Chapter 17 #2
The sun is barely up when I leave the clinic, the ultrasound picture safe in my bag. I keep touching it, as if it might disappear if I let it go. I pause on the sidewalk, breathing in the cool air, willing myself to believe I can handle whatever comes next.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I jump, nerves already shredded, but it’s only Mrs. Jackson’s name on the screen.
I answer, voice unsteady. “Hello?”
She sounds exhausted, older than usual. “Carrie, I’m feeling under the weather today. Won’t be coming in. Could you run things for me? Just keep the usual schedule, supervise the library, handle the book returns. I’ll check in if I can.”
I freeze for a second, caught between panic and a buzz of something else. I love my job, always have. Books understand me in a way no one has. “Me? All day?”
She coughs softly. “You’ll be fine. Everything’s on the clipboard, just keep the stacks tidy and don’t let the boys give you grief. I’ll call in later to check. Lock up the returns if you leave early.”
“Of course, Mrs. Jackson. I hope you feel better.”
She sighs. “Thank you, dear. You’ll do fine.” She hangs up without another word.
I stand there on the sidewalk, the world suddenly tilting. Me, in charge.
I’m not ready for this. Not today, not after everything. But maybe I am. Maybe I have to be.
At least, I tell myself, it means one less secret to worry about. I slip my hand into my pocket, feeling for the cold, heavy key to the infirmary. Without Mrs. Jackson around, I can slip it back onto her desk, cover my tracks before she ever realizes it’s missing.
Small victories, I remind myself. I need every one I can get.
I walk to the prison with a little more purpose than usual, shoulders squared, pretending confidence I don’t feel.
I’m sitting at Mrs. Jackson’s desk, pretending to organize the return slips, but my heart isn’t in it.
Every little noise in the library makes me jump.
I keep glancing at the clock, counting the minutes until shift change.
I try to look busy, to look in control, but all I feel is the panic simmering just beneath my skin.
A shadow falls across the counter. I look up and see one of the grouchier inmates—Taylor, I think, gray hair greasy under a knit cap, eyes like stones. He leans in close, his breath sour.
“Where’s the old lady?” he grumbles, voice rough and too loud for the quiet room.
I blink, suddenly all too aware of the empty library and the fact that no guards are anywhere in sight. My mind goes blank. I fumble for words, feeling the weight of his stare. “She—Mrs. Jackson—she’s out sick today. I’m just, uh…filling in.”
Taylor’s mouth twists, eyes narrowing. “So they leave you in charge?” He snorts. “That’s rich.”
My throat tightens. I’m painfully aware of how small I must look behind the desk, how alone. “If you need something, I can—” I try to keep my voice steady, but it comes out thin and uncertain.
“She took my magazine, I need it back,” he says.
“Um, she didn’t tell me anything about that,” I try.
He narrows his eyes. “It was personal property and she took it from me. Give it back.”
I swallow and look around. No guards. Great, just my luck. Things could go very, very wrong if I’m not careful. “Listen, I can get it back for you if you come back tomorrow.”
“That’s not what I asked.” He leans closer, lowering his voice, menace threading through every word. “You better hope nothing goes missing on your watch, sweetheart.”
I swallow hard, my hands gripping the edge of the desk. The urge to run is almost overwhelming. I open my mouth, desperate for anything to make him go away, but I can’t seem to find the words.
Suddenly a shadow moves in the corner of my vision. Jace appears, calm and solid, his eyes cold as steel as he steps between us. “Back off, Taylor. Take your attitude somewhere else.”
Taylor stiffens, then turns and scowls at the man behind him. Jace stands there, shoulders squared, eyes flat and cold. He doesn’t look angry—he just looks done. Taylor mutters something under his breath and slinks away, vanishing into the stacks.
I let out a shaky breath and push up from behind the desk. “Thank you,” I say, relief making my voice shake. “Really, Jace. I’m glad you’re here.” I hesitate, then add softly, “I’m glad you’re out of solitary.”
Jace doesn’t flinch. He just looks at me, unreadable, and says, “I’m sure you are.”
Something in his tone makes the hairs rise on the back of my neck.
That’s when I spot movement behind him—Levi and Nico step into view, silent, both bigger and more tattooed than anyone else in the room.
They don’t try to hide how they’re watching me.
My pulse skips. For a split second, I feel small, almost scared—they’re so intimidating, and with all three of them here, the air in the library feels heavy.
