Chapter 28 #2
Like the night I broke Shayde Wylder’s nose, I channeled my earth element and sketched a rune with dirt on Hogboom’s door. With a faint click, the latch gave, and I slipped inside.
The crew filed in behind me, and Scarlet stopped. “Is that how you unlocked my shackles?” she whispered.
I didn’t respond—just met her crimson eyes. The memory of her lying filthy in that shed, chains on her ankles and wrists, knotted my throat. I nodded toward the office, silently asking her not to ask more—and she obliged.
I locked the door behind her.
The office was exactly how I remembered it: bookshelves overflowing, stacks of parchment littering every surface, a deep mahogany desk like a throne beneath the tall, arched window.
Scarlet stepped forward, eyes scanning with purpose. “We need to find that tome. Quickly.”
Everyone scattered, careful not to knock anything over. I went for the desk drawers while Rhodes and Davis rifled through stacks of books. Nash and Scarlet’s roommates combed the shelves. And the redhead lounged in Hogboom’s chair, boots propped on the armrest like she owned the place.
I shot her a glare over my shoulder as I yanked open the next drawer. “Are you going to get off your ass and help?”
She lazily spun a thin spiral of water in the air and shrugged. “Looks like you’ve got it handled.”
I scoffed and slammed the drawer. The crack of wood halted everyone’s movements.
I stood tall and turned to her. “Unlike my sister, I have no problem leaving your ass behind.”
Her eyes widened—just slightly—before her smirk returned. “Do that, and I’ll have no reason not to report your little break-in to the War Chief.”
Instinct took over. I lunged.
A rush of air slammed into my chest and shoved me back. I caught myself, eyes snapping to Scarlet. Her hand was outstretched.
“Pehper isn’t worth your energy,” her voice echoed through the marekem.
“Then why is she here?”
“Search now. Fight her later. You have my blessing.”
The urge to fight still burned at the edges—until heavy footsteps echoed in the hall.
Everyone froze.
Rhodes lifted a finger to his lips, commanding silence as the steps grew louder. A muffled voice followed. Then another set of footsteps.
Two guards.
Nash moved toward the door with measured steps, positioning himself in front of it—ready to be the first face they’d see if it swung open. The lock would buy us a second, maybe two. Just enough time to act.
The footsteps stopped. The guards stood just outside. We heard them murmur—indecipherable through the thick wood. Then… silence.
No one breathed. Every muscle locked, as if stillness could make us invisible. My heart pounded in my ears, and River’s worry bled through our bond like a knife pressed to my spine.
Then the guards walked away, their steps fading.
I exhaled.
One by one, the search resumed, tension clinging to the room like smoke.
If we’re caught, execution would be a mercy. Interrogation would be worse. I knew our father would prefer our deaths over revealing his mission to Kalluri. Under truth powder, we’d be pawns—spilling secrets the Hollow had protected for years. The thought made my stomach twist.
I closed my eyes and thought.
An idea sparked. I crossed to one of two heavy tapestries beside Hogboom’s shelves and pulled it back—just cold, flat stone.
I moved to the second.
“What is it?” Scarlet asked, footsteps soft as she joined me.
I yanked the tapestry aside and sighed at the same sight—a dead end.
Then Scarlet’s hand lifted, pointing above us. “There. That stone’s set differently than the others.”
She was right. One block near the top was mortared unevenly, its edges slightly misaligned.
I stretched, but my fingers came up a foot short.
Scarlet stepped closer, and Wylder moved to my side.
Before either of us could reach it, Rhodes stepped forward—his height making quick work of the problem.
He tugged the loose stone free and handed it to me, then reached into the narrow space behind it.
A scrape—material against stone.
Rhodes pulled out a dusty, leather-bound tome—almost identical to the one in Scarlet’s pack.
He held it between them, smirking. “This feels oddly familiar.”
Scarlet accepted the book with both hands, voice soft and steady. “Thank you.”
Everyone crowded in as she wiped dust from the cover and cracked it open.
My heart jolted.
The pages were blank.
She flipped through in a panic, searching for even a trace of ink. This tome was thicker than the first, but just as cryptic. Her fingers trembled as she turned another page.
“Maybe we need to take it to the Eternal Tomb—like the other?” Her eyes met mine, urgent.
I shook my head. “We don’t have time. We need to go.”
Her head tilted, lips parting to argue—but her eyes did all the speaking, sharp with that silent challenge.
“We may not get another chance,” her voice pressed into my thoughts. “We didn’t come this far just to stop here—”
“We’ve come farther than anyone in twenty-one years,” I cut in, my mental voice clipped and final. “We take both tomes back to the Hollow. We report, then decide what’s next.”
Scarlet nodded and slipped the tome into her pack as Rhodes carefully replaced the loose stone. Hoods went up; shadows swallowed our faces. Davis peeked through the crack in the door, then signaled with a sharp nod—the coast was clear.
We filed out of Hogboom’s office. I paused last, locking it behind me with another rune. The quiet click sounded too loud.
Without wasting another second, we slipped back into the passage.
Rhodes took the lead briefly, explaining in a low voice where the abandoned terrace was.
Davis nodded and took point, navigating the tunnels with practiced ease.
We emerged into a narrow hallway. As we neared the closest exit for our escape, the corridor opened into a four-way intersection.
We had almost completed the mission unseen when a voice split the air.
“Stop!” a guard bellowed down the hall.
Without hesitation, we surged forward, scattering like shadows across the moonlit corridor. We ducked around turrets, darted past old armor stands and forgotten relics, lungs burning as we tore through the neglected wing.
At the terrace, I spun and slammed the heavy door, thrusting my hand toward the frame. I channeled energy into the earth; hardened vines snaked up and over, twisting into a barricade.
“Go—now!” Nash barked, pointing to the ledge.
The new girls climbed first, scaling the enchanted vine ladder. Davis next, then Nash. That left Scarlet, Rhodes, and me.
Behind us, the door exploded.
The barricade shattered in a blast of splinters and dust. A guard stormed through the wreckage, wide-shouldered and furious, chest heaving. His dark blue eyes locked onto Scarlet—and something shifted.
He froze. So did she.
Scarlet stared back, jaw tight, every muscle coiled like a bowstring. The air between them crackled—sharp and silent, an argument without words, a history unspoken but undeniable.
Then I felt it—her emotions bleeding into the marekem.
A surge hit me like a wave: shock, anger, guilt. And beneath it, something softer she was trying—and failing—to bury. Her mental gates were up, but not holding. The guard wasn’t just a stranger. He meant something to her. Or he had.
“Scarlet,” I warned under my breath, but she didn’t move.
The guard took a single step forward, and her conflicted feelings snapped into something undeniable.
Pure. Hatred.