The morning sun hit the pavement as Walter, the Vance family driver, stood by the black Rolls-Royce. He rubbed his temples, dreading the moment the front doors would open. He prayed the young master wouldn't come out wearing another neon disaster.

The heavy oak doors swung open.

Walter watched in the reflection of the polished window as the young master paused by the foyer's crystal candy bowl, casually plucking a white lollipop and slipping it into his mouth before stepping outside.

Zero stepped out. She wore a perfectly tailored Ivy League uniform. The dark blazer fit her shoulders flawlessly, the tie was knotted with military precision, and her hands were casually shoved into her trouser pockets.

Walter's jaw literally dropped.

The sunlight caught the silver tips of her short, messy hair. She had a white lollipop stick resting in the corner of her mouth. She looked devastatingly handsome, radiating a lazy, lethal arrogance.

Zero walked up to the car. Walter just stood there, staring.

She tilted her head slightly. "Open the door."

The low, magnetic rasp of her voice snapped Walter out of his trance. He scrambled to grab the handle, his palms slick with nervous sweat. He didn't dare ask a single question.

Zero slid into the spacious leather backseat. She crossed her long legs and pulled out an English financial magazine, shutting out the world.

The Rolls-Royce glided out of the estate, the city blurring past the tinted windows until they reached River City Academy.

At the main gates, clusters of wealthy students loitered. Laughter rang out as a group of boys joked about whether the "gay freak" Zero would show up crying today.

The black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb. The sheer presence of the car made the chatter die down.

Walter stepped out and opened the rear door. A long leg clad in pressed dark trousers stepped out first.

Zero emerged into the sunlight. She narrowed her dark eyes against the glare and reached up, casually running a hand through her silver hair.

The silence that fell over the courtyard was absolute.

A girl standing near the gate loosened her grip. Her Starbucks cup hit the concrete, iced coffee splashing everywhere. She didn't even blink.

The boys rubbed their eyes, a few cursing under their breath. Their brains physically could not connect this breathtaking, cold-eyed boy to the pathetic loser they mocked yesterday.

Zero ignored their gaping mouths. She shifted the lollipop to the other side of her cheek and walked straight toward the main building. Her strides were measured, unhurried.

The crowd instinctively parted for her. Girls clutched their books to their chests, their cheeks flushing crimson as they watched her back.

From the back of the crowd, a guy who regularly bullied the old Zero felt a spike of insecure anger. "Acting tough, you fucking faggot?" he yelled.

Zero stopped walking.

The temperature in the courtyard seemed to plummet. Everyone held their breath. Zero slowly turned around.

Her dark eyes locked onto the boy. There was no anger in her gaze. It was completely flat. It was the look a butcher gives a slab of meat. The killing intent radiating from her was so heavy it felt physical.

The boy's knees buckled. He stumbled backward, his spine slamming hard into a metal trash can. Cold sweat drenched his shirt.

Zero let out a soft, mocking scoff. She turned back around and kept walking.

She entered the main hallway. Whispers followed her like a physical wave. She navigated using the old Zero's memories, stopping in front of her assigned locker.

Her eyes darkened.

The metal door was covered in fresh, dripping red spray paint. Faggot. Loser. Freak.

A few feet away, a group of jocks leaned against the wall, whistling and laughing, waiting for her to break down and cry.

Zero's face remained entirely blank. She reached out a pale, slender finger and swiped it across the wet red paint. The crimson stained her skin.

She calmly pulled a crisp white handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the paint off her finger, taking her time.

The jocks snickered louder.

Without warning, Zero shifted her weight. Her right leg snapped up in a brutal, lightning-fast arc. Instead of relying on brute force her new body didn't possess, she targeted the structural weakness. Her heavy leather shoe slammed precisely into the lock cylinder.

BANG!

The explosive sound echoed down the long hallway like a gunshot. The sheer kinetic precision shattered the internal tumblers instantly. The locker door violently popped open, rebounding off the adjacent lockers with a deafening metallic screech.

The jocks flinched violently, the whistles dying on their lips.

Zero shot them a single, freezing glare. She reached into the ruined locker, pulled out a textbook, and walked toward her classroom, leaving the destroyed metal hanging on its hinges.

Zero stepped into the classroom, her textbook dangling lazily from one hand. The chaotic noise of thirty students instantly flatlined.

