The cafeteria was loud and crowded, just like every morning.
Metal trays clanged against long tables, chairs scraped the floor, and voices overlapped as students hurried to eat before the bell rang for morning classes.
The scent of warm bread, roasted meat, and soup filled the air.
Marvin sat with his friends in their usual section, his posture somehow still stiff from his healed injuries, though he tried to hide it. But the healed bruises beneath his uniform throbbed with every movement, fueling his rage rather than dulling it.
He stabbed his fork into his food and looked around.
“Did anyone see Jordan?” he asked casually, though his eyes burned with anticipation.
One of his friends chuckled. “After that well-planned punishment from Mr. Boorman? No way. Anyone would be crawling afte
