Chapter 11 Blackmoore Four #2
Noah grins at that. “Oof. I like her.”
I glance over the instructions on the projected slide, then point. “Start the midline incision at the sternum. Cut shallow or we’ll tear through the lower organs.”
Tex narrows his eyes, but he does it. Clean, steady. I hold the tissue back with forceps. Noah angles the light. We fall into rhythm.
“Digestive or respiratory?” Noah asks, peering over the pig.
“Digestive,” I say at the same time as Tex.
His gaze flicks to mine. “You actually know this?”
I nod. “Liver’s right there. Dark brown, lobed. Stomach’s tucked under the left lobe. That tube you just nudged? That’s the esophagus.”
Noah whistles low. “Okay, overachiever.”
“Guess I’m not dead weight after all,” I murmur, lips twitching.
Tex doesn’t answer. He just starts cutting again—slower this time, more careful. I catch him watching me from the corner of his eye as I point out each part with precision.
By the time we’ve labeled the major systems and entered our data, our tray is the cleanest one in the room. Noah logs the results while I remove my gloves with a satisfying snap.
Tex leans back, arms crossed again—but this time, it’s not a wall. It’s evaluation.
“You’re not bad,” he says finally.
I arch a brow. “That’s your version of a compliment?”
Noah laughs. “That’s practically a love letter coming from him.”
I smile faintly, but inside, something steadies.
The hall is quiet when I get back from class.
My feet drag. I’m tired — not just from school, but from always being on alert since the ‘Blackmoore Four’ entered my day. I’m already counting down to a hot shower and some quiet relaxation before diving into homework.
But then I see it.
My door. My key is sitting in the door lock.
I freeze. My heart stutters.
I know I locked it. I remember the way the key clicked when I turned it. I had the key. I pat my pocket and search my bag. It’s not anywhere. I look back at the key sitting in the lock.
I push the door open slowly.
Everything looks the same… at first. And then it doesn’t.
My pillows have been fluffed, but they’re facing the wrong direction. The window’s cracked open just slightly — and I always close that. There’s a notebook on my desk that was tucked in the drawer, now laid out with the page open.
Not vandalized. Not messy. Just… touched.
Like someone went through everything I own and then put it all back just enough to drive me insane.
My breath catches. I walk in. Careful. Slow.
The hoodie I always read in? Gone from my bed.
A necklace I’ve never worn? Sitting neatly on my pillow.
And worst of all—the framed photo strip of me and Maeve… turned face down.
My skin prickles.
Not a single thing is technically damaged. If I report it, they’ll say nothing was stolen. No harm done.
But I know what this is.
This was intentional. They wanted me to know they were here. That they could come back anytime they wanted.
And there would be nothing I could do about it.
I make sure my door is locked.
I sit stiffly on the edge of my bed, phone gripped in both hands. The silence in the room presses down on me, heavier now that I know someone’s been here. Touched my things. Rearranged my world just enough to unsteady it.
I hate how my fingers shake when I open Lucian’s contact.
He answers on the second ring.
“Isobel?”
“Yeah. It’s me,” I say. My voice is too thin. I swallow, trying to thicken it with steel. “I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
I stare down at the turned-over photo of Maeve. Right where someone left it.
“I need another lock. A better one. Something they can’t pick or swipe the key or… whatever. I just—” I stop. Breathe. “I need this room to be mine.”
Lucian’s voice is quiet for a beat. “Did someone break in?”
“Yes,” I say, even though technically… no one would call it that. “Not in a normal way. Nothing’s missing. But someone was in here, and they wanted me to know it. They were deliberate.”
His silence sharpens. I can almost hear him mentally snapping his fingers at someone. Making a list. Fixing it.
“Do you know who did this?”
“I have an idea but there’s no proof.”
“I’ll handle it,” he says. “I’ll have a specialist come tonight. Not just a better lock, but a full security system. This won’t happen again.”
A knot in my chest loosens. Not all the way—but just enough that I can breathe again.
“Thanks,” I whisper. “Really.”
He lowers his voice. “I promised you’d be safe. I meant it.”
When we hang up, I stand. I walk to the window and slam it shut. I pull the curtains. I straighten the photo of me and Maeve, flipping it upright again.
They think they can scare me? Fine.
But they’re not taking this room from me.
I spend the next hour going through all my things, putting them back where they belong, while meticulously looking around for any shred of evidence to confirm my suspicions.
But they were careful. They left nothing behind.
Checking my phone, I make my way down to the dining hall. I grab a sandwich and some snacks to take back to my room to eat in peace.
Shortly after I finish my dinner, there’s a knock.
“Max! Preston!” I smile.
“Hi, Iz!” Max steps inside, giving me a quick hug.
Preston follows and offers me a high five.
“Lucian said some people broke into your room?” Preston asks.
I roll my eyes, shutting the door behind them. “Nah, someone must’ve lifted my key. They just did it to mess with me.”
Max’s playful smile disappears. “Who’s messing with you?”
I giggle. “Calm down, it’s okay. Nothing I can’t handle. If anything, I’m being hazed.”
Preston lifts an eyebrow, studying me. “If you say so.”
The first thing they do is remove the lock entirely. It’s dismantled in less than two minutes.
In its place, they install a high-tech thumbprint lock with a secondary six-digit code. A small screen glows softly above the knob, and I’m shown how to set my print, my backup pin.
“No override,” Preston says. “Well, except Lucian. But only yours works. Not even school administration can get in.”
“But if you want to add anyone, you can calibrate it with the app we’ll install on your phone.”
Good.
Then come the cameras.
Three total — one just above the door, another in the far corner facing the windows, and a third angled to cover the entire room in a wide sweep. They’re tiny. Sleek. Matte black. Easy to miss if you’re not looking for them.
Motion detection. Night vision. Audio pickup. All encrypted. All synced directly to a secure server only I can access.
They set up an app on my phone. It pings when there’s motion and I’m not in the room. Records anything suspicious. Saves clips instantly.
“There’s a panic feature,” Max holds out a small pendant. “Press and hold for three seconds, and it’ll alert us and the campus emergency response. Someone will be here in under two minutes.”
I take it.
It’s light. Cold in my hand.
They test everything. Show me how to lock and unlock the system manually, how to review footage. The door clicks shut with a mechanical hum that feels solid. Permanent.
By the time they leave, it’s well past dark.
I stand in the middle of my room and breathe in the silence.
Safe. This room is mine again.
I walk over to the nightstand and place the pendant next to the photo of Maeve and me — upright this time. Just the way I like it.
Then I curl up on my bed and open the app. I scroll through the live feed of my own room, watching the quiet. The stillness. I watch until my eyes drift close and I fall asleep.
.