Leon took the long route home after his shift Wednesday night. Three extra blocks, cutting through the better-lit streets near the shopping district before looping back toward his apartment. It added fifteen minutes to his walk, but it felt safer.

  The convenience store lights faded behind him as he walked, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His phone showed 9:47 PM. Late, but he'd stayed to help Mr. Chen with inventory. Extra hours meant extra pay, and he needed it.

  The street was quiet. A few cars passed. A woman walked her dog on the opposite sidewalk. Normal.

  Leon turned down the familiar side street that led to his building. Almost home. Just two more blocks.

  He didn't see them until it was too late.

  Jake stepped out from between two parked cars, blocking the sidewalk. His two friends emerged from the alley to Leon's right.

  "There he is."

  Leon's heart stopped. He took a step backward.

  "Going somewhere?" Jake asked, walking forward.

  "I don't want trouble."

  "Should've thought about that before you ran your mouth."

  "I didn't—"

  Jake's fist caught him in the stomach. Leon doubled over, gasping, and then someone shoved him from behind. He hit the pavement hard, palms scraping against concrete.

  "Not so tough now, huh?"

  A kick to his ribs. Then another. Leon curled up, trying to protect himself, but there were three of them and one of him. Someone grabbed his backpack, yanking it off. He heard a zipper, things being thrown.

  "Nothing good. Cheap phone. Some books."

  "What about his wallet?"

  Hands rifling through his pockets. Leon tried to push them away and got an elbow to the face for his trouble. His lip split, hot blood on his tongue.

  "Fifteen bucks. Pathetic."

  "Leave him," Jake said. "He's learned his lesson."

  Footsteps retreating. Laughter. Then silence.

  Leon lay there on the cold pavement, breathing carefully around the pain in his ribs. Everything hurt. His face, his stomach, his hands. He could taste blood.

  Slowly, very slowly, he pushed himself up to sitting. His backpack was on the ground nearby, contents scattered. Textbooks, papers, pens everywhere. His phone lay face-down a few feet away.

  He gathered everything with shaking hands, wincing at each movement. Some of his textbooks had landed in a puddle. Great.

  It took him ten minutes to walk the remaining two blocks to his apartment. Each step sent pain shooting through his side. He probably had bruised ribs. Maybe worse.

  Inside, he dropped everything by the door and headed straight for the bathroom. The mirror showed the damage: split lip, bruise forming on his cheekbone, scrapes on his palms and one elbow.

  He cleaned up as best he could with shaking hands, then grabbed ice from the freezer and collapsed onto his bed.

  Tomorrow was Thursday. He had school. He had work.

  He'd just have to deal with it.

  Leon closed his eyes and waited for the pain to dull enough to sleep.

  "Dude. What happened to your face?"

  Marcus was staring at him, eyes wide. They were at Leon's locker before first period, and Leon had been hoping the bruises weren't that noticeable.

  Apparently they were.

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  "Fell," Leon said, focusing on his locker combination.

  "You fell."

  "Yeah."

  "On your face? And your hands? And you're moving like you got hit by a truck?"

  Leon said nothing, grabbing his books.

  Marcus lowered his voice. "Was it Jake?"

  The silence was answer enough.

  "Jesus, Leon. When? Where?"

  "Last night. On my way home. It's fine."

  "It's not fine! Did you report it?"

  "Report it to who? The school? The cops?" Leon closed his locker, finally meeting Marcus's eyes. "And say what? I didn't see it coming, I don't have proof, and it'll just make things worse."

  "Leon—"

  "I'm handling it."

  "By getting beaten up?"

  "By staying out of his way from now on." Leon shifted his backpack, wincing. "Just drop it, okay?"

  Marcus looked like he wanted to argue, but the warning bell rang. Students flooded the hallway, heading to class.

  "We're talking about this later," Marcus said.

  Leon didn't respond, just headed toward English class.

  The day dragged. Every teacher who noticed his face asked what happened. He gave the same answer each time: fell, clumsy, it looks worse than it is. Some believed him. Some clearly didn't but didn't push.

  Jake was in his chemistry class. Leon kept his eyes down, didn't look in his direction, didn't do anything that might draw attention. Jake ignored him completely, laughing with his friends like nothing had happened.

  At lunch, Marcus was quieter than usual. Sophie noticed Leon's face and fussed over him until he insisted he was fine. Daniel made a joke about Fight Club that fell flat.

