Chapter 19
Sabrina
My phone buzzes for the third time in a row.
Unknown number.
Again.
I frown at the screen in my hand. Three missed calls. No voicemail. No message.
Just the kind of vague, disquieting pattern that makes the hairs on the back of my neck lift.
I tap the side button, sending the call to voicemail without answering.
Whoever it is, they can wait.
I’m working for Pete’s sake.
I look up and turn my head so I can see through the glass windowpane on the classroom door to the hallway.
That’s when I see him.
Theo.
He’s crossing the hallway back to his station near my classroom, tall and broad and all in black.
He’s not even looking at me yet, and still—my body responds.
God, that walk.
Like he owns the ground under his boots.
My whole chest exhales, the tension in my shoulders melting the second I lay eyes on him.
He’s back.
And everything feels right again.
It had been tricky for a second when Kai first showed up.
Same height, same muscles, same face—hell, even the same no-nonsense body language.
But all it took was a moment more, even before he spoke, and I knew.
He wasn’t Theo.
Kai didn’t look at me like I was gravity.
Theo does.
And now he’s here again, and I can breathe.
I grab the walkie off my desk and begin gathering my class for indoor recess, raising my voice slightly to wrangle the post-art class chaos.
"Okay, my little loves, line up! Recess is in the gym today—jackets not needed, just your inside voices and walking feet!"
Which, of course, is met with squeals and a few rogue chortles.
But hey, I’ll take it.
We shuffle out into the hallway, and as I pass him, Theo shifts to block me playfully, that familiar smirk on his lips.
“Where’re you going, Angel?” he asks, voice low, warm.
“The gym,” I answer, beaming up at him. “Winter break makes these kids nuts if they can’t run around a little. Recess is first today, then lunch.”
“It’s the superhero!” Manny Ortega shouts, interrupting us and I grin.
“What’s up, little man?”
Theo high-fives him, melting my heart just a little bit as he does.
He gives out more high-fives, and gestures for the boys and girls to shh and listen to their teacher, which they reluctantly do.
And I get it.
I’d rather play with Theo too.
Then, he nods, falling into step behind us like he always does, eyes alert but relaxed.
The gym is already chaos when we arrive.
Grades K through 4 are packed into the space, balls bouncing, shrieks echoing off the walls, kids darting around like over-sugared fireflies.
Pure, joyful bedlam.
But I love it.
This is why I became a teacher.
The laughter. The mess. The way it all somehow still works.
I direct my students to their section of the court and keep an eye on the jump rope crew while chatting with Ms. Reyes, who’s corralling dodgeballs in the corner.
Suddenly, the fire alarm goes off.
It’s loud, deafening.
My pulse is racing.
The children scream, the teachers scramble to get the kids lined up.
I’m lucky. I have Mrs. Stuyvesant to help with recess today, and she blows her whistle and claps her hands, telling the children to find their emergency buddy and get in line..
Lily Butler trips and falls, and I help her to her feet, making sure she has her buddy’s hand.
“Don’t cry, Lily. It will be okay,” I reassure her.
The alarm is still blaring, and the lights are now out.
Precious seconds pass in a blur of noise and motion—and somewhere in the whirlwind, I lose sight of Theo.
Or maybe he loses me.
I turn to scan the edges of the room.
Nothing.
But I’m not worried about me. Not now. Not really.
The emergency lights are flashing, and I hear fire engines coming closer.
I don’t know if there’s a real fire or not at this point, but it doesn’t matter.
The rules are the same.
Line up and get everyone out safely.
I’m trying not to panic when I feel it.
A sort of breeze behind me.
A draft.
And I realize I’m standing near one of the side exits.
One of the doors that’s supposed to be locked.
Before I can react—the door swings open.
Rough hands grab me.
I gasp, but it’s too late—something drops over my head.
A hood.
Thick. Black. Smothering.
Panic claws up my throat.
I twist. I fight. I try to scream.
But a sharp voice hisses near my ear.
“Don’t. Move.”
The world in darkness.
And that’s when the real fear begins.