??? ??????? ????

The air in the study room felt heavier as I sat there shifting uncomfortably watching Dennie and Drill evil eye each other.

I decided to say something to lighten the mood but I ended up saying something really stupid instead like I always do.

"That Scottie character sure is...stupid...am I right?" I blurted out my voice starting to trail off as I realized that my brain wasn't in control anymore.

Dennie slumped into a chair, running a hand through his hair. "I can't stand that guy. I really can't. He smirks, and I just wanna break him off."

Drill didn't look up from her phone. "You should learn to control that."

Dennie shot her a look. "Says the one who probably has a hit list."

She didn't deny it, which honestly didn't surprise me.

I leaned against the table, exhaling. "Okay. So let's say everything HackerX found is real—which, by the way, I'm not arguing against—where do we even start? We have some files, some theories, and a vague warning that we're being watched. That's not exactly a game plan."

Drill finally looked up, her expression sharp. "That's why you're here."

I blinked. "Wait. Us?"

"Damn, you work fast." Dennie leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out. "You recruited us five minutes ago, and now we're suddenly top-tier detectives?"

Drill rolled her eyes. "I don't need detectives. I need people who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty." She tapped her phone screen, then slid it across the table toward me. "HackerX gave me a location. An IP address that's been sending out warnings. It's local."

Dennie straightened. "Hold the hell up—you're telling me someone in this city is behind the messages?"

Drill nodded. "Not just someone. Someone in this school."

I stared at the screen, my stomach twisting. The address wasn't just local—it was tied to the college's network. Whoever was trying to warn people was right here with us.

Dennie whistled. "Okay. That's unsettling."

Drill crossed her arms. "More like convenient."

I glanced at her. "You think they want to be found?"

She hesitated. "Not exactly. But I think they're running out of options. Maybe they know something's about to happen, and this is their last shot at stopping it."

That sent a fresh wave of unease through me.

Dennie stood, grabbing his jacket. "Alright, what are we waiting for? Let's go."

I raised an eyebrow. "Go where?"

"To find them, obviously."

"Dennie, it's a damn IP address. Not a street address."

Drill swiped her phone back. "Actually, I did some digging. The connection keeps bouncing between different parts of campus, but there's a pattern."

She pulled up another file—an old floor plan of the school.

"The signals keep pinging off routers near the basement levels. The old ones. It's like someone's working from a dead zone."

Dennie blinked. "We have a basement?"

Drill gave him a look. "Yes. Multiple."

"That's creepy as hell." He paused. "I can't tell if I like it or hate it."

I exhaled sharply. "So you want us to go fucking ghost-hunting in the basement of a college where people are disappearing into their screens. That's your plan?"