Most parents would ignore it. Maybe assume it was a janitor burning leaves or kids sneaking a cigarette. But the smell hit me on the wind, and it wasn’t tobacco. It was the distinct, acrid scent of burning paper and glue. It smelled like destruction.

And then, I heard the laughter.

Chapter 2: The Silence of the Wolf

It wasn’t the happy, boisterous laughter of friends goofing around. I know what that sounds like. This was sharp. Jagged. It was the sound of a pack closing in on prey.

I deviated from the sidewalk, cutting across the wet grass toward the bleachers. My pulse didn’t speed up—it slowed down. That cold, focused calm I’d lived with for the last year washed over me. I moved silently. You learn to walk without making a sound when noise can get you killed.

As I rounded the corner of the metal structure, the scene unfolded before me like a punch to the gut.

There were four of them. Three boys in varsity jackets—the kings of the school, no doubt—and one girl holding an iPhone, the camera light on. They formed a tight semi-circle, blocking the exit.

And in the dirt, pushed up against the chain-link fence, was Lily.