~~Carson's POV~~
I burst through the entrance, blind to every other person and the state of the class in general, the cloud of infuriation over my eyes only letting Daniil's sight seep through. Like he was intentionally waiting for me, our eyes clashed the second I walked in.
"Where is it?" Only when I charged toward him, my deep voice bolting through when interrogating with no shred of humor in my eyes did I gain cognizance of the loud silence, and the raised brows dancing all around me.
No way in hell could that clip have been a sheer coincidence. The fact that they were together meant he'd already marked her for death. It was him. He lost his knife, went earlier today to retrieve it, and now was staring at me like the lunatic in our midst.
"Where is it, you bastard?!" I barked, hooking his collar and pulling him close enough to spare us any contact.
His silence was peeving. His nonchalance was infuriating. But more than any of those, the stoicism his expression beamed with was like thorns to my nerves.
I aggressively pushed his head away and reached for his bag instead. Upending, I clattered its entire content on his table, confused writhes barging in on my features when the bag lost all of its weight without anything resembling a murder weapon spilling out.
Wriggling rigorously, a white piece of paper followed afterward, slicing through the air and oddly cliffhanging the silence.
I tilted my glare sharply to him, the tinge of a smirk on his features tugging at my composure.
"Where is it?" I drawled, hooking him by the collar again.
"Where is what?" he returned in a whisper coated with a calmness in contrast to the fury in my eyes.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, ass –"
"If I were you," he cut me off, darting his eyes randomly as though he were scanning the crowd around us. "I would mind my actions. You found nothing in my bag," he whispered the last part, subtle hints of knowingness playing with the smirk on his lips. "Let go," he ordered in a grim tone this time, his appearance going somber.
If he decided to make an issue of this, I could pay heavily for overreacting. On weak grounds. Yet to secure solid proof of his involvement, an edge over me was in his palm.
The entire police force could go in for this if his father decided to drag the issue. I knew that. But my pride would be in a fatal mess if I turned around and just left. The rage burning behind my chest at his apathy was quite violent to push down, I wouldn't stand a chance even if I tried.
When I could perceive his guard going down, probably assuming he'd knocked some sense into me and I was just going to peacefully let go, I had my knuckles meet abrasively with his jaw.
Surprised murmurs broke out from every corner, the unending silence giving in to the punch I just landed.
I may just have made a grave mistake but the feeling of regret didn't stand a chance against the gratification pumped into my soul. There was a hundred percent chance I would have left here and dealt with a greater pang of guilt had I not done this.
But this only felt like a cup of water poured on a mountain of fire – the effect almost insignificant especially with the apathy his eyes ballooned with. He simply brushed the trace of blood that appeared on his lower lip, smiling indifferently.
While the ensuing silence ceased, the crowd probably anticipating a reaction from him, I pulled back, seizing any chances of getting overridden by rage. I'd be dead meat if matters escalated beyond the roof of this hall so I had to stop myself even though I still had a barrel of whatever that punch released, hurled up within me, clamoring to break free.
I sucked in air through gritted teeth to cool off the steam whirling violently inside of me. Even though that wasn't the least helpful.
I slammed his table with full force, bending over to glue our eyes together. That look in his eyes would not last forever, I needed to remind him of that.
"I'll get you," I assured in a dismal tone with my hand over his gauze, squeezing the back of his palm to inflict pain. But his features could never be blander. As if he had no injury and it was only a font, he wouldn't even flinch.
Ripping my eyes off his, a frustrated sigh followed suit, as though pumping out some steam as that was only when my attention fell on our audience.
Eyes with disbelief, shock, confusion, and thrill danced around the scene, a greater measure boring holes through my face as I now raised my head to know how much attention I'd drawn. Any other reaction would be unusual. I mean, I had just walked into their class, grabbed a guy by the collar, angrily whispered gibberish, and worst of all, if anyone walked in here right now, whomever I had this squabble with would not be easily identified as the so-called "guy" had the most serene response to my fit.
