“Get rid of me?” I ask sharply. The first thought that pops into my mind is a man in the distance with a sniper rifle.

“He said they wanted you out of Bramppath.”

“Oh.” Yeah that sounds more realistic.

“So you need to know that’s what’s at risk here. If we keep seeing each other and we’re caught by the wrong person—”

“I’m not breaking up,” I say fiercely. “I don’t care what they threaten us with.”

Unless it’s a sniper, maybe.

Rose’s face is serious. “Don’t be flippant about that, Danni. It wouldn’t necessarily stop at removing you from the school. They could send your family away. You and your mum, your visas…”

Our visas? I try not to let on how much the thought of that rattles me. “It wouldn’t come to that, surely?”

“No, not surely. They did it to my dad. They deported his girlfriend, when he wasn’t much older than me.”

Okay, well that’s terrifying. And horrifying. But it won’t happen, because we won’t get caught. I’m not letting myself be bullied. Not again. Not anymore.

When Rose sees my look of defiance, she gives a weary kind of nod. She doesn’t look one bit disappointed, though. “Yes, well, that means we’re going to have to hide it completely. No friendship, no contact, as far as anyone but the two of us are concerned. We message each other using different contact names, or burner phones. We see each other once everyone else is asleep only. And we tell everyone we know we’re staying away from each other. Including Eleanor and Molly. Including Theodore and Sidney.”

“You think it could be one of them?” I ask, aghast.

“I think the stakes are too high to assume anything right now. Until we know more, the only people I trust are standing right here.”

It doesn’t make any sense to me. Why would Theodore or Sidney want to interfere in our lives? Why would Eleanor or Molly? But at the same time, I get what Rose is saying. An awful lot of anonymous strangers started becoming very interested in our business all at once. I think of the first forum poster, the one who created the essay using photos and videos from Molly’s socials. I figured it was one of Molly’s many fans. But what if it isn’t a fan? What if it’s one of Molly’s … friends?

Shivering, I turn back to the woods. In the daylight they seem kind of quaint, welcoming, like something from a fairy tale. One of the nice ones, not “Hansel and Gretel.” Now, they’ve got more of a Blair Witch Project vibe.

“Done,” I say. “It’s just between us.”

“Between us.”

“But as long as it’s just the two of us? I’m not setting foot in those damn woods.”