Blurb：
In a world where floating bullet comments expose romantic misunderstandings, Luna finds herself at the center of a campus drama. Asher Miller, the male lead, realizes he messaged the wrong girl—confusing Luna with Chloe Lee—and now wants nothing to do with her. But Luna isn’t just a side character; she’s got secrets of her own. When she shoves a confession letter into Blake’s hands instead of Asher’s, the story takes a shocking turn. Dive into a tale of mistaken identities, hidden desires, and unexpected twists, where Luna proves that online flirts like Asher aren’t her only option. Will Chloe Lee and Asher’s destined romance survive? Or will Luna’s bold move change everything?
Content：
I was about to confess my feelings to my online crush in person when floating bullet comments suddenly appeared out of thin air.
[Give it up, Luna! The male lead’s avoiding you! He has realized he messaged the wrong girl and he’s totally grossed out.]
[It’s totally her fault for using a profile pic so similar to Chloe’s. Otherwise, Asher would never have mixed them up.]
[Ugh, just thinking that it was Luna comforting him after his big loss; that all those sweet words from Asher were meant for her… it’s so annoying.]
[Asher has been creeped out too. And our female lead Chloe only just added him yesterday!]
[Luna’s just causing trouble for everyone.]
I was watching those comments just as Asher walked out of the gym after his basketball game.
Seeing me, his eyes darted away, clearly wanting nothing to do with me.
I stepped around him and shoved the confession letter straight into his roommate’s hand.
Online crush?
Please, Asher wasn’t my only online flirt.
Those late-night soothing voice messages were all mass-texted.
Seeing those bullet comments, I was completely stunned.
Standing outside the basketball court, I watched the scrolling text, gradually piecing things together.
According to them, I was just a side character in some campus romance novel.
And my online flirt, Asher Miller, was the male lead.
No wonder his replies these past few days had been slow and dismissive, dripping with irritation.
He’d mistaken me for the female lead, Chloe Lee, from the very start.
That’s why he’d added me on Instagram, chatted with me, and caught feelings amid the endless stream of “good nights”…
Now that he knew the truth, he wanted nothing to do with me.
He saw me as an obstacle to his budding romance with Chloe.
A burst of noise came from nearby. Asher was coming.
He casually took a water bottle a classmate offered, unscrewing the cap, and taking a swig.
He was dazzling, the secret crush of countless girls.
After a few steps, he saw me and stopped dead.
Then, awkwardly, he looked away, turning to talk to a teammate beside him.
Watching his reaction, I sighed. It seemed those bullet comments were telling the truth.
[If I were Luna, I’d stay far away from the male lead, spare myself the embarrassment.]
[Seriously, the male and female lead are meant to be. Why is the side character trying to butt in? So pathetic.]
[Asher can’t even stand the sight of her.]
Asher was indeed avoiding seeing me. He was fiddling with his phone.
A smile touched his lips without him realizing.
It was probably Chloe that he was messaging. He’d just added her.
Just as he was about to brush past me, I lightly grabbed his wrist.
Under his startled gaze, I smiled, “You’re Asher, right?”
The bullet comments went crazy, all hurling insults.
I ignored them, “Is Blake your roommate? Do you know where he is right now?”
Asher froze, “Why are you looking for him?”
I waved the confession letter, “Got something I want to give him.”
Asher didn’t speak, but one of his teammates, drawn by the commotion, piped up, “You’re looking for Blake? He’s over at the tennis courts next door.”
“Oh, okay.” I released Asher’s wrist, “Thanks.”
I headed towards the tennis courts, letter in hand.
Whispers start behind me.
“Holy crap, this girl’s bold! She likes Blake?!”
“Yeah, that guy’s so… creepy. What girl would like him?”
“Blake’s got looks, though. A different vibe from Asher – pretty, almost. Guess some people are just into that face.”
“Hey, Asher, why so quiet?”
“Asher, where you going?! Not grabbing food?”
Footsteps hurried after me. Soon, a figure blocked my path.
I blinked, “Asher? Do you have something else to say?”
Asher frowned, looking at the letter in my hand. He seemed confused by his own actions, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
“Nothing, I just… Blake can be difficult. You don’t know him well. Just showing up might piss him off. Maybe I could give him the letter for you?”
The bullet comments exploded.
[What’s this? Is Luna playing hard to get?]
[It scared me for a sec! I thought the male lead actually liked this plain Jane. Clearly, he’s just being kind.]
[Gotta admit though, when Asher bombed that big game last year, Luna’s comfort was key. If I were him, I might’ve caught feelings too.]
