Damian Vesper sat cross-legged on his bed, the glow of his desk lamp barely lighting the small dorm room. In his hands was the diary he had snatched from Mr. Saville's office. Its cracked leather cover and faint, musty smell gave it an eerie sense of importance. He had thought about leaving it alone, convincing himself it wasn't his problem. But the more he tried to ignore it, the more it felt like it was calling to him.
Now, with the room quiet and everyone asleep, he gave in. Damian opened the diary carefully, the pages crackling as he turned them. The handwriting was neat but rushed, like someone scribbling down secrets they didn't want anyone else to know.
The first few entries were boring—notes about meetings and everyday school stuff. But as he flipped further, things started to change.
"Jonathan Hale. $15,000. Transferred."
"Margaret Duffy. $12,500. Process completed."
"Carter Langston. $18,000. Successful extraction."
Damian froze. Names. Amounts. Words like transferred and extraction. It wasn't random. His heart began to pound as he read more.
These were students. Missing students.
Damian gripped the diary tighter, his stomach twisting. For years, people had whispered about students vanishing without a trace—no goodbyes, no explanations. The school always had some excuse, but now Damian was staring at the truth. These weren't just disappearances; they were sales.
He flipped through the pages faster, his eyes scanning the names and numbers. Dozens of them, going back years. Each one hit him like a punch to the gut.
Then he saw two names that made him stop cold.
Jacob West
Sophia Nunez.
Damian's pulse quickened. Everyone knew Jacob and Sophia. They were legends—the winners of last two competitions. But both of them had disappeared after the competition, just like that.
Now Damian understood. They hadn't left—they'd been taken. Sold.
Their price tags were the highest in the diary: $25,000 for Jacob West and $30,000 for Sophia. Damian's throat tightened as the realization hit him. The competition wasn't about rewarding the best. It was a trap. The winners weren't celebrated; they were auctioned off.
And he had fought in that same competition.
Damian swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep going. The next few pages blurred together until he reached the last one. The handwriting here was messier, almost frantic.
Priscilla Harrow.
Damian's chest tightened. Priscilla wasn't just a random name. She was Nadia's best friend, a talented and fiery witch who had a reputation for standing out. But unlike the others, there was no price beside her name. No note about a transfer or extraction.
Damian's eyes narrowed. That could only mean one thing.
Priscilla was next.
He slammed the diary shut, his thoughts spiraling. This wasn't just some hidden secret—it was a full-blown operation. And Priscilla was their next target. He didn't have much of an image of the girl just that she was pretty. Damian although carefree was a playboy. He had seen Priscilla around Nadia a few times but apart from admiring her, he didn't take her as something.
Damian leaned back against the wall, his breathing uneven. What was he supposed to do now? The school was involved—he was sure of it. Maybe even the staff. Who could he trust?
Should he tell Nadia? His instincts screamed no. She was already dealing with enough, and if she got involved, she might end up on this list too.
A knock at the door jolted him out of his thoughts.
"Who is it?" Damian asked, quickly shoving the diary under his pillow.
"It's Oliver," came the muffled reply.
Damian sighed and got up to open the door. Oliver stood there, his glasses slightly crooked and a book tucked under his arm.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Oliver said, stepping inside.
"Just tired," Damian replied, shutting the door.
Oliver plopped into the chair by the desk, flipping through his book. "Can't sleep. Too much going on in my head."
"Yeah," Damian said, sitting back on the bed.
Oliver glanced at him. "What's up with you? You've been acting weird all day."
For a moment, Damian considered spilling everything—the diary, the names, Priscilla. But Oliver wasn't a fighter. Dragging him into this could get him hurt.
"Nothing. Just thinking about the competition," Damian lied.
Oliver gave him a suspicious look but didn't push. "Well, don't overthink it. You're already juggling enough."
Damian forced a nod, but his mind was racing. Oliver's voice faded into the background as Damian's thoughts returned to the diary.
He had to do something. Priscilla didn't know she was in danger, and he couldn't let her become another name in that book. But if the school was behind this, he couldn't trust anyone. He'd have to handle it himself.
Damian glanced at the mirror across the room, his reflection staring back at him. He wasn't just a student. He was an assassin, trained to fight in the shadows. Damian was already being targeted by the organization but he couldn't let Priscilla go. The girl was too pretty to be kidnapped maybe even prettier than Nadia but anyways... that was not the main reason - he couldn't afford to watch Nadia hurt, Cassius was already enough problem for her.
And if the organization came for him? Well, he'll survive, he always has.