Veronica Bane’s Difficult Girls wasn’t just a bone-chilling debut, it was also an instant bestseller. So it makes total sense that we’ve been sitting on the edge of our seats to see what she would be writing up next for her second book. And the author is taking things one step further by allowing us to step foot into this new world with a special new reveal that really gives us a glimpse of what to expect.
Cosmopolitan has an exclusive look at Veronica Bane’s We’re All Going to Die Tonight!, which is set to be released on September 15, 2026. This time, a debate team’s trip that completely goes wrong for a variety of reasons. But the big thing on top of the list? A mystery that includes a murder. Not only do they now have to survive the night in a house together, they also have to figure out who is out to get them. Here’s some more info from our friends at Delacorte Press:
A twisty, off-the-rails mystery about seven teens, forced to spend a stormy—and deadly—night together. Perfect for fans of There’s Someone Inside Your House and No Place Left to Hide.
The members of the Coastal Canyon debate team have their reasons to hate each other: complicated pasts, thornier presents, a huge competition loss . . . Now they’re stuck at an Airbnb together for a night during what feels like the storm of the century. Can it get any worse?
Yes. Yes, it can.
A flat tire, a severed landline, someone’s unconscious, and there’s a body outside. The night is unraveling, and it’s becoming clear: no one is safe. But safe from who? A teammate? A teacher? Or is a stranger lurking nearby in the woods?
Seven students.
Three teachers.
One body.
Lock all the doors and trust no one.
After all, death isn’t up for debate.
We’re not wasting any time checking into this mystery party. You can check out the book’s trailer that gives us a hint at how bloody this overnight trip is going to get.
While we do have to wait a bit to get the whole story, you can at least continue to dive in via an exclusive excerpt you can read below. Just make sure to pre-order We’re All Going to Die Tonight! so you don’t miss what happens next!
CHAPTER 4
Kaitlyn
OCTOBER 16
11:45 P. M.
I’ve never been so fucking relieved to walk through a door.
It’s not just that my clothes are drenched or that my hair is plastered to my face or my heavy-ass duffel bag has been digging into my shoulder for the entire walk. It’s that, if I have to listen to one more person say one more word, I swear to god I’m going to scream.
I peel off my sweater and kick off my ruined sneakers, relishing the warmth of the room as I peer through the dark. Emerson flips on the lights so that the hallway and living area are cast in a soft, cozy glow. Plush patterned rugs in rich russet tones set off the enormous stone fireplace on the back wall, surrounded by more leather and mahogany than it feels should be legally allowed. There’s a long staircase and, according to Emerson, enough bedrooms upstairs for us all to have our own for the night. It’s the kind of place that would be on the cover of the Architectural Digest magazine my mom gets. She flips through it every month, peppering me with questions about kitchens and bathrooms and her plans for the house once she’s finally free of me and my sisters.
Maybe if I didn’t feel like my skin’s crawling with filth, I’d take more time to look around. As it is, all I can think about is that I need a fucking shower.
I haul my bag up over my shoulder and head for the stairs.
“Kaitlyn,” Mr. McCullough calls after me, but I wave him off. As far as I’m concerned, his teaching duties ended the second the competition ended, and the only things I want to hear out of his mouth are “We’re leaving” and “There’s no traffic on the route home.” Jay—he will never be “Mr. Jay” to me—dares to try to follow me, saying, “Kaitlyn, Mr. McCullough asked you something,” but I glare at him and he backs off.
Honestly, he should know better. And if he pushes me, I swear to god, I’ll snap, especially after everything that this fucking sorry excuse for a “team” has put me through.
Besides, no one here knows teams better than I do. Not the sorry-ass teachers they’ve got “leading” us, and not either of our co- captains, who can’t stop moping or stewing in their bullshit long enough to see what this team actually needs. Meanwhile, I’ve been on a team of some kind ever since I could walk, and honestly, you could probably argue I was on one before that. Mom has pictures of me strapped to Dad’s back while he played rec league soccer. I absorbed that shit. I thrived.
And now, because of me, Coastal Canyon hasn’t had a single losing season of volleyball in three years. Because of me, the program’s been revived from the fucking dead.
Not true for the debate team, which is a certifiable hot mess, something this weekend just proved to everyone.
Does anyone ask for my advice, though? Of course not. Because “Kaitlyn Bendix is a bitch.”
Mr. McCullough’s still shouting something about wanting to talk to all of us when we’re done showering or whatever. I also hear: “Leave the place better than we found it.” As if we have time to trash this place sufficiently. As if we didn’t leave the Hilton spotless. Or, mostly spotless. I can’t help what my lip stain does to countertops.
I climb the stairs and throw open the door to the first room I find to discover a giant bed that I can’t wait to sink into. Literally, only the fact that my jeans are splattered with mud stops me from collapsing onto the plush-looking comforter. I throw my duffel bag down, roll my jeans off as quickly as I can, and tug off my hoodie, only to hear the door creak behind me.