Watching the comments, my mind drifted.
They meant that crucial basketball game last fall.
Asher choked during the final play.
They lost.
Teammates tried to console him, but he could feel their disappointment. He couldn’t get rid of the crushing shame.
I’d blown up his phone with messages, getting nothing back.
Finally, I sang him a song deliberately off-key through voice messages.
He finally responded, “Stop. You’re gonna kill me.”
His voice was weary, but it held a hint of a laugh.
I talked him through it all night, finally lifting his spirits.
[That was Luna stealing the female lead’s scene! Asher could never fall for her. He’s only ever liked Chloe.]
[Exactly! He fell for Chloe at first sight. He only added Luna because he mixed them up! Otherwise, Luna would never have made it onto his list!]
That sounded about right.
I shook my head at Asher, “No need. Blake and I are pretty close.”
Asher froze, “How?”
I leaned in, lowering my voice conspiratorially, “Actually, we’ve known each other for three years. Just… only online. We never met face-to-face.”
I added, sounding a bit shy, “Seeing as we’re graduating soon, I wanted to confess in person. Give myself a shot.”
[Wait, did she mistake someone too?]
[Perfect! Luna goes after the creepy villain guy. Leave our male lead alone!]
[But Asher’s expression looks kinda off?]
Asher froze in front of me, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. It was kind of amusing.
I looked past him. My expression brightened up,
“I see him! Asher, catch you later!”
Asher blurted out, “Are you sure you’re not mistaking?”
I paused, “Mistaking about what?”
Asher gritted his teeth, “You said you’ve never met. How can you be sure it’s Blake you’ve been talking to?”
I laughed, “If it’s not him, could it be you?”
Asher denied it almost instantly, “No, it’s not me.”
I stared at him for a moment. Asher couldn’t meet my eyes.
I nodded, “Right. So Asher, don’t worry about my business, okay?”
With that, I quickly stepped around him and ran towards the group just leaving the tennis courts.
Blake stood out in the crowd.
The hair at his forehead was damp with sweat; he pushed it back, revealing sharp, striking features.
And his eyes were cold, radiating a clear “stay away” vibe.
Besides tennis practice, no one really hung out with him.
I weaved through the group of tall guys and stopped right in front of Blake.
He hadn’t seen me at first and nearly bumped into me.
There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, “Can I help you?”
I shoved the confession letter into his hand.
“Yeah. I’m here to confess my feelings to you.”
Blake looked at the crumpled pink envelope in his palm, then he lifted his gaze to meet mine.
…
Honestly, I hadn’t lied to Asher.
Blake and I were pretty close.
At least I thought so.
I was the kind of people who always had overly abundant emotions and a strong desire to provide emotional support. I couldn’t help but comfort almost every sad boy and sad girl I met.
So Asher wasn’t my only online flirt.
He was just the most responsive one, demanding the most emotional labor.
He would pour out his frustrations after a loss and demand lullaby voice messages late at night.
Blake was the complete opposite from Asher.
The guy was ice cold. I could send him ten messages and he might not reply to one.
But I didn’t mind. I was utterly smitten with his face.
Meeting his gaze, I stayed cool,
“I’m Luna, Statistics major. Blake, it’s cool if you’re not into it. Let’s just… meet offline first?”
Blake barely acknowledged me. He simply slung his tennis bag over his shoulder and walked off.
I didn’t dwell on it. I just happily headed towards the cafeteria for dinner.
My phone buzzed several times with messages from my online friend “SweetNLow”.
[I remembered you told me your therapist suggested finding a boyfriend might help with your “over empathy”. How’s that going?]
I thought for a second and typed back:
[I had a target, but decided to switch it up.]
[What about you? Didn’t you finally add your crush? How’s the chatting?]
SweetNLow sounded frustrated:
[Meh. I added him and lost interest. Chatting with him isn’t as fun as chatting with you.]
Just then, I saw those bullet comments scrolling wildly again.
[Someone explain! Why is Luna friends with the female lead?!]
[So… the male lead was just a completely option of Luna?]
[Girl, what are you doing?! Your male lead’s waiting for your reply! Why are you chatting with this woman?!]
[Luna! Turn around! Creepy Blake is following you!]
[This is a hot mess. Get yourselves popcorn, folks.]
So, SweetNLow was Chloe, the female lead.
And Blake was following me?!
I whirled around. Blake was ten meters away.
Though he froze for a second, he didn’t look the least bit ashamed of tailing me.
