing under her breath.

"That plastic-ass barbie humiliated you in public. And you're just... eating?"

"You didn't even scream. Or slap her back. Or yell. Or anything," Ruby adds.

Her eyes are wide, lips pressed into a thin line.

"I thought you'd drag her blonde ass across the floor right there."

I swallow my bite.

Wipe my mouth with a tissue.

And then smile.

"If I slapped her there, it'd just be adrenaline."

I lean back in my chair. Stretch my arms. Crack my neck.

"I don't want adrenaline. I want something that sticks."

Shaiza's eyes gleam.

Ruby's head cocks like she's catching on.

"So we are...?" Shaiza starts.

I glance at Ifrah.

"What's her major?"

Ifrah, still chewing like a clueless hamster, blinks and swallows.

"Finance."

My smile sharpens.

"Perfect."

I stand. Slow. Like the villain in a movie who knows she's about to ruin lives and walk away with glittering heels.

"Come on," I say as I adjust my pant.

They all look at each other-a flicker of nerves, chaos, giddy disbelief dancing in their eyes.

"What are you gonna do?" Ruby asks.

I glance over my shoulder.

"Nothing."

I walk off, but my voice floats behind, dark and soft and promising.

"Yet."

"Girl, fuck that! Go back and smash her goddamn face into the linoleum!"

Ruby practically explodes, loud enough to make the kid at the next table flinch.

Even Ifrah, of all people, pipes up with a mouth full of rice.

"Yeah! Just one solid thwack! Right on her cheekbone! Instant karma-BAM!"

I don't say a word.

But Shaiza does.

She moves in front of me, hands up like a barrier, face dead serious.

"Stop. Just fucking stop, all of you."

Her voice slices the air like glass.

"Do you even know who that bitch is?"

Silence.

Even Ruby shuts up.

"Her dad's some board trustee. Her uncle sits on the university council. She's fucking loaded, Arshila. You touch her, they won't think twice before tossing you out like garbage."

I raise a brow.

She grabs my arm. Tight.

"You'll lose your future. Your degree. Everything you worked for. Don't do it."

My jaw clenches.

There's heat rising in my throat, slow and thick and steady. Not anger. Not revenge.

Something cleaner. Something sharper.

I look her right in the eyes.

"Then I want to get expelled."

And just like that-

The three of them freeze.

Ruby stares. Ifrah blinks. Shaiza's grip loosens.

I take a step forward.

They follow.

---

The finance department building is ice cold.

Glass walls. Polished floors. Silent, sterile corridors that reek of money and fake ambition.

The four of us walk through it like a fucking firing squad.

My boots echo off the tiles.

Room 507.

Senior Finance Class.

I stop outside the door.

Through the glass window, I see them all-rows of students, books open, heads down.

And her.

Cassandra fucking Monroe

Sitting pretty in the third row like she owns air.

I take a breath.

Shaiza grips my wrist again, eyes wide with panic.

"Arshila. Please. Think. Once you go in there, there's no coming back. You're throwing it all away for one slap. Is she even worth it?"

I look at her.

"No."

My voice is calm.

"She's not worth it. But I am."

And then-

I grab her hand from my wrist and gently place it down.

Finger by finger.

"Maybe it's my last day of university."

I smile.

Slow. Like a fuse just caught fire.

"So I'll make it the best fucking day of my life."

---

I push the door open.

Every head in the room turns.

The professor-a short man in a dusty blazer-stares at me over his glasses.

"Who are you?"

I step in. Confident. Measured. Controlled.

"I'm just here to see a person."

His brows furrow.

"Excuse me-this is a closed class-"

I don't hear the rest.

I'm already walking.

Students move aside like the red sea parting for wrath.

I reach her.

Cassandra looks up.

Confused. Slightly amused.

Still chewing on her gum like her cheekbones give her power.

I stand in front of her.

Dead center.

Like judgment day just walked in.

The professor's voice barks behind me-

"Miss-what are you doing?! Step away from the student!"

Cassandra slowly stands.

Smug. Confident. Not a fucking clue.

She opens her mouth-

I raise my hand.

SLAP.

Her head snaps to the left.

Gasps rip through the room.

