Chapter 25 #2
Inside, our apartment was a patchwork of survival.
The white walls were stained with age, and the ceiling pressed down low like a secret too heavy to lift.
The gray sofa was frayed but surprisingly comfortable, and our coffee table—a scuffed old trunk we found at a thrift store—added a touch of rugged charm.
Still, at least this place didn’t have holes in the walls that let in wind and damp like Philip’s miserable cabin.
I dropped my textbooks onto the couch and collapsed beside them, resting my head against the back cushion. Another day was gone, and Jack James still had no real progress. He was like smoke—always within sight, never within reach. Too cagey. Too evasive. Too afraid.
His eyes were hollowed out by exhaustion, dark circles shadowing them like bruises.
His frame was all angles and tension, like he’d been wrung out by torment I couldn’t begin to understand.
There was something haunted in how he moved—something unraveling—a mad scientist teetering on the edge.
The students mocked him mercilessly, whispering behind his back, daring him to snap.
How the hell was I supposed to get close to someone like that?
When Lee arrived, I was still parked in the same spot, stewing over the same question.
He kicked the door shut behind him, arms full of groceries. “Why the long face?” he asked, heading toward our cramped kitchen. It had a single dusty window that looked out onto a cluttered alley and countertops littered with mismatched dishes and chipped mugs.
I watched him unpack the usual horrors—boxed mac and cheese, canned Spaghetti-Os, and off-brand cereal that looked like it would turn to mush in milk.
We were scraping by on Lee’s meager paycheck and lucky to eat at all.
“I can’t get close to Jack,” I muttered. “He’s like this twitchy little rat who vanishes at the slightest sound.”
Lee snorted. “And your legendary seduction skills are failing? Shocking.”
I shot him a glare. “This isn’t just about seduction. He’s unraveling. But there’s something important in that unraveling—I know it.”
Lee slammed a can of coffee onto the counter a little harder than necessary. “So what? You want to set up a trap with cheese and wait for him to wander in?”
“No,” I said, sitting up straighter. “What if I moved into a dorm? I’d be on campus more. Easier access. I could casually bump into him—get him to trust me.”
Lee turned, narrowing his eyes. “Absolutely not. Not if I’m the one paying.”
I smirked, fluttering my lashes dramatically. “You know, there are other ways I could make money.”
“Fuck, Alina.” Lee shoved a bag of noodles into the cupboard with a loud thud. “Do whatever the hell you want. But if you end up in jail? I’m not bailing you out. Let’s make that crystal clear. If you get arrested for prostitution, you stay there. Got it?”
“Okay, okay—got it.” I sighed, throwing my hands up. “Selling my body for sex is off the table.”
I pouted, dragging out the words. “So... what can I do?”
He didn’t even look at me as he folded up the paper bags and shoved them into a cabinet. “Don’t ask me. You’re clever—figure it out.”
He grabbed a beer from the fridge, twisted off the cap, and took a long swig. “Anything else?”
I shook my head.
“Good. I’ll be in my room.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and the air felt colder somehow. I stood silently a moment longer before grabbing my bag and heading for the library. If I couldn’t seduce answers from Jack, maybe I could dig them up the old-fashioned way.
McMont College’s library was a maze of towering shelves, dust motes floating like spirits in the air. I wound through the stacks, searching for books on ancient civilizations, letting the musty scent of knowledge and time soothe my nerves.
Then I heard a muffled sound, barely audible over the quiet hum of fluorescent lights. A sob. Broken and raw.
Is someone crying in the library?
I followed the sound, threading deeper into the library’s forgotten corners, where the sun never reached and the air felt thick with secrets.
There, tucked into a chair beneath a reading lamp, sat a figure curled in on himself. His head was bowed low, his hands against his temples.
He was whispering to no one—or maybe to someone long gone.
“I can’t take this anymore. Where are you? You promised you’d come back. It’s been so long, and I’m still alone... I need you.”
My heart twisted. I looked around—no one else in sight.
“This is getting harder every day,” he continued, his voice breaking. “Everyone laughs when I talk about time travel. They mock me. But I’ll keep trying. I have to. You’re the only one who ever understood. Please... please come back.”
Who is he talking to?
I hesitated, uncertain. My instincts screamed to stay silent, but something stronger—curiosity, sympathy, maybe fate—pushed me forward.
“Jack?” I whispered.
His body jolted like I’d struck him. His eyes snapped wide and panicked, scanning the shadows around us for an escape. But there was none.
“What are you doing here?” I asked gently.
He swallowed hard. “Hiding,” he murmured. “I just needed... somewhere to be alone.”
My heart twisted at seeing him—so small, so fragile, curled into the shadows like a forgotten soul. But even as sympathy stirred, another part of me, darker and sharper, began to calculate.
Could I use this?
Could I exploit his pain, unravel his secrets thread by thread until he handed over what I needed without realizing it? He was vulnerable—unguarded. I had to know more. I had to get close to him.
“Who were you talking to?” I asked softly, stepping closer.
He froze, his back stiffening like a frightened animal sensing a trap.
“I know what it’s like,” I murmured, inching forward. “To leave behind everything. Everyone. To walk away from the only world you knew and step into one that doesn’t make sense.”
His gaze lifted, narrowed, and suspicious.
“Everything I ever loved turned against me,” I said. “That’s why I’m here. I’m searching, too. Searching for answers.”
Another step. Close enough to touch him now. Close enough to see the fractures in him spiderwebbing wider.
But before I could take another breath, he shot up from the chair, nearly knocking me aside as he bolted down the aisle and vanished between the shelves.
I sighed and sank into the warm spot he’d left behind, the chair’s fabric still holding the heat of his desperation. Elbows on knees, I cradled my head in my hands.
He was so close to breaking.
The daggers, the mission, the world I came to change faded momentarily as something else took root—the burning need to know him, every fractured piece, every hidden truth, every secret he might have hidden for centuries.
My pulse raced with anticipation.
I must know more.
And I would.
No matter what it took.