Expressionless, he got close and passed right by me.
I shrugged it off and ducked into the cafeteria.
I was exhausted that night. After showering, I crashed.
I said goodnight to my various online flirts except for Asher.
I was dead tired. I turned off my phone and slept.
Finding a boyfriend was a serious goal for me.
The next day, right after class, I eagerly went looking for Blake.
It was too early. The tennis courts were empty.
After wandering around, I came back to find an argument brewing,
“Coach, the ball machine was broken when I got here! And look, it’s deliberate!”
“Who was the last one out last night?”
“Blake! He came back after dinner and stayed until closing.”
“Did you check the cameras?”
“Cameras are down. Maintenance hasn’t fixed them yet.”
They were arguing when Blake arrived.
Everyone stopped, turning to stare at him.
The coach’s voice was sharp, “Blake. Did you damage the ball machine?”
Blake looked at him, “No.”
His detached tone annoyed the coach, “Don’t lie. It’s not a big deal, just own up.”
Teammates murmured.
“Bet it was him.”
“He won’t admit it. Does he scare to pay?”
“Unbelievable…”
The bullet comments were also suspicious of Blake.
[There’s a reason he’s not the lead. He’s morally sketchy.]
[Ugh, look at his eyes. They’re chilling.]
Blake’s face darkened. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he pulled up a video and played it for the coach.
The video showed the empty tennis court. In the corner, barely visible, someone violently kicked the ball machine.
The scene flashed by. Then the camera flipped, showing my face.
“Hey Blake! You’re not at the courts yet? I’ve been waiting here forever…”
I was standing at the back watching the drama. Everyone turned to look at me.
I smiled awkwardly, “Hah, it’s just a random clip.”
But thanks to my video, Blake was cleared.
The coach walked over, “Miss, did you see who damaged the machine?”
I hadn’t remembered at first, but Blake showing the video jogged my memory. I pointed at the guy, dead certain, “It was him.”
The guy exploded, denying everything, “It wasn’t me!”
“It was! You were kicking it, yelling about how Blake only got picked for the Chicago tournament because he bribed the coach!”
The coach’s face darkened, “You said WHAT?!”
“I DIDN’T!”
“Oh.” I pretended to pull out my phone, “I filmed more than one clip. Let me find it…”
The guy panicked. Under everyone’s stares, he cracked and bolted.
His reaction was as good as a confession.
The coach was pissed, “Alright, break it up! Back to practice!”
“Coach.” I stepped forward, smiling sweetly, “Did you forget something?”
The coach frowned, “Hmm?”
I pointed to Blake, who was already quietly organizing his gear nearby, “You accused him in front of everyone. Don’t you owe him an apology?”
Blake’s hands stilled. He looked up at me.
I got a face full of the coach’s spit.
“What a cheek! Get lost! Don’t disrupt practice!”
The coach stormed off, barking, “Non-team members, out! Now!”
I pursed my lips and wiped my face.
Blake’s lips twitched. I caught it.
“Are you laughing at me?”
Blake’s face went blank again, “No.”
I pouted, “Whatever. I helped you today. You owe me a drink.”
Blake nodded, “Fine.”
[Wait… do I kinda ship them?]
[This is weird. What’s with the eye contact?]
[Something’s off. I need to see more.]
[My actual leads haven’t even met, and you two are already on a date?]
Sitting in an off-campus coffee shop, Blake slid my drink over, “Thanks.”
His tone was cool.
I got it now. This guy was probably just like this – naturally reserved, not big on expressions.
“Do you play tennis every day?”
“No.”
“When’s your next practice? I’ll come watch. Your game’s nice to see.”
“Where are your classes usually? Maybe we’re close.”
“It seems like you’re not tight with your teammates. Are they jealous because you’re hot and talented?”
“Why so quiet?”
“Hey, you remember my name?”
Finally, he said, “Luna. Are you always this talkative?”
I shut up and sipped my coffee.
Blake looked out the window with a distant expression.
Hmph. What a statue he was.
I was genuinely curious about him. Though he didn’t speak much, he didn’t ignore all my questions.
For every five or six questions I asked, he’d answer one.
Fine. It was better than nothing.
I was deep in interrogation mode when I glanced out the window and froze.
Across the street from the coffee shop was the West Campus entrance.
An ambulance was parked there, and a group of guys in basketball jerseys were frantically carrying Asher towards it.
Back on campus, I didn’t need to dig hard to find out what happened.
Asher had been a powder keg lately.
