The Edison Coffee House glows like a warm beacon against the winter afternoon, its exposed brick walls and leather couches offering refuge from Riverside's carefully maintained perfection. Hannah curls deeper into her favorite corner, an ancient copy of "The Secret History" resting on her knees. The holiday season has transformed her usual study spot into something almost magical - fairy lights twining through industrial pipes overhead, the scent of cinnamon and espresso filling the air.

Her phone buzzes with another Snapchat notification, and her heart performs its usual acrobatics when she sees the name: NateBrooks67. She opens it with fingers that definitely aren't trembling, and there he is - perfect as a magazine ad in a ski lift somewhere in Aspen. Even through his helmet visor, those eyes still make her breath catch. That smile - the one that haunts her dreams - gleams bright against the backdrop of snow-covered peaks. "Another day on the tracks 🎿❄️" the caption reads, and Hannah hates how just seeing his handwriting makes her stomach flutter.

Things have shifted since Winter Ball, like someone rewrote the rules without telling her. Suddenly Nate Brooks - who used to exist only in careful distance and occasional Instagram likes - is sending her daily snaps, asking about her day, remembering things she mentioned weeks ago. It feels surreal, like she's starring in someone else's story.

Hannah angles her phone carefully, capturing herself against the coffeehouse's brick wall. She scrutinizes the image - her dark hair falling in waves around her face, winter light catching just right through the industrial windows. She hits send before she can second-guess herself.

His response is immediate: "Love what you've done with your hair. The waves suit you 😊"

Hannah reaches up self-consciously, touching the curls she'd spent an embarrassing amount of time creating this morning. They do look different - softer somehow, more romantic than her usual practical style.

"Thanks!" she types, then hesitates. The cursor blinks at her like a dare. Before she can talk herself out of it, she adds: "Though nothing compared to your perfect helmet hair 😉"

The moment after hitting send feels like free-falling. Did she go too far? Was that too obvious? But then his response appears - a selfie of him biting his lower lip, eyes sparkling with something that makes her insides turn to liquid.

Suddenly her phone disappears from her hands, snatched away with surgical precision. Hannah looks up to find Alex Winters looming over her, all black leather and careful concern.

"Hannah. Marshall." Alex's voice carries equal parts affection and exasperation. "What did I tell you about getting between Amber Rosenberg and her property?"

"We're just friends!" Hannah protests, heat flooding her cheeks. "We went to elementary school together. He's just being nice."

"Nice?" Alex arches one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Nate Brooks doesn't do 'nice' unless he wants something. Trust me on this - that boy is bad news wrapped in a very pretty package."

She tosses Hannah's phone back with practiced nonchalance before settling into the opposite armchair, combat boots landing on the coffee table with careful irreverence. Steam rises from the cup in her hand - probably that weird lavender honey latte she's been obsessed with lately.

"I know what I'm doing," Hannah mutters, but the words sound hollow even to her own ears.

"Do you?" Alex's dark lips curve into something between a smile and a warning. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks an awful lot like playing with fire. And not the fun kind."

Hannah twists her hands in her lap, suddenly fascinated by a loose thread on her thrift store sweater. "I promise I'll be careful," she says.

"You better be." Alex's dark nails tap against her coffee cup, creating a rhythm that sounds like warning bells. "Because people who get too close to their world? They have a habit of vanishing. Like Emily Thorne."

Hannah's head snaps up. "You knew Emily?"

"We weren't best friends or anything." Alex shrugs, but something flickers across her face. "Just smoked together sometimes behind the gym. She was cool though - didn't give a shit about designer labels or social hierarchy. Until..."

"Until what?"

"Until she started hanging with Jake's crew. Nate, Susan, the whole golden circle." Alex's voice carries an edge Hannah's never heard before. "Then one day - poof. Gone. Some bullshit about moving to Seattle. Instagram deleted, Snapchat dead, not even a goodbye."

The name hits Hannah like a physical blow. With everything that's happened - Lisa's betrayal, Winter Ball drama, this strange new thing with Nate - she'd completely forgotten about Emily Thorne. About all of them.

"When exactly did Emily disappear?" Hannah asks carefully, her detective instincts humming to life.

"Last summer? Right after..." Alex's eyes narrow suddenly. "Why are you so interested in ancient history, Marshall?"

Hannah hesitates, the weight of secrets pressing against her ribs. Should she tell Alex about Amber's warning? About Lisa's story from Hampton Beach? About her own terrifying encounter with Jake in that pool house?

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"Did you know Victoria Reynolds too?" she asks instead. "Or Megan Carter?"

"Victoria?" Alex sits up straighter, her boots hitting the floor with a decisive thud. "Yeah, she was one of Emily's friends. Total Jake Woodland groupie - followed him around like he hung the moon or something." Her dark lips curve into a smirk. "Not that I blame her. Boy's got good weed connections."

"They transferred schools," Hannah says softly. "All of them. Right after..."

"After what?" Alex leans forward, all traces of casual indifference vanishing.

"Hannah Marshall, what exactly aren't you telling me?"

Hannah meets Alex's intense gaze across the coffee table, something electric crackling in the space between them. Because maybe this is it - maybe Alex Winters, with her carefully cultivated outsider status and mysterious connections, might be exactly the ally they need.

"I think Jake Woodland raped those girls," Hannah says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Or at least one of them at Hampton Beach this summer."

Alex's perfectly lined eyes narrow. "That's a pretty serious accusation, Marshall. Like, life-ruining serious if you're wrong."

"He tried to force himself on Lisa Chen at Hampton," Hannah continues, the words tumbling out now that she's started. "And then all those girls just vanished. Too many coincidences."