But it’s not just fear. The sight of them—big, rough, dangerous—does something to me I wish I could ignore. My heart thumps harder, my breath catching in my throat.
“You can’t be here,” I say quickly, voice trembling a little. “They’ll think—”
I trail off, realizing how this looks. Alone in the library, just me and the three of them. It doesn’t matter what I say next; everyone already knows what this looks like.
Jace shrugs, eyes still on mine. “We’ve paid our dues.”
I narrow my eyes, the fear mingling with something sharper. “You did what?”
It hits me a second later—they must have bribed the guards. No one just strolls into the library together like this, not without paying someone off.
Nico smirks, his voice low and dark. “The guards will look the other way as long as we’re quiet.”
My mouth goes dry. Part of me wants to yell, wants to tell them how reckless this is, but the other part—the reckless, hungry part—can’t look away from the three of them. I feel trapped, cornered, and turned on all at once.
“So we’ve got a few minutes,” Nico says, voice low but loaded.
I try to steady myself, but my hands are shaking. Part of me knew this was coming. The Reapers are brutal when it comes to loyalty. I know what they do to traitors, and to them that’s what I am, if they find out the truth. “I should really get back to—”
A sudden, blinding flash outside lights up the entire library, followed instantly by a crack of thunder that rattles the shelves. The lights flicker twice, then die. Emergency lights hum on over the doors, red and weak, barely illuminating anything.
Levi’s voice comes out of the dim, calm but amused. “Looks like we’ve got more than that.”
I swallow hard, pulse picking up. The library’s plunged into shadow, the only sound the hammering rain and distant thunder. My heart’s pounding, every instinct screaming that I should leave—but with the doors locked and no power, there’s no getting out.
Nico steps closer, filling up the dark space beside me, his presence all heat and confidence. Jace’s silhouette is hard, unmoving. Levi stands by the doorway, light from the storm glinting off his eyes, watching me with that quiet, dangerous focus that always makes my stomach twist.
There’s no one else. No guards, no Mrs. Jackson, no chance for interruption.
I can feel the heat from all three of them. I glance at the emergency exit, but there’s no way I could reach it—not with them standing so close, not with every secret I’ve been keeping pressing at my lips.
A branch scrapes across the window, and the next thunderclap rolls right over the building, making the glass tremble. The darkness is thick and full of tension, their attention on me almost physical.
I try to clear my throat, force some confidence. “What do you want?”
Jace steps forward, his face half in shadow. “Answers. And you’re not leaving until we get them.”
“I can talk, but not here. The lights could come back anytime. If anyone sees us, it’s over for all of us.” My nerves are shot, but I fight to keep my face calm.
Levi watches me, silent and unmoving. Jace gives the faintest nod, and Nico just grins, like he’s already thinking five steps ahead.
I lead them through the library, past the tall shelves, down the back hallway to the restricted access section.
This part of the library is always quiet, the door half-closed, the light dim.
I punch in the code on the battered keypad, heart pounding as the lock buzzes.
Inside, it’s all heavy law books, the air tinged with old paper and dust.
The guys crowd in behind me. The door thuds shut, cutting us off from the rest of the world. My skin prickles. They move around me, close, almost surrounding me. The way they fill the space is overwhelming—all power, heat, and barely restrained tension.
Jace finds a chair, sits down, arms folded. “Sit,” he says, nodding at the empty chair across from him. There’s no room to argue. I do as he says, acutely aware of Levi and Nico standing on either side, both watching me with different flavors of intensity.
Jace leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You know, solitary gives you a lot of time to think,” he says, voice low and dangerous. “And I keep going over your story, Carrie. It just doesn’t add up.”
I swallow, mouth dry. “What do you mean?”
Jace fixes me with that cold, unblinking stare. “I don’t think you’re here to help at all. You expect me to believe it’s just a coincidence you ended up in the exact same prison as us? Out of all the places in the state? I don’t buy it, Carrie.”
My cheeks flush. I want to argue, but his suspicion slices through me. Before I can find words, Nico leans against the bookshelf, crossing his arms, tattoos rippling on his forearms.
“You’re not exactly a prison person, Carrie,” he says, voice low, like he’s talking to me alone. “You sleep with a three-foot plushie in your bed.”
My head snaps toward him, surprise and embarrassment tangling inside me. “How do you even know that?”