She doesn't even get to react before-

SLAP.

The other cheek.

Harder.

Sharp. Brutal. Precision.

The room fucking freezes.

She's too shocked to speak. Eyes wide. Mouth trembling.

And I lean in.

So close only she can hear.

"That's for touching me. And this-

I lift my chin, slow and steady,

"-is me showing you mercy."

Suddenly-

"SECURITY!"

The professor's voice is wild now.

"Somebody GRAB her! Call the office! Get her out of here-NOW!"

Before I can breathe again, Ruby and Shaiza are on me.

Dragging me backward, whisper-yelling-

"Run-fuck-move!"

"You did it! Oh my God, YOU DID IT-"

I don't resist.

I let them haul me toward the door, but I don't turn back.

Not yet.

Because I know Cassandra's still standing there.

Still reeling.

Still shaking.

So I look over my shoulder.

Eyes locked to hers.

And I smirk.

Like war was a dessert.

Like I just tasted victory and it was sweet as sin.

The door slams behind me.

________

The hallway outside the Dean's office feels like a prison cell with too much light.

The four of us sit on the edge of a fake leather bench, backs stiff, legs bouncing. There's a dusty clock ticking on the wall like it's mocking us, each second louder than the last.

None of us are breathing right.

Shaiza's pacing. Ifrah's chewing her fucking nails down to the skin. Ruby looks like she's either going to pass out or vomit. And me?

I'm sitting there like a goddamn queen in exile.

Palms still tingling.

Knuckles still warm.

The taste of that slap still dancing on my tongue.

But then-

I look around.

They're shaking.

And suddenly the weight hits. Heavy. Cold. Almost dizzying.

"Why the fuck didn't you stop me?"

My voice slices the silence, low but sharp.

They all freeze.

Shaiza whirls around, her eyes blazing.

"STOP you?! Are you actually insane? You think I could've held you back when you looked like you were about to commit fucking murder?"

She stomps closer, hands flying like fire.

"YOU ripped my hand off and walked into that class like it was a fucking battlefield, Arshila! You looked possessed!"

I blink, heat flushing under my skin again.

"It was adrenaline, okay?! Fuck, it was adrenaline!"

My hands clench on my knees.

"I didn't plan it like that. It just-came out. I saw her face and it all just snapped."

Ruby throws her hands up, voice louder than it should be in a hallway that echoey.

"FUCK OFF WITH THE ADRENALINE SHIT."

She steps forward, finger jabbing the air.

"You said you just wanted to 'see her,' not fucking obliterate her jawline in front of an entire major class! Who does that?!"

"YOU FUCKING ENCOURAGED ME!" I snap, standing now.

"You said go smash her goddamn face into the ground! Don't play all holy now, Ruby."

She growls.

"I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE ACTUALLY GONNA DO IT, YOU PSYCHO!"

She throws her arms in the air, laughing but it's not humor-it's madness.

"You just walked in there and two-piece slapped the bitch like it was your final thesis project! What the fuck?!"

Ifrah pipes up from the bench, small voice but shaking like an earthquake.

"We are so fucking fucked. We're gonna be expelled. Not just you. All of us."

No one says anything.

For a moment, there's just that goddamn clock ticking, ticking, ticking like it's waiting to tell the world we're dead.

My throat's dry.

I lean back against the wall, closing my eyes.

"God."

I let the word drop like a weight.

"It felt so fucking good though."

Shaiza whirls on me again.

"Stop smiling, bitch. This isn't a Netflix drama. You slapped a rich girl with connections in front of witnesses. Faculty. Seniors. Her friends. The fucking professor. You basically begged to get blacklisted from life."

I smirk, still eyes closed.

"Yeah. But did you see her face?"

Ruby makes a strangled sound.

"You need therapy. Or jail. Or both."

Ifrah nods violently.

"You've ruined us."

My eyes open slow, gaze flicking to them one by one.

All three of them look like a tornado just spit them out.

And yeah, maybe I dragged them into hell with me. Maybe I lit the match a little too hard.

But I'd do it again.

Because fuck fake smiles.

Fuck Cassandra Monroe 

And fuck staying silent for the sake of survival.

