The library suddenly felt too quiet.
Adrian's words echoed in my mind long after he said them:
"They're saying the Academy never meant for you to come back."
"And that if you stay… you won't leave again either."
I stared at him, my throat tight.
"Adrian," I whispered, "you can't just say something like that and walk away."
"I didn't walk away," he said gently. "I'm right here."
"Then tell me what you mean."
Adrian looked down at his hands. His fingers were long, elegant, the hands of a noble who grew up with etiquette drilled into him. He wasn't trembling, but his composure looked strained.
"A lot happened last term," he said softly. "Things no one openly talks about. Especially not about… you."
Not me.
Elliot.
"What kind of things?" I pressed.
Adrian swallowed. "Rumors. Secrets. Dismissals. Threats. A few students were expelled for 'misconduct.' Others left voluntarily. Some… didn't return at all."
My blood went cold.
"Elliot," he continued, "was one of them."
I tried to breathe, but my chest felt too tight.
"Why didn't anyone say anything?" I asked.
"No one wants to challenge the Academy," Adrian said quietly. "Especially when the people involved outrank all of us."
"People involved?" My voice shook. "Who was he involved with?"
Adrian hesitated.
His eyes flickered to the right—to the tall windows where sunlight cut through the shelves in sharp beams.
Then he said, almost in a whisper:
"Cassian Valehart."
My stomach dropped.
Cassian.
The Alpha who watched me too closely.
The Alpha who sensed my suppressor slip.
Adrian leaned forward. "Whatever happened last term started with Cassian. And it ended with your brother vanishing the day after their last training session."
I stared at him, heart pounding so loudly I could barely hear anything else.
"Did Cassian hurt him?" I whispered.
Adrian shook his head—too fast. "No one knows. People think Cassian pushed him too hard. Others say Elliot confronted him about something."
"What something?"
Adrian hesitated again.
And that hesitation told me he knew more.
"Adrian," I said softly, "please. Tell me."
Before he could answer—
A voice drifted over from behind the bookshelves.
Calm.
Smooth.
Heard exactly when he wanted to be heard.
"You shouldn't assume things you can't prove."
Adrian froze.
I turned toward the voice.
Rowan Blackwell stepped out from behind the shelf, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. His glasses glinted under the sunlight.
He had been listening.
Of course he had.
Rowan leaned one shoulder against the nearest bookshelf. "Interesting conversation," he said casually. "I didn't realize we were discussing missing persons cases in the middle of the library."
"Rowan," Adrian said tensely, "this isn't your business."
Rowan smiled—a small, sharp smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Everything on this campus is my business."
My jaw clenched. "How much did you hear?"
"Enough," Rowan said. Then, looking directly at me, he added, "You're digging in all the wrong places, Elliot."
My pulse spiked.
Rowan's smile softened—but only slightly. "And if you're not careful, the wrong people will notice."
"I can handle myself," I said.
"Can you?" Rowan's eyebrow lifted. "Because from where I'm standing, you're barely keeping it together."
It felt like being dissected under a microscope.
"Leave him alone," Adrian said firmly—a tone I'd never heard from him.
Rowan blinked at him. "Adrian. How brave of you today."
Adrian swallowed. "I'm serious."
Rowan studied him for a moment—quiet, almost curious.
Then he turned to me again.
"You want to know the truth about last term?" Rowan asked. "Then stop following rumors."
"What should I follow?" I whispered.
"Footsteps," Rowan said.
"Elliot's last known footsteps."
A shiver ran down my spine.
"And where do I find those?" I asked.
Rowan tapped the edge of his glasses, eyes glinting. "Room B-12. The lower training wing."
Adrian went pale.
"That room's restricted," he said quickly. "You can't just go down there. Only upper-class Alpha elites are allowed in."
Rowan shrugged. "Then go with one."
I blinked. "Who?"
Rowan smirked.
"You have options. Your new shadow prince, for one."
Horace.
"And the reckless one following you around like a loyal stray."
Chandler.
"And if you're feeling particularly suicidal…" Rowan's eyes glittered.