Unminding, I shot him one last glare before storming off and I could have sworn I heard a derisive scoff before bursting out of earshot.
That guy was dangerous. Evil. And a maniac to the society. My burning determination clawed at my insides, and it wouldn't take long before I completely satisfied it, wiping him off the radar for good.
It wasn't until bumping into something (or someone) that the veil over my awareness was lifted.
"I'm sorry," I apologized to the tan lady who just exited the cafeteria. Flickering her eyelids, she eyed me, apparent annoyance dripping from those hazel eyes. Eyes that resembled Daniil's.
I apologized. So I didn't mind the attitude, walking past her to the cafeteria.
I located Ashley's seat in a split second. Didn't do much, knowing where she'd choose to isolate herself in a swarm of people.
"Hey," I said to announce my presence, screeching back a chair beside her to sit.
"Did you get into a fight?" she asked out of the blue, rumpling my smoothed-out expression again. This time in shock. How did she know?
Like she heard my thoughts, she whispered, "Your hand," tipping at my palm to raise my knuckles to my notice.
I didn't even know about those, I thought, the bloody trail on it replaying the punch scene at the back of my head. "I cut myself," I lied in hushed tones.
"You wanted to see me."
"Didn't you?" I returned, taking my seat.
Didn't expect any response to that so I had to break the silence I induced myself. "It's concerning the investigation."
"How's it coming along? Any leads yet?"
"I just might have found one," I said, Daniil's name lingering behind my lips, but was only going to show her the picture for today.
Which I did.
"Isn't that Makayla?" I asked Ashley now perusing the picture like she was trying to fix a puzzle. "That may be the connection we're all looking for," I concluded, banking on her silence for a reaffirmation.
"This isn't Makayla," she said straightly, popping my balloons of hope. If it wasn't, then my theory thus far could as well be null and void.
If she wasn't, then who was that in the picture with the two other victims?
"It's her cousin, Jacklyn who now stays in South Korea."
"Jacklyn?" I reechoed, my brain already dismembering the old puzzle and looking for new pieces.
"Yes."
"How are you so sure? I can't tell."
"They're almost identical." Almost? I could spot zero differences between the two. "But Makayla has a goofier smile. Prettier too. And then there's a mole just beneath her nose," she added with valid proof I could not question.
"She left Chicago?" I took the picture back, now peering particularly at "Makayla" in a different light. Looking closer, it felt like the differences began to zoom in, but no, that was only psychology playing mind tricks on me. The photo was just the same.
"Yes, she did. A week before Makayla passed.
I shot my eyes up to her, the last sentence piquing my interest. "A week before she passed?"
"Yes."
"Why?" I probed further, my maximum attention now on her.
"It's a story not even Makayla likes to tell. The five of them were believed to have caused the death of one Riley in their major then – I don't know how. So they all had to disband, going into different majors while Jacklyn left the states entirely."
I darted my eyes thoughtfully, getting lost in the pool of insight she pushed me into. There had to be some sort of connection between the two.
Just before Makayla's passing.
Around the time a girl in their major died.
At the same time, Daniil came to the States.
If the five of them in the photograph were friends and were originally in the same major before leaving because of the said Riley –
"Where'd you get this photo?" She finally asked but all my spirit, body, and soul craved was to feed my investigation board that a proper conversation right now would be too much for me.
I needed to think.
I was getting thrilled already.
"Car –"
"And who's this?" I asked in a 'lest I forget' sense, pointing at the familiar girl I recognized from the video.
She just stared, pinching her brows in suspicion. Not like I couldn't run background checks and get all five names at my fingertips, I just wanted to make things easier and faster.
"Why are you – "
"I just need a name, Ashley," I stressed. "I'll tell you everything later."
"Uhh… I think, Mia. Mia. Yeah, that's her name."
"Alright, thanks." I sprung up urgently and exited afterward.