---

The Dean's door creaks open.

The secretary opens the door like she's unsealing a damn courtroom.

"Arshila Eshaal Mirza."

My name slices through the hallway like a cold knife.

I don't move at first. I just breathe.

But everything inside me?

It's starting to spin.

The heat from earlier-the fire that made my palm swing without hesitation-it's gone now. Replaced by something colder. Slower. Meaner.

Panic.

I glance sideways.

Shaiza's eyes lock with mine-tight, wide, furious.

Ruby looks pale now.

Ifrah's still gnawing on her damn thumb.

I swallow.

And then-

My mind betrays me.

My parents' faces flash in my head.

My mother's raised brow.

My father's disappointed silence.

The weight of their expectations.

The suffocating pressure of their name.Of everything I was supposed to be.

Good girl. Clean record. Future set in stone.

And now-this?

Fucking brilliant.

I push the door open.

The Dean's office is cold and clinical. Mahogany desk. Leather chairs. Degrees on the wall. A window that overlooks a pond like serenity could drown out chaos.

He's already sitting there.

Stiff. Grey suit. Balding. No-nonsense glasses perched like a weapon on his nose.

His eyes lift to mine.

Hard.

Unflinching.

"Name."

His voice is flat. Not curious. Not kind.

"Arshila Eshaal Mirza."

I say it without breathing.

"Major?"

"Third year. Literature."

There's a silence that presses against my skull.

He leans forward, elbows on the desk, fingers interlocked like he's holding something dangerous.

"Do you know what you did?"

I don't blink.

"Yes."

"Why did you do it?"

The question hits harder than expected.

My throat tightens. My hands go cold.

I search for the fury. For the justification. For the scene in the bathroom-the slap that still echoes somewhere in my bones.

But all I say is-

"She bullied me first."

There's a pause.

A long, loaded pause.

"Do you have any proof?"

My jaw clenches.

I shake my head.

"No."

The Dean exhales. He doesn't sigh. He exhales like disappointment is a language he speaks fluently.

Then he shifts his gaze toward the secretary.

"Call the other three. Bring them in."

---

The door creaks open again.

Footsteps.

They enter.

Shaiza first, spine stiff like a soldier.

Ruby next, trying to fake calm but her lips are tight.

Ifrah last, hugging her bag like it's body armor.

They sit beside me.

Four of us, side by side, shoulders nearly touching.

But it's our eyes that do the talking.

That look.

That silent shared scream:

We're. Fucked.

The Dean leans back in his chair.

Folds his arms now.

Like he's prepping to deliver a verdict.

"Do any of you know the rules of this campus?"

We nod. Together. Too quickly. Too synchronized.

"Good. Then tell me-what is the policy on violence within university grounds?"

Ruby swallows hard.

Shaiza hesitates.

Ifrah whispers first, because of course she does.

"Expelled."

The word lands like a sledgehammer.

He nods. "Correct."

"Expulsion. Immediate."

His voice is louder now. More final. Like he's no longer talking to students-but to offenders.

"Then tell me."

His gaze sharpens.

"Why did you do it?"

Silence.

No one answers.

Because what can you say?

We're not saints.

We can't pull up texts or voice notes or footage of Cassandra throwing her venom around campus like confetti.

All we have is the truth.

And that isn't enough.

Ifrah, bless her doomed soul, blurts-

"Adrenaline?"

Ruby's elbow jams into her ribs. Sharp. Unapologetic.

The Dean raises a brow.

"Adrenaline."

He doesn't repeat it like a question.

He repeats it like a nail going into a coffin.

Then he reaches for his desk phone.

"I'm calling your mentor."

His tone is final. Cold. Professional.

"Miss Clara . Immediately."

He dials the number. Waits.

The line rings.

And we all sit there.

Frozen.

Waiting for the door to open again.

Waiting for the next sentence to change everything.

And suddenly, my throat burns with one truth I'm not ready to admit:

This time... I might have gone too far.

_________

The door creaks open again.

Heels.

Clicking like a countdown.

And then-

She walks in.

Clara Ma'am.

White shirt. Steel grey skirt. No smile. No mercy. The kind of teacher that students fear for her disappointment more than her discipline. The kind who can snap your self-esteem in half with one well-aimed look.

