Page 27 of Revenge is a Witch

"No time to explain!" I huff, pulling him along. "Just trust me."

He chuckles, easily keeping up with my pace. "Do I have a choice?"

"Not if you want to survive," I mutter, though I can’t help the small smile creeping onto my face as we rush off toward whatever trouble Phase Two is about to bring.

As Derek and I dash across campus, my heart races—not just from the sprint but from the sheer anticipation of what comes next. We make our way toward the football field, ducking under the bleachers where Hank is already waiting, looking impatient as ever with his laptop balanced on his knees.

He raises an eyebrow as we approach. "You know, I have better things to do than hang out in a football field on a Saturday morning."

"Sorry," I huff, still catching my breath. "Lost track of time."

Derek looks out onto the field, where football practice is in full swing, and it hits him. "Oh, right. Saturday morning practice... forgot that was a thing."

Underneath the bleachers, we have the perfect view—a spy’s dream, really. The metal framework creaks slightly as we settle in, the scent of freshly cut grass mingling with sweat and whatever weird combination of teenage body spray is floating in the air. From here, I can see the cheer squad’s bags lined up in a neat little row, like they’re the prized possessions of a bizarre handbag display. You know, because nothing says "team spirit" like a pile of overpriced accessories.

Of course, it’s not just the bags we’re watching. No, that would be too easy. Sitting amongst the pile of cheerleader paraphernalia are the boyfriends, dutifully playing watchdogs, as if the greatest threat on this field isn’t the toxic blend of arrogance and aggression coming from the football players. And who’s the most ridiculous of them all? Naturally, it’s Sebastian.

But unlike the rest of the guys, who are pretending to be interested in football or keeping the other guys away from their girls, Sebastian couldn’t look more uninterested if he tried. He’spractically lounging, completely oblivious to the chaos around him, totally absorbed in a book. Abook, of all things. Because, of course, in the middle of all the testosterone and cheerleader energy, Sebastian is the one guy cool enough to sit back and casually read like he’s in a coffee shop, not on the bleachers of a Saturday morning football practice.

I stare for a second longer than I should, and for a brief, fleeting moment, I think to myself,why is that so hot?A guy with a book? Ugh, Zaria, get it together. There’s nothing attractive about him being able to completely ignore the world around him while looking all broody and mysterious. Nope. Not hot at all.

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand.

"Okay," I whisper to Derek, "we need to get Kyla’s phone."

Derek glances toward Sebastian, who’s practically sitting on top of the bags. "Yeah, that’s gonna be a lot harder with her vampire boyfriend parked right there."

I smirk. "I'll get it."

Derek looks skeptical but shrugs. "Your funeral."

With a deep breath, I creep forward, making sure to stay hidden under the bleachers as I approach Sebastian from below. "Sebastian," I whisper.

Without looking up from his book, he responds instantly. "You want her phone?"

I blink, taken aback. "How did you know?"

Sebastian’s lips quirk into a small smirk, though he still doesn’t take his eyes off the page. "Lucky for you, all the shifters are out on the field. I’m the only vampire on the bleachers today. Anyone else with sensitive hearing would’ve caught your whole plan."

I groan, but I can’t argue with him. "Are you gonna help or not?"

Without hesitation, he reaches into Kyla’s bag, pulls out her phone, and passes it through the bleacher slats to me. "Be quick."

I grab the phone and rush back to Hank, who’s waiting with his laptop open. He plugs the phone in and taps a few keys, his fingers moving fast over the keyboard. After a moment, he unplugs the phone and hands it back to me.

"Got it. Now hand it back before anyone notices," Hank mutters.

I hurry back to Sebastian, holding the phone up through the bleachers. As he takes it, our fingers brush for just a second, and I feel a strange jolt—like a spark of static. It throws me off for a moment, but I quickly shove the feeling down, chalking it up to adrenaline.

Sebastian slides the phone back into Kyla’s bag, still not taking his eyes off his book. "Good luck, Z."

I nod, even though he can’t see me, and retreat back under the bleachers. Hank stands up, slinging his laptop bag over his shoulder.

"Let’s move to the cafeteria," he suggests. "Too many prying eyes here."

We find a booth at the café, and of course, Derek slides in right beside me. Lately, he’s been a little…touchierthan usual. I don’t know why, but he’s definitely a bit closer than necessary, like he’s using me for body heat or something. Maybe it’s a “being a good friend” thing, or maybe it’s something else. Either way, I’m not sure I want to figure it out right now.

Hank, on the other hand, has no time for subtlety. He pulls out this second phone—close enough to Kyla’s, but not quite thereal deal—and plugs it into his laptop. His fingers fly across the keyboard in a blur, tapping away like this is just another day hacking into someone’s life. Which, knowing Hank, it probably is.

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