“Shit!” I say, whirling around. “What the— Oh.”
“Sorry,” Javi says, though he doesn’t look sorry at all. He’s got that expression on his face that he only has when I’m nearby. An easy grin, not his usual scowl. It wrenches a smile out of me, and I drop the wet hoodie I just pulled off. I walk to him in just a thread- bare Coastal Canyon Class of 2022 shirt, courtesy of my oldest sister, as he closes the door behind him.
“Took you long enough,” I say, standing on my tiptoes and wrapping my arms around his neck. God, I love that I have to stand on my tiptoes to kiss him. As a tall girl, I’m not ashamed to admit that I need a tall guy to look up at. And god, I love looking at Javi. Amber eyes. Black hair that’s slightly wavy and getting long enough to fall in front of his eyes. A jawline made for cutting glass and breaking hearts. The kind of easy grin that the other girls on the volleyball team would kill to be on the receiving end of.
A scar above his right eye that disappears into his hairline is just starting to heal. When I close my eyes, I can still remember tracing it when it was freshly made, when the blood was in his hair and I had to help him wash it out.
Mine. Completely and totally mine.
“I don’t know if we should, uh, do anything,” Javi says as I start to kiss his jaw. “If the teachers come in—”
“I don’t care,” I say, which is true. If they try, I’ll call them per- verts and threaten to sue. Sure, my parents aren’t as rich as Emerson’s, but I bet the threat would carry a little weight. I am a Bendix, after all. A Bendix who could be going to the Olympics, if every- thing goes my way, like it should.
The way it should’ve gone for my sister if everything hadn’t gone to shit.
“Yeah, well, you’re not one strike away from suspension, are you?” Javi reminds me, taking a solid step back. I pout, even though, yeah, technically he’s right. And maybe the fact that he has only one strike left is partially my fault. But he doesn’t need to throw that in my face.
“I’m not talking about doing everything,” I say, scoffing, even though I totally would if he was down. “Like they’d suspend you for kissing me.”
Javi rolls his eyes, but I can tell he’s tempted. I pretend not to notice and walk over to my duffel, bending down to unzip it so I can find my sweatpants, knowing he won’t be able to resist the view. Within seconds, he’s next to me, and I gasp as I stand and find him close. Then, his mouth is on mine, his hands on my hips pulling me against him. His clothes are soaked and the cold stings my bare skin, but I don’t care. Kissing Javi is like free-falling, like spiking a ball that wins the game. Pure addictive adrenaline that I could chase again and again.
“Shit, Kait,” Javi says as I run my hands through his perfect, gorgeous hair. He surfaces for air only to kiss me again moments later. “Are you trying to kill me?”
I giggle against his mouth. I’m not usually a giggler. Something else Javi brings out of me. Something I—
A scream tears through the house, making us both jump. In seconds, Javi’s spun around to stand in front of me, head whipping back and forth as he scans the room.
“Stay here,” he says, bolting to the door. He’s gone before I can argue, the room colder without him. I grab my sweatpants and my phone to follow him, but when I open it, I see there’s absolutely zero service. Shit. I’m pulling up my sweatpants when my door opens again.
Thankfully, it’s only Javi.
“False alarm,” he says, shutting the door behind me. “Just Marlene—”
“Kaitlyn?” Ms. Dorman’s voice from the hall cuts Javi off, and he swears.
“You better not be in there together,” she says, rapping on the wall. God, I hate her so much.
“I’m giving you two minutes,” she says. “That room better just have one of you in there by then.”
“I’m going to shower,” Javi says, loudly. “Was just seeing if this one was empty.”
He flashes me an apologetic look, and I blow him a kiss, hoping he sees in my eyes that we’re definitely not done. He leaves, the door clicking shut behind him, and I sigh as I head into the attached bathroom.
The water’s just as scalding and revitalizing as I hoped it would be, a reprieve from the shitty shower at our hotel. Honestly, I never get a decent fucking shower these days. If I’m not fighting with my sisters for the bathroom, I’m stuck dealing with the icy needles of the Coastal Canyon showers, which I see way too much of during volleyball season. Those showers are also infested with mold, and I don’t spend a single second longer in them than I have to.
Well, except for that one time.
I push my hands through my wet hair, snagging my fingers in a tangle near the top of my head. The memory of the feel of Javi’s smooth waves in my hands is fresh, and I close my eyes to relish it while I try to undo the knot with my fingers. I think of the scar on his temple disappearing into his hair, then flash to that memory of the locker room showers.
Of Javi sitting underneath one as the water poured down on him, as I tried to wash away all the blood. Blood in his hair and on his forehead. Blood on his chin. Blood on his knuckles.
Blood that mostly wasn’t his.
Reprinted from WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE TONIGHT!. Copyright © 2026 by Veronica Bane. Published by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC.
We’re All Going to Die Tonight!, by Veronica Bane will be released on September 15, 2026 from Delacorte Press. To preorder the book, click on the retailer of your choice:
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