She steps inside, eyes cutting straight across the four of us-rowed up like prisoners, barely breathing.

And fuck, that stare.

It's not loud.

It doesn't yell.

But it holds you still.

We all go stiff.

Like soldiers awaiting orders from a general.

The Dean doesn't waste time.

He leans forward again, steeples his fingers.

"Miss Clara. These are your students?"

She nods, slow. Eyes still on us like she's watching a table full of broken glass and wondering who the hell dropped it.

"Yes. They are."

Her tone is flat. Controlled. The kind of tone that makes your stomach churn worse than shouting ever could.

The Dean gestures toward us.

"I'd like your honest input. Academic records. Behavior. Your read on them."

Clara doesn't hesitate.

She points to Ifrah.

"Ifrah Samah Zubair. Consistent top scorer. Doesn't speak unless spoken to. Has trouble lying. Bit of a... tube light, if you ask me."

Ifrah blinks like she doesn't know whether to be flattered or insulted.

Clara shifts her gaze to Ruby and Shaiza.

"Ruby Bennett. Studies like her life depends on it. Still barely passes. But she's loyal. Emotionally impulsive."

Ruby flinches.

"Shaiza Azmi. Sharp, observant. Doesn't speak much unless someone's crossing a line. Usually the reason other people don't cross it."

Shaiza's eyes narrow, but she stays quiet.

Then Clara looks at me.

And for a second, the air stills.

She says nothing.

Just watches me.

And I brace myself-because I know what's coming.

The sleeping.

The sarcasm.

The way I sit in her class like I'm waiting for someone to drag me out.

Then-

She says it.

"Arshila Eshaal Mirza. Talented. Undisciplined. Doesn't take most things seriously. Doesn't take me seriously."

Ouch.

And then-

"But... she won't start a war unless someone draws first blood."

The Dean raises a brow.

"So you're saying this wasn't unprovoked?"

Clara folds her arms.

Still watching me.

"I'm saying... she's not a coward. She doesn't hit unless someone's already hit her. Just not always physically."

The Dean leans back in his chair.

There's a long pause.

Too long.

I shift slightly. My knees bounce.

The silence is so loud it's almost screaming.

Then-

He sighs.

And he speaks.

"So. Expulsion?"

The word feels like a gunshot.

All four of us tense up at once.

My breath locks in my throat.

Ruby's nails dig into her own palm.

Ifrah mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a prayer.

Shaiza whispers under her breath-

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-"

But then-

The Dean leans back in his chair like none of this fucking matters.

"No."

We freeze.

"...What?"

He doesn't repeat himself.

He just looks at us. Calm. Flat expression. Cold enough to make you sweat.

" DON'T DO IT IN PUBLIC AGAIN."

Silence slams the room like a hammer.

We all look at each other.

No yelling.

No threats.

No calls to our parents.

Not even a fucking warning letter.

Just-

Don't do it in public.

That's it?

That's fucking it?

Ruby leans in and whispers through clenched teeth.

"What the hell is happening?"

Shaiza mutters, "This isn't right."

Even Ifrah looks unnerved. "According to the code of conduct we studied before the semester, this isn't even close to protocol."

I stare at the Dean.

He's already flipping a file open like he's forgotten we exist.

Dismissive. Calm.

Way too calm.

My fingers twitch.

Something's off.

This doesn't feel like mercy.

It feels like a move. A setup. A game I didn't realize I was a pawn in.

Clara nods once at the Dean and then turns to us.

"You're dismissed."

Just like that.

We walk out of the office in stunned silence. Step by step, heartbeat by heartbeat.

Nobody speaks.

Not until the hallway door shuts behind us.

Then Ruby breathes out like she's been underwater for hours.

"What the fuck was that?"

Shaiza: "We were supposed to be dead."

Ifrah: "But we walked out clean."

I don't say anything.

Not yet.

Because something itches at the back of my brain.

And then-

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Unknown

number.

Blocked ID.

Just a message.

I open it.

One sentence. No name. No emoji. No bullshit.

Just:

> "You're welcome. But now you owe me."

And just like that-

My blood goes cold.

---