Page 156 of Specter Bred

“Maeve?” I whispered through the door. “You in there?”

When no one answered, I knocked again, a little louder this time.

“Firecracker,” I whispered. “Seriously. Are you in there?” A bed creaked on the other side of the door, followed by the groan of floorboards, and I took a quick step back just before it swung open.

Graves filled the doorway, his expression flat with irritation and his hair mussed from sleep, as if I’d dragged him straight out of it. He stared at me for a long second without saying anything, and the look alone was enough to make me regret ever knocking on his door.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing outside my door in the middle of the night, Farm Boy?” Graves asked through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, sir. I’m looking for Maeve.”

His expression hardened. “What makes you think she’d be in my room?”

“Well, she’s not in mine, and she told me she was going to bed hours ago...”

“The mess hall—”

“No, sir. I just came from there.”

Graves exhaled through his nose, irritation giving way to concern. Without another word, he crossed the hall to the instructors’ restroom and shoved the door open. The showers were empty. So were the stalls. He stood there for a second, scanning the room, then looked back at me.

His eyes narrowed.

“What exactly did she say?” he asked.

“A few hours ago, she told me she was exhausted and heading to bed. That was it. Redwood was glaring at her from across the mess hall like usual—”

“Was he still there when you left?” Graves cut in.

I frowned, thinking back. “No.” My stomach tightened as the memory clicked into place.

“He left before I did.” I looked at Graves. “Right after Maeve, actually.”

Without another word, Graves reached back into his room, grabbed a T-shirt, and yanked it over his head. He snatched his service pistol from the dresser next, checking it by instinct before tucking it securely into the waistband of his pants. Then he was moving, fast and purposeful, leaving the instructors’ quarters and cutting across the compound toward the recruits’ squad bay. I hurried after him, the knot in my stomach tightening with every step.

We entered the squad bay quietly, scanning the rows of beds. Nearly every bunk held a sleeping recruit, the room filled with the steady rhythm of breathing and the occasional rustle of sheets. Nearly every bunk.

Three were empty.

Graves moved between them, checking the names stitched into the uniforms folded inside the footlockers at the end of each bed. His fist tightened with each one.

Miles Redwood. Alec Teller. Nathan Long.

One look at Graves’s expression told me he was every bit as worried about Maeve as I was now. He clenched his jaw tightly and swept his eyes over the three empty bunks one last time before turning to me.

“We need to find her. We’ll split up and search the grounds. I doubt they went very far.”

“Okay. I’ll double-check the mess hall, then head to the outdoor showers.”

“I’ll take the training yard and the outdoor range.” Graves was already moving before he finished speaking. He stalked out of the barracks, and I headed in the opposite direction, forcing myself into a jog as the uneasy feeling in my gut grew heavier.

The mess hall was exactly as I’d left it, only quieter now. A few empty beer bottles and abandoned glasses still sat on the tables, but there wasn’t a person in sight. I checked behind the serving counter and pushed through the kitchen doors anyway, calling Maeve’s name softly even though I knew she wasn’t there. Nothing.

From there, I headed toward the outdoor showers, checking the narrow paths between buildings and peering into every dark corner I passed. The showers were empty too, water dripping steadily from one faucet and hitting the concrete with an irritating little plink that seemed impossibly loud in the silence.

“Maeve?” I called again, louder this time.

Still nothing.