She ignored the wide eyes tracking her every move. She walked straight to the back row, toward the window. Her assigned seat.

Her desk-mate, Cody Boggs, a massive guy built like a linebacker, had his dirty sneakers propped up on Zero's chair, blocking her path.

Cody looked her up and down, a nasty sneer twisting his face. "Wow, the freak got a makeover. Move it, faggot. Don't get your cheap cologne on my shoes."

The entire class held their breath. A few kids in the front row snickered, waiting for Zero to stand in the aisle with her head bowed, just like she always did.

Zero didn't speak. She stood perfectly still, her dark eyes fixed on Cody. A slow, chilling smile crept onto her lips.

Before Cody could open his mouth to hurl another insult, Zero moved.

Her hand shot out like a striking snake. Her fingers clamped around Cody's thick ankle like a steel vise.

Cody's eyes widened. He tried to yank his leg back, but Zero's grip was immovable. A sharp pain shot up his shin as her fingers dug into his bone.

Zero's eyes hardened. She twisted her wrist and yanked upward with a vicious, calculated burst of kinetic force, using his own weight against him.

Cody lost his balance completely. He let out a terrified scream as his massive two-hundred-pound frame flipped backward over the desk.

CRASH.

He hit the floor with a sickening thud, his chair clattering away. The impact rattled the windows.

The girls in the front row shrieked, covering their mouths. Nobody could comprehend the physical strength required to flip a guy that size with one hand.

Cody was seeing stars. He gasped for air, his face turning purple with rage. He scrambled to get up, spitting curses. "I'm gonna kill you-"

Zero stepped forward. She raised her foot and brought her polished black shoe down hard on the center of Cody's chest, pinning him flat against the linoleum.

The air rushed out of Cody's lungs in a violent wheeze. The pressure on his sternum was agonizing. He stared up at Zero, and for the first time, raw terror flickered in his eyes.

Mr. Peterson, the history teacher, walked into the classroom, his lesson plan tucked under his arm. He stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping at the violent scene in the back row. His binder slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor.

Zero heard the noise. She slowly turned her head to look at the teacher. She didn't lift her foot off Cody's chest. She just offered a lazy shrug.

"Mr. Peterson," Zero said, her voice smooth and entirely unbothered. "Cody tripped."

Mr. Peterson looked at Cody's agonizing face, his mind struggling to process the blatant violence. His authoritative instincts weakly flared. "Vance! Boggs!" Mr. Peterson stammered, pointing a shaking finger. "Both of you, my office, immediately after class!" But as he met Zero's dark, warning gaze, the teacher swallowed hard. The sheer, suffocating killing intent in those eyes made him instinctively backtrack. "...Just to understand the situation," he added weakly, fear paralyzing the rest of his vocal cords.

Zero casually removed her foot. She hooked her toe under the fallen chair, flipped it upright, and sat down. She opened her book as if she hadn't just assaulted someone.

Cody scrambled away, clutching his bruised chest. He practically crawled back to his seat, keeping his head down, terrified to even breathe in her direction.

Forty-five minutes later, the bell rang. Zero popped her earbuds in, shoved her hands in her pockets, and walked out of the classroom, heading for the cafeteria.

As she turned the corner on the second floor, a sickeningly sweet wave of expensive perfume hit her nose.

Three girls blocked the hallway. In the center stood Kenzie Locke, the head cheerleader and Maverick Thorne's most obsessive fan. She crossed her arms, glaring at Zero with pure venom.

One of Kenzie's minions sneered loudly. "Put on a suit and think you're not trash anymore? A freak is always a freak."

Zero stopped. She pulled out one earbud. Her eyes swept over the three girls, radiating pure, unfiltered annoyance at the delay.

Kenzie stepped right into Zero's personal space. She raised a hand, her long, red-painted acrylic nail pointing directly at Zero's nose. "Stay away from Maverick, you disgusting-"

Zero's hand blurred. She grabbed Kenzie's extended finger and bent it backward with a brutal, sickening snap.

Kenzie let out a blood-curdling shriek. Her knees gave out from the blinding pain, forcing her to drop into a humiliating, half-kneeling position on the floor just to stop her finger from breaking completely.

The two minions gasped, stepping forward to help.