"So what - you think Jake Woodland somehow managed to assault three different girls in one night?" Alex's laugh holds no humor. "Trust me honey, I've had my encounters with Jake. He's not exactly..." She holds up her pinky finger and wiggles it suggestively. "Let's just say his equipment doesn't match his ego."

"He tried to force himself on me too," Hannah whispers, the words hanging in the heated air between them. "At Halloween. In his pool house."

The change in Alex is instant and terrifying. All traces of sarcasm vanish as she reaches across the table to pull Hannah into a fierce hug. "Oh god, Hannah... did he...?"

"No," Hannah says quickly, breathing in Alex's weird perfume. "I got away. But something happened at Hampton Beach - something big enough that they'd do anything to keep it buried."

"And Lisa?" Alex pulls back slightly, studying Hannah's face. "What happened with her?"

"One day we were getting close to something. We found Megan Carter in Brookswood, Alex. She was terrified - like, physically shaking at just the mention of Hampton Beach." Hannah swallows hard. "And now Lisa won't even look at me. She says she made everything up, but I saw her face when we talked to Megan. Whatever happened that night, it was real. And they're all protecting it."

"They have something on her," Alex says, her dark lips pressing into a thin line. "That's how they work. Find your weakness, exploit it, keep you in line."

Hannah nods, remembering Lisa's face that day in the cafeteria - the fear behind her carefully constructed dismissal. "I've tried talking to her, but she just... she shuts down completely. Like she's terrified of something worse than just social exile."

"What about the other girls?" Alex asks, her fingers drumming against her coffee cup. "Have you tried reaching out?"

"Megan was our only lead," Hannah admits. "And that was a disaster. She practically ran from us, Alex. Said we had no idea what 'they' would do if she talked." She stares into her cooling coffee. "Victoria Reynolds and Emily Thorne might as well be ghosts. All their social media went dark right after Hampton.

"And now Nate Brooks is suddenly interested in you," Alex says, connecting dots with dangerous precision. "Right when you're digging into all this."

Hannah's heart performs painful acrobatics in her chest. Because of course Alex would see it - the careful timing, the sudden attention from someone who's spent years pretending she was invisible. "He's different," she whispers, but the words sound hollow even to her own ears.

"No, honey," Alex's voice carries a gentleness that makes Hannah's eyes burn. "He's not. He's just better at hiding it. Remember - he was there that night too, right? Whatever happened at Hampton Beach, Nate Brooks helped bury it."

The truth of those words settles around Hannah's shoulders like lead. Because deep down, she's known it all along, hasn't she? Known that the boy who shares fruit roll-ups and remembers her coffee order is the same one who stands silent while his best friend destroys lives.

"Should I keep talking to him?" Hannah asks, her voice uncertain. "Or cut it off before..."

"No," Alex's red lips curve into something dangerous. "Keep playing his game. But flip the board, Marshall. Make him think he's winning while you collect every piece." She leans forward, her voice dropping lower. "Men like Nate Brooks? They're used to being the players, not the played."

Hannah's about to respond when movement catches her eye. Her heart stops as she spots a familiar figure several tables away. Lisa Chen sits alone, perfectly positioned to have heard everything. Her fingers move across her phone screen with practiced casualness, but something in her posture feels too rigid, too aware.

"Don't look now," Hannah whispers, "but Lisa's here. Do you think she...?"

Alex's eyes flick briefly toward Lisa before returning to Hannah. "Waiting for her YouTube prince charming, no doubt. Though..." Something calculating crosses her features. "Interesting timing."

"What do we do?" Hannah asks, her voice barely carrying over the coffee shop's ambient noise.

A wicked smile spreads across Alex's face. "Tell me something, Marshall. Have you tried accessing the school records? Transfer paperwork, disciplinary files?"

"They're classified," Hannah replies. "You need administrative access."

Alex's smile grows wider, reminding Hannah of a particularly satisfied cat. "You know what has ten fingers, desperately needs a haircut, and literally orgasms over Python code?"

"David?" Hannah's eyes widen as understanding dawns. "My cousin David?"

"The very same." Alex's dark nails tap against her cup with predatory satisfaction. "Who, as it happens, thinks it's incredibly hot when I call him a 'good boy' for breaking through firewalls."

"Are you saying..." Hannah glances around nervously before leaning closer. "David could hack the school system?"

"Oh honey," Alex's laugh carries equal parts affection and danger. "Your cousin could probably hack the Pentagon if I promised him enough positive reinforcement. Riverside High's ancient network?" She waves her hand dismissively. "Child's play."

Hannah processes this information, possibilities spinning through her mind like snowflakes in wind. Because this could change everything, couldn't it? Access to official records, transfer documents, maybe even emails between administrators...

"Think about it," Alex says, reading Hannah's expression perfectly. "Every carefully buried file, every edited transcript, every email about making 'problems' disappear." Her eyes gleam with something that looks like revolution. "All we need is one thread to pull, and their whole perfect tapestry unravels."

Hannah glances again at Lisa, who's still pretending to be absorbed in her phone. Had she heard their plans? Would she warn Amber and her carefully curated court? But then Hannah remembers the fear in Lisa's eyes that day in the cafeteria, remembers Megan Carter running through that Brookswood parking lot like hell itself was chasing her.

Some prices are worth paying. Some truths demand to be told, no matter the cost.

"Okay," Hannah says finally, her voice steady despite her racing heart. "Let's do it. Let's burn their perfect world to the ground."

Alex's smile is pure rebellion as she raises her coffee cup in mock toast. "To watching their kingdom fall" she says softly.