  Leon picked at his food and watched the clock, counting down until he could leave.

  Marcus waited until they were alone, walking out of school at the end of the day, before bringing it up again.

  "You're not going to do anything?"

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "Tell someone! Tell your parents, tell—" Marcus stopped. "Sorry. I forgot."

  Leon's parents had died when he was young. Marcus knew that. Everyone who knew Leon knew that.

  "It's fine," Leon said. "And there's no one to tell. I'll just avoid him. He got what he wanted."

  Marcus was quiet for a long moment. "You working today?"

  "Yeah. Four to nine."

  "Be careful."

  "Always am."

  They parted ways at the bus stop. Leon headed toward the convenience store, each step a reminder of last night. His ribs ached. His face throbbed. But he needed the money, and Mr. Chen was counting on him.

  He'd survive.

  Marcus sat in his car in the school parking lot, phone in hand. He stared at the contact labeled "Work Info" for a full minute before making the call.

  It rang twice.

  "Yes?" A woman's voice, professional and neutral.

  "This is Marcus Chen. ID number 7743."

  "Verified. Go ahead."

  Marcus took a breath. "Leon got jumped last night. Three guys from school, one named Jake Morrison. Beat him up pretty badly on his way home from work. He's got visible injuries but he's refusing to report it or do anything about it."

  "Location?"

  "Somewhere between the convenience store on Fifth and his apartment. Around 9:45 PM."

  "Understood. Any other relevant information?"

  Marcus hesitated. "He's... he's not okay. I mean, physically he'll heal, but he looked really shaken today. And he's trying to act like it's nothing."

  "Noted. Thank you for the report."

  "Wait—is someone going to help him? Because if this is just for records or whatever—"

  "Your concern is noted. Anything else?"

  Marcus bit back his frustration. He'd been making these reports for eight months now. A woman had approached him at a coffee shop one day, offered him money—good money—just to report on Leon's daily life. What he did, who he talked to, if anything unusual happened.

  He'd thought it was weird. Almost said no. But she'd offered enough money to pay for his car insurance, his gas, his weekend spending money. All for just sending occasional text reports or phone calls about his friend's boring, normal life.

  He still didn't know who employed her. Didn't know why anyone would care about Leon's routine. But the money was real, and Leon never seemed to be in any danger from it, so Marcus had convinced himself it was harmless.

  Now, though...

  "Just... make sure someone knows," Marcus said. "He won't ask for help himself."

  "Understood."

  The call ended.

  Marcus sat there, staring at his phone, guilt twisting in his stomach. He was being paid to spy on his friend. That was the reality of it, dressed up however he wanted.

  But if it meant someone was looking out for Leon—someone with resources he didn't have—then maybe it was worth it.

  He started his car and drove home, trying not to think about it too much.

  Friday morning, the rumors started.

  "Did you hear?"

  "Jake Morrison."

  "Just vanished."

  Leon heard the whispers in the hallway, at his locker, in homeroom. By lunch, everyone was talking about it.

  "Jake and those two guys he always hangs out with," Sophie said, leaning forward. "They didn't come to school yesterday or today. And apparently, their families are freaking out."

  "What do you mean, vanished?" Daniel asked.

  "I mean no one knows where they are. Parents filed missing persons reports and everything."

  Marcus glanced at Leon, who was staring at his lunch tray.

  "When did this happen?" Marcus asked carefully.

  "Wednesday night, I guess? They were all seen that evening, and then just... gone."

  Leon's hands were very still.

  "That's creepy," Daniel said. "You think they ran away?"

  "All three of them at the same time? And Jake's car is still at his house."

  The conversation continued around him, speculation piling on speculation. Leon said nothing, just pushed his food around mechanically.

  When lunch ended, Marcus caught his arm. "Leon."

  "I didn't do anything."

  "I know. But—"

  "I didn't." Leon pulled free. "I don't know what happened to them. I don't want to know."

  He walked away, leaving Marcus standing in the cafeteria, unease settling in his chest like a stone.

  On the TV in the corner, the news played. Something about international trade agreements. The ticker at the bottom scrolled past: Remeria Industries expands global security operations.

  Marcus watched Leon disappear into the hallway, then looked back at the screen.

  He had a bad feeling about all of this.

  A really bad feeling.