He looked at me, leaned in, and demanded, “How did you open this door?”
“It was already open.”
“Impossible.” He yanked the chain from beneath his collar, chiming the collection of keys hanging there. “Only I can unlock it.”
He squinted his eyes, trying to decipher whether I was a liar. When he couldn’t find what he was looking for, his brow furrowed, and he resumed examining the latch.
“Leave.”
I stood there for one long, dangerous moment, staring at the door.
I needed that book.
“Now!” his voice cut through the air.
I forced my feet to obey, retreating one reluctant step after another. But the further I moved, the heavier my legs felt.
Whatever was in that room—it wasn’t just important. It was forbidden. Dangerous enough to lock away.
And deep in my bones, I knew the truth. My answers were sealed in that book.
All I needed to figure out was how to get the key.
Chapter 34
“Connection mends the soul, whereas division threatens its ruin.”
- The Old Book
The Facility - Week 3
It was Thursday, eight o’clock, in the rec room. I wanted to leave.
Every fiber of my being screamed at me to leave. My ears ached listening to a seventeen-year-old boy screech the lyrics to a popular folk song. His constant voice cracks had me gripping the edge of the table. The frequency was just too sharp, slicing through any attempt I made to block it out.
I was only here to get Corsica Marwood off my trail.
Ever since she cornered me, inquiring why I had yet to attend any organized social events, she had been showing up wherever I was—after transfusions, truth sessions, even meals. Always chirpy. Always asking when she could expect me at an activity night.
I was worried her lurking about would lead her to uncover things she shouldn’t know about. Like my sparring lessons with Rowan, or my plot to break into the library.
So now here I was, being slowly tortured, just to prove I was “making an effort.”
I stared at the chipped surface of the table and tried to pretend I wasn’t spiraling. The noise was too much, and my fingers were trembling. I wanted nothing more than to leave, but I felt her eyes on me even now.
A chair scraped beside me.
My breath hitched as I glanced up, expecting the worst—Corsica. My presence was my participation. If they made me sing, I wouldcroak.
My shoulders relaxed when I realized it wasn’t Corsica, but Talia.
She sat down wordlessly, balancing a tray with a cup of cider and a small slice of crumb cake she didn’t touch. She didn’t look at me, didn’t smile, didn’t make a sound.
Just… sat there.
I blinked, unsure what to make of it. Normally she had a light in her that drew others in. Now, it was shrouded.
“Is everything okay?”