Zero slowly turned her head. She shot them a look so lethal, so devoid of human empathy, that both girls froze. Their legs turned to jelly. They couldn't take a single step.

Zero leaned down, her face inches from Kenzie's ear.

"Point at me again," Zero whispered, her voice a dark, demonic rasp, "and I will break your hand."

Zero released her grip in disgust. Kenzie collapsed onto the cold hallway tiles, clutching her throbbing hand. Tears of pain and humiliation welled in her eyes, but her spoiled pride wouldn't let her stay quiet.

Zero reached into her pocket, pulled out a sterile wet wipe, and slowly cleaned the fingers that had touched Kenzie. She wiped her skin as if she had just come into contact with a deadly pathogen.

The blatant disrespect shattered Kenzie's remaining sanity. She looked around at the growing crowd of students and started screaming hysterically, weaponizing the audience.

"Look at this shameless faggot!" Kenzie shrieked, her voice echoing off the lockers. "He stalks Maverick every day, gets rejected, and now he's hitting women!"

The whispers ignited. Students pointed at Zero, the old memories of the pathetic stalker bubbling back to the surface.

Zero finished wiping her hand. She tossed the used wipe perfectly into a nearby trash can. She turned to face the crowd, her expression completely deadpan.

She walked slowly toward Kenzie, stopping right in front of her. The sheer physical dominance in Zero's posture made Kenzie's screams die in her throat.

Zero parted her lips. Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried a chilling resonance that cut through the entire hallway.

"Listen closely," Zero said, her tone dripping with absolute disdain. "I have zero interest in Maverick Thorne. That arrogant, frozen block of ice means nothing to me."

The hallway went dead silent. Jaws dropped. People stared at Zero as if she had just grown a second head.

Zero's lips curved into a sharp, mocking smirk. "I used to be blind. My taste was garbage. But my eyes are fixed now."

Kenzie's face drained of color. Her ultimate weapon-the narrative that Zero was obsessed with Maverick-had just been obliterated.

Directly above them, behind the one-way glass of the second-floor VIP cafeteria booth, the atmosphere was suffocating.

Maverick Thorne, the captain of the Empire Alliance esports team, sat on a black leather sofa. As the heir to the Thorne family, even a living legend in the esports world was still required to complete his mandatory academic residency at River City Academy. His long legs were crossed. He held a cup of black coffee. His face, sculpted like a cold, unforgiving god, was turned toward the window, looking down at the drama below.

Finn O'Connell, his teammate, was pressed against the glass, a half-eaten slice of pizza hanging from his mouth. "Holy crap!" Finn mumbled around the food. "Captain, the stalker just said he's not into you anymore!"

Maverick's fingers tightened around the porcelain cup. His knuckles turned white. A surge of intense, irrational revulsion spiked in his chest.

"A trick," Maverick said. His voice was ice. He slammed the cup down onto the marble table. The sharp clack echoed in the quiet room.

He saw right through it. It was just another desperate, pathetic ploy to get his attention.

Finn scratched his blonde head. "But Captain, he looks... different today. Really different. And that move he pulled on Kenzie was brutal."

Maverick's deep blue eyes narrowed as he stared at the boy in the black suit below. A strange, irritating heat flared in his stomach.

Down in the hallway, Zero turned away from the stunned crowd. She started walking toward the cafeteria entrance.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

Years of living as a hunted hacker and operative had honed her instincts to a razor's edge. She felt it. A heavy, aggressive, predatory stare locking onto her spine.

Zero stopped walking. She didn't look around. She tilted her head back and shot her gaze directly up at the tinted, one-way glass of the VIP booth.

Behind the glass, Maverick's breath hitched. He knew the glass was completely opaque from the outside. There was no physical way Zero could see him. Yet, those sharp, dark eyes were staring directly into his.

Zero didn't know exactly who was behind the glass, but the arrogant, freezing aura seeping through the window was unmistakable. It was him.

Instead of looking away, Zero's smirk widened into something wicked and entirely defiant.

She raised her right hand, pressed her index and middle fingers together, and tapped them against her forehead in a lazy, mocking salute.

She turned and walked through the cafeteria doors.

In the VIP room, Maverick stared at the empty space where Zero had just stood. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. His thumb rubbed aggressively against the rim of his coffee cup.