Chapter 11 #2
Damn, they saw me. I snatched my bag, got to my feet, and ran—not away from their gaze but toward them.
If those idiots were in my room, I had every right to confront them.
My hand clutched my scabbard as I ran back the way I came so I wouldn’t get lost in the dark.
It felt like my feet were leaving the ground as I sprinted past the buildings, then I reached the back of the dining hall and out onto the road.
My head was spinning. They had to be residents with a keycard to get in, unless…it was that Warwick prick, who likely left the dead rat in my room. Two Warwick pricks in masks. It had to be.
My anger intensified as I reached Morgana's entrance, hoping they were still there when I arrived, but then what? How do I fight them off? My keycard took two attempts before the door unlocked because my hand was trembling so much.
My heart slamming against my ribcage, breath in my chest, still, I was unsure how I was going to deal with them once I got there. Two men, but there might be more, against a girl with a knife. Well, I’ll give it a shot.
The front door automatically closed behind a little too loudly for my liking as I stepped along the hallway to the kitchen, then the common room, finding them empty.
I stayed in the common room and listened for sound, but it was far too quiet.
Taking the knife from the scabbard, I walked gently to the foot of the stairs and gazed up.
My room was near the stairwell, so I expected to see someone emerge, but again, nothing.
My foot found the bottom step, and I quietly climbed up, pausing halfway when I thought I heard a scraping sound, then realized it was my shoulder bag scraping against my jeans. Thank goodness.
Once I was up on my floor, I was surprised to find that my door was closed. I looked up and down the hallway, searching for some sign that someone was here, but was greeted with emptiness and silence.
I paused again to find my keycard in the bag, then stepped across the hallway to my door and pressed my ear against the wood. Nothing. Not a single sound.
With my heart pounding, I unlocked the door and threw it open forcefully to catch them in the act.
Silence. Even though it was dark and I couldn’t see much, the room appeared empty.
Maybe I was wrong and they were in the room upstairs or just in the next room.
Still, there was no sign of anyone even on this floor.
Before stepping inside, I reached into the darkened room, felt for the light switch on the wall, and turned it on. It seemed empty, but there could be places where they might hide, like in the closet or bathroom.
As I moved deeper into the room, I smelled a fresh mix of cologne and warm sweat.
My bed had a mark on the comforter, like someone had recently sat on it.
Two of the drawers in my cabinet were partly open, which was unusual because I hate not closing them properly.
So, they looked around and went through my stuff.
Panic shook through my body as I lurched toward the bed and lifted the mattress.
Fuck. They took my gun. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I rushed to the bathroom and swung the door open to find it was empty, but they knew how to get in, so I needed to change the locks ASAP.
I should’ve taken care of this earlier. How could I be so careless?
I looked through my drawers to see if anything else was stolen, and I couldn’t find a pair of pink panties, but I might have left them at home by mistake.
Then I remembered the note my father left me, which was still in my trolley bag stored under my bed.
Dropping to my knees, I pulled it out and flung it open, only to find the note was still there, but they could take a picture of it.
I had no way of knowing if they had opened the bag, let alone read the note.
I doubted the information in the note from my father was of interest to them, but they might use it against me somehow.
Rage rushed through my body as I started pacing to try to ease my regret. They were enemies of my father; naturally, they’d do everything they could to ruin my life here. I should’ve installed five locks and chains on the door, along with a security camera.
But the worst part was them taking my handgun. This might come back to haunt me. I had to get it back somehow. I needed to find out where the Warwicks were living and retrieve it.
I stepped up to my window and looked out over the dark sea, imagining where I was sitting at the time on the park.
They took nothing but the gun, even though they had to search around.
I secured the chain on the door and was tempted to call the police, but I had no proof that anyone was inside because the only item stolen was the one piece of contraband.
I was deep in shit.
My finger swiped for my father’s number, but I talked myself out of it when I saw his name, as he’d be so disappointed that I lost the handgun. It was irresponsible and stupid.
I slapped my forehead with my hand, wishing I could disappear forever, but I couldn’t. No, I had to solve this problem on my own without my father’s help.