During the game, he got into it with an opposing player. Words flew. Someone shoved him hard.
He stumbled, crashed into some steps, and broke his leg.
Their team were scheduled to play a big intercollegiate game in Chicago next week. Asher’s injury meant he couldn’t go.
“He’s been unlucky these days.”
“It’s partly his fault. Contact happens in basketball. He shouldn’t have escalated.”
“He must feel awful. Should we text him? We’re teammates.”
I gathered the intel but didn’t leave. I sat nearby, listening to his friends and teammates talk.
“Nah, not us.” One guy chuckled, “He told me once he has this online girlfriend. She’s good at comforting him. We’d just be crashing.”
“True.”
After catching some more gossip, I got up to leave.
Back in my dorm, I zoned out for a few minutes before pulling out my phone.
I tapped into Asher’s chat.
The bullet comments immediately started mocking.
[What’s Luna doing? Trying to cling again?]
[Wow. Chasing Blake while sliding into Asher’s DMs? Luna’s wild.]
[Ugh. Can Luna just disappear? This injury is the leads’ bonding moment!]
I blinked. Well, I would play my part.
I blocked and deleted Asher.
Asher was miserable.
He felt like the universe had it out for him. Nothing went right.
Staring at the cast on his leg, Asher took a few deep breaths to quell the frustration.
Bored, he checked his phone. A notification popped up. Chloe sent him a message.
SweetNLow: [Heard you’re in the hospital? What happened? Bad?]
Thinking of Chloe’s gentle demeanor, Asher smiled. His mood lifted slightly.
[Busted my leg. Stuck here for a few days.]
Chloe offered comfort.
Feeling her kindness, Asher rambled.
[It sucks. I was going to play in that big game in Chicago next week.]
[Not sure if the team can win without me…]
[Couldn’t sleep last night. Finally crashed at 5 AM. Wrecked.]
[Hospital food’s worse than the cafeteria.]
He sent quite a few messages.
He’d hoped Chloe would chat and ease his gloom. But he noticed her replies slowing down; getting shorter and more dismissive.
Finally, their conversation ended with Chloe’s [Get some rest. Drink water.]
Asher felt worse.
He realized Chloe wasn’t quite what he’d imagined.
Strangely, he thought of Luna. If it were her… they’d probably be chatting easily.
Luna was always like that. She knew how to cheer him up; meanwhile, she knew boundaries.
Talking to her felt effortless and fun.
Sure, adding Luna was actually a mistake. But now, thinking back, he didn’t exactly regret it…
Maybe it was the old guy next door snoring like a chainsaw — Asher felt agitated, desperate to talk to someone properly.
On impulse, he tapped into Luna’s chat, typing a message carefully:
[Hey?]
Instantly, a glaring red exclamation point popped up.
Asher gripped his phone hard.
I was laughing so hard I punched my mattress reading Chloe’s latest post.
SweetNLow: Refusing to be an emotional dumpster.
Seeing I’d liked it, she messaged me.
[Sigh. The crush magic is gone.]
She told me about Asher.
[He’s so negative! How can someone be that bad at conversation?]
I teased her back, and Chloe cheered up a bit.
Remembering something, she asked:
[I’ve had a hunch… you’re Luna from the Math department, right?]
I played dumb: [Whoa! You figured it out?]
Chloe was amused: [Your Instagram handle kinda gives it away.]
True.
Only someone like Asher, missing a few brain cells, would mix us up.
Chloe pressed: [I hear you’ve been hanging around Blake?]
I admitted it: [Yeah. I’m pursuing him.]
I’d been visiting Blake – bringing water, snapping pics.
Chloe hesitated, then said carefully: [Maybe… consider someone else?]
I paused: [Why?]
After a few seconds, she sent a long message.
[Rumors has it that Blake might have… issues? My friend’s roommate saw him near Willow Creek late one night, doing something awful to a cat!]
I stared at the words in shock.
Dead cats had been found on campus for several times since last year.
The creep was careful: targeting blind spots, leaving no evidence, vanishing fast.
But Blake? He didn’t seem likely to commit the crimes.
[Sure it was him?]
Chloe said: [No proof. It was dark. My friend’s roommate only saw Blake crouched near the dead cat. But he’s still suspect #1. Seriously, maybe keep your distance with him?]
Chloe meant well. I didn’t argue.
I just acknowledged her and closed the chat.
Right then, I glanced at the bullet comments and froze.
[Blake is intense, but the cat thing? It’s definitely not him.]
[Remember this plot? Who was it again? I forgot.]
