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Everything seemed to unravel for Octavia McCall on her final day of freedom, as if the universe had decided to play one last cruel joke before school started again. It had started with the warm bustle of Deja Brew, her sanctuary amidst the chaos of Beacon Hills. The rich aroma of fresh coffee mingled with cinnamon and cocoa, the hum of quiet conversations, and the cozy glow of string lights usually wrapped her in a calming embrace. But not tonight.
Rhiannon May, the café's eccentric owner, had called Octavia in for a last-minute shift. "Just a few hours," Rhiannon had promised, but Octavia knew better. Hours later, she was covered in sticky syrups and spilled lattes, with Marco giving her the same disapproving look he reserved for customers who tried to order pumpkin spice out of season.
By the time Octavia finally dragged herself home, her hair smelled like caramel drizzle, and her favorite sneakers squeaked ominously. All she wanted was a hot shower to rinse off the chaos. But as she stepped under the steady stream, sighing in relief, the water abruptly turned icy, making her yelp and leap out, goosebumps breaking across her skin. "Perfect," she muttered through chattering teeth, glaring at the ceiling as if the pipes had personally offended her.
She pulled on a sweatshirt, still shivering, when her phone buzzed. She answered on autopilot, the screen pressed awkwardly against her damp cheek. "'Ello?"
The line crackled with soft rustling, a sound that prickled unease along her spine. "Hello?" she said again, louder, her voice edged with irritation. When no response came, only that same eerie sound, she groaned. "Listen, I'm having a pretty shitty night, so if this is your idea of a Scream moment, just go ahead and get it over with."
Silence.
Heart thumping, she hung up and tossed the phone onto her bed. But then there it was again.
A faint sound, like something shifting outside.
She moved cautiously to her window, nudging the curtain aside. The backyard was shrouded in shadows, moonlight cutting faint beams through the trees. Nothing moved. She told herself it was probably a raccoon or the wind. But when Scott appeared at her door, wide-eyed, with a baseball bat in hand, her unease deepened.
"So, you heard that?" she asked, nodding toward the window, trying to keep her voice casual.
Scott nodded. "Yeah, I think there's something out there. A predator, maybe." He handed her a baseball bat before turning toward the stairs. "Stay behind me. Just in case."
"A predator?" Octavia scoffed, biting back a grin. "It's probably just a raccoon."
"I think someone's trying to break in," Scott muttered, glancing over his shoulder, his voice low and serious. "Be my backup."
She rolled her eyes. "And what are two teenagers with baseball bats supposed to do, exactly?"
