Trent leaned in, laughing so hard he spit. "Look at her. Look at her." The water muffled everything. Nadira's lungs screamed.
Her heartbeat hammered against her skull. Every second felt like a fist, squeezing the air out of her body. She tried to twist out of Riker's grip, but he slammed her down again, submerging her deeper. Her fingers slipped on the wet rim. The rooftop spun.
The sky vanished. All she could feel was the cold, cold water, cold hands, cold hatred. Her foot slid, losing what little balance she had. The bucket scraped violently against the ground, tilting under the force. Riker laughed, breath hot against her ear.
"What? Suddenly quiet, not so proud now." But Nadira wasn't quiet. She was calculating. In the darkness behind the waters blur, something shifted inside her.
Not panic, not fear. Something older, sharper, forged through years of discipline on judo mats where breath and balance meant survival. Her fingers curled not to pull away, but to anchor. Her knee adjusted not in retreat, but in alignment. Her lungs burned, but she held because she knew something they didn't.
This wasn't how her story ended. Riker yanked her up for air just enough for her to cough, choke, gasp before slamming her down again. Her scream drowned into bubbles. The boys cheered louder. "More!
Do it again! Make her beg!" she asked for it. Water sloshed everywhere, splattering across their jackets, dripping off her chin, soaking her collar. The rooftop floor turned slick and dangerous. But something else was happening, something none of them noticed.
In the far corner of the rooftop, mounted high on the rusted metal panel, a tiny maintenance camera, a camera most people assumed was broken, blinked awake. A green light flickered steadily, recording, storing, capturing every second. The wind pushed aside a loose cable just enough for the camera's view to widen and center perfectly on the chaos unfolding around the bucket. Riker pressed harder. "Look at her, boys.
Little princess can't swim." Zayn leaned closer. "Hey, pull her up. Let's see her face when she cries." Riker yanked Nadira upward.
Water cascaded off her hair. Her chin. Her eyelashes. She coughed violently, gripping the ground. Her breath ragged and raw.
But her eyes, her eyes weren't the eyes of a frightened girl anymore. They were cold, focused, predatory. Riker froze for a split second. Just a split second, but it was enough because Nadira had reached the line. The line between prey and something far more dangerous.
Her soaked hair clung to her cheeks. Her hands, trembling from cold, steadied against the concrete. Her shoulders squared. Her jaw tightened. Her fear didn't vanish.