[Some guy… Is his name Wade?]
[Yes! That’s it! Bio major, straight-A student on the surface, total creep underneath.]
After washing up, I lay in bed, replaying the info from the comments.
They gave specifics of the cat killer. I figured we’d find him soon.
Too many thoughts kept me awake.
I searched Blake’s name on the campus forum. The result chilled me.
There were posts from girls who were drawn by Blake’s looks asking about him. All those posts were immediately flooded with replies like:
[Girl, RUN. That guy’s messed up.]
[Psycho. Hurts cats. You’d go for that?]
[OMG he wasn’t punished?!]
[No proof! But everyone knows it’s him.]
[So scary. Creeps like that should rot.]
[Heard he peeps in girls’ bathrooms too…]
My chest felt tight, hard to breathe.
I slammed my phone shut. Blake’s face flashed in my mind.
Suddenly, I understood his isolation; why his expression was always cold.
He drowned in malice.
On the forum, most of the vicious posters were guys.
They were jealous of Blake’s face and his athletic talent, thus using words as weapons online to destroy him.
Guys called girls jealous, but their jealousy? Far uglier.
Originally, I pursued Blake for his face.
Now? I genuinely felt… protective of him.
I hoped that if we found the real cat killer, people would stop hating Blake.
8
I started paying attention to people with the name “Wade” in the Bio department.
After some digging, I narrowed it down to Wade Carter, a sophomore Bio major.
He was average-looking with thick black-framed glasses permanently perched on his nose, giving off a harmless, nerdy vibe.
He had top grades, no social life to speak of, and practically lived in the library.
I secretly observed Wade for a few days, tracking his movements.
Too routine. Too normal.
Classroom. Cafeteria. Library. Dorm.
Except yesterday… he’d paused near the library flowerbeds, staring intently inside.
It was weird.
I was heading back to tail him today when someone unexpected blocked my path.
It was Asher, barely out of the hospital. His broken leg was still in a cast.
I schooled my expression, “Can I help you?”
Asher looked grim, “Why are you following that guy?”
I stared at him. Asher pointed across the street,
“My dorm’s right there. I can see everything from my balcony.”
My eye twitched, “Got it.”
Facing Asher’s accusation, I was confused, “Do you have anything to do with this?”
Asher’s face darkened.
I smiled, stepping around him towards the library, but he grabbed my arm.
“Luna. Did you block me?”
Meeting his gaze, I nodded, “Yes.”
Then I feigned realization, “Oh! Right. You knew it was me.”
“But you added the wrong person, didn’t you? We connected by mistake. Deleting each other’s setting things straight. Back on track.”
Asher frowned, “What are you talking about?”
I sighed.
“To tell you the truth, I added you by mistake too. I thought you were Blake.”
“I realized later and meant to delete you. But you kept messaging me daily. I felt awkward cutting you off cold turkey.”
“But honestly? Talking to you got me exhausted.”
Asher’s lips trembled with anger.
[That was brutal…]
[Did Luna have to roast him? The male lead wasn’t even into her!]
[Actually, Luna’s fair. Male lead ghosted her first. Mutual mistake? Mutual delete is clean.]
Wow. After days of nasty comments, there was a reasonable one. I was kind of moved.
Asher’s grip tightened on my arm. I hissed in pain and yanked my arm free.
Since Asher was leaning on crutches, the yank made him lose his balance, stumbling backwards.
I gasped. Before I could reach Asher, a long-fingered hand shot out and steadied him firmly.
Blake let go of Asher and looked at me. “Got a minute?”
He showed zero sign of having done a good deed.
I blinked, “Uh, yeah?”
“Let me buy you dinner.”
“Deal!” I grinned instantly, “Spicy or mild? I know a great spot.”
Asher stood there, invisible.
Facing Blake, he felt even more humiliated.
Too mortified to speak, he turned and hobbled away. But after a few steps, he stopped and turned back, snorting,
“Blake Thorn. So she’s your type? You like someone playing the field?”
Ugh. Baseless slander was easy as breathing.
Blake and I just stared at him.
He seemed to realize he’d gone too far. His face flushed crimson as he limped off.
After Asher left, it hit me that they were roommates. If Asher spotted me lurking near the library, Blake probably did too.
He wouldn’t misunderstand, would he?
Just as I was about to explain, he said, “Come on. Dinner first.”
Blake took me to a small Italian place tucked away in a side street.
Great decor. Fantastic food. And since it was a bit out of the way, the place was really quiet.
Stuffed and satisfied, I leaned back in my chair with a sigh.
Blake put down his fork.
“Luna, about Wade Carter…”
I jumped, “Zero romantic interest!”
Blake paused, then a small laugh escaped him,
“That’s not what I meant.”
I fiddled with my napkin, “Whatever you meant, I’m clarifying upfront. I am still pursuing you, after all.”
Blake glanced away, his ears turning distinctly pink.
Was he… blushing? I hadn’t said anything particularly flirty!
Maybe to break the awkwardness, Blake cleared his throat,
“Don’t get too close to Wade.”
“He… could hurt you.”
My eyes widened, “You know he’s the one hurting the cats?”
Blake frowned, “How did you—”
Meeting my gaze, he fell silent for a beat.
Then admitted, “I’ve been investigating him for a while. It took time. I’m sure it’s him.”
Watching his expression, I ventured, “Blake, can you answer something for me?”
“Go ahead.”
“Some people said they saw you… near Willow Creek. With a cat. What really happened?”
Blake was quiet for a long moment.
Just as I started to worry I’d overstepped, he spoke,
“That night, I was walking back from off-campus. Passed Willow Creek and heard a… horrible cry. I was short. I wasn’t sure I’d heard it. I went to look.”
His voice tightened, “I found a little kitten. Neck snapped.”
“I knelt down… to see if it was… hopeless. Then a girl saw me crouch over it… she screamed and ran. You know the rest.”
I felt sick to my stomach. Furious.
“Did you try to explain?”
“Pointless,” Blake said, “No evidence it wasn’t me. No evidence it was anyone else. With no proof, people believe the loudest lie.”
“You?” He looked at me directly, “How do you know it wasn’t me? Why investigate Wade?”
I propped my chin on my hand, “I believed you. You wouldn’t hurt a cat. Wade? Lucky guess, I guess.”
Blake wasn’t buying it, “Why believe me?”
I smiled, “You never asked how I got your Instagram, did you?”
Blake looked startled.
“Freshman year,” I said, “I saw you under that big oak feeding a kitten. Really gently. It stuck with me. And it took asking five different people to get your Instagram.”
“You were hard to add,” I added, “I tried like, six times before you finally accepted.”
“Someone who’s that gentle with a scared kitten?” I shook my head, “Couldn’t be the cat killer.”
Blake’s ears… were definitely red again.
I bit back a grin. Blake was surprisingly pure.
Wade started acting strange.
He stayed later and later at the library. And instead of heading straight back to his dorm, he would wander campus.
He constantly scanned the area, noting camera locations.
Blake told me a cat near the gym had just had a litter…
Wade was probably getting ready to act.
…
Monday night, 11 PM. Wade slipped out of his dorm.
He followed a path he’d clearly rehearsed. Near the library flowerbeds, he lured a tiny kitten out with a squeeze treat, scooping it easily into his backpack.
He avoided cameras, heading towards an old, disused equipment shed tucked behind the football field.
Wade was buzzing. It had been over a month since his last… release.
The campus watch was tighter now; he needed to be careful.
His hands trembled slightly as he stroked the kitten’s soft fur.
“Shh… it’s okay…”
He murmured, but a twisted smile pulled at his lips.
The kitten let out a feeble mewl, tiny claws scrabbling uselessly against the nylon.
Wade’s heart pounded. His breath hitched.
He loved this feeling—holding life in his hands and deciding its end.
“It won’t hurt long…”
He crooned, pulling a thin cord from his pocket, looping it expertly around his fingers.
THUD!
The shed door slammed open!
Before Wade could react, a dark figure surged forward, tackling him hard to the concrete floor.
“AAGH!”
Pain exploded as his head cracked against the floor, vision swimming.
The backpack was ripped away, the kitten scooped out in a flash.
Wade struggled to look up, blinking through the haze.
“Blake?!” Wade’s eyes widened in shock and fury, “You piece of—”
Blake’s gaze was ice. He crushed Wade’s shoulder with one hand, holding up his phone with the other —
Screen glowed. The phone was recording the scene.
Wade’s face went paper-white.
“You… you followed me?! Get OFF me!”
Blake just increased the pressure. Wade gasped in pain.
He kept spitting curses.
WHAM!
Blake’s fist connected with Wade’s face. The curses died. Blood spurted from Wade’s nose.
“Shut. Up.” Blake’s voice was arctic, “Everyone will know what you did to those cats.”
Wade trembled violently. Raw terror flooded his eyes.
“N-no… you can’t…” He stammered, “I… I was just…”
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