"You could ask Cassian himself."
My stomach twisted.
Rowan straightened and began walking toward the exit.
"Be smart, Elliot," he said without turning back. "If you want answers, follow the path he left. Before someone erases it."
Then he disappeared around the corner—silent as always.
I exhaled shakily.
Adrian put a hand on the table, grounding himself. "Don't trust Rowan too easily," he said. "He's dangerous."
"I got that impression," I muttered.
"No—worse than you think." Adrian's voice lowered. "He's the type who helps you only if it helps him more."
"That's not comforting."
"It's not supposed to be."
My fingers brushed the torn note in my pocket.
If something happens, don't trust—
Who was Elliot warning me about?
Rowan?
Cassian?
Horace?
Someone else entirely?
I rose from my seat.
Adrian stood too. "Where are you going?"
"To follow the footsteps," I said quietly.
Adrian caught my arm gently. "At least tell someone. Don't go alone."
I hesitated.
But the truth was brutal:
No one here could be fully trusted.
Not yet.
"I'll be careful," I said.
"You said that earlier," Adrian murmured. "And today alone you've already been cornered by the Crown Prince, threatened by Valehart, and approached by the Academy's biggest information broker."
I sighed. "…Point taken."
Adrian looked around, then leaned close.
"I'll distract anyone who tries to follow you," he whispered.
I blinked. "Why?"
He held my gaze for a long moment.
"Because Elliot helped me once," he said softly. "And I owe him."
My heart lurched.
Before I could speak, Adrian gently nudged me toward the exit.
"Go," he whispered. "Before someone else shows up."
The halls leading to the lower training wing grew colder the farther I walked.
Less sunlight.
Fewer students.
More silence.
Signs on the walls read:
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
UPPER-CLASS TRAINING RESTRICTED
ELITE LEVEL ACCESS REQUIRED
My pulse hammered.
I shouldn't be here.
But I needed to know.
Elliot had been here.
Maybe his last footprints, his last words, his last moments were somewhere behind one of these doors.
I reached the stairwell leading down to the lower wing.
Every instinct screamed to turn back.
Instead, I grabbed the rail and descended into the dim hallway below.
Room B-12.
The door at the very end.
Just as Rowan said.
I approached slowly, breath shallow, hand trembling as I reached for the handle.
Then—
A voice behind me cut through the silence.
"Elliot?"
I spun around—
—and nearly stumbled.
Because standing in the shadows, watching me with a mixture of confusion, suspicion, and something sharper—
Was Chandler.
Hands in his pockets.
Eyes locked onto mine.
Expression unreadable.
"What," he asked quietly, "are you doing down here?"
Chandler stepped fully into view, the dim lights sharpening the angles of his face. His grey eyes flickered to the sign above the hallway door, then back to me.
"Restricted area?" he said quietly. "Really?"
My pulse jumped.
"I'm just—exploring," I lied.
Chandler didn't even blink. "Try again."
I swallowed. "I'm looking for something."
"Looking for what?" he pressed.
He moved closer—not enough to crowd me, but enough that the silence felt thick between us.
"Chandler," I whispered, "you can't be here."
He raised a brow. "Interesting. Because I was about to say the exact same thing to you."
He glanced over my shoulder at the metal plate on the far door.
B-12
His jaw tightened. "Why this room?"
I hesitated.
I couldn't tell him the truth.
But I didn't want to lie, either.
Before I could answer, Chandler took another step, lowering his voice.
"Elleanore," he said softly—too softly—"does this have to do with Elliot?"
My breath hitched.
"Chandler, keep your voice down—"
"Then I'm right," he said. "You found something."
He looked at me—really looked—and something in his expression shifted. Worry. Frustration. Protectiveness he didn't know how to shut off.
"What did you find?" he asked.
"I can't—"
"Elleanore." His tone softened. "Tell me."
I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the torn note in my pocket like a burning weight.
If something happens, don't trust—
But trust who?
Trust no one?
Or… trust the person who had already risked himself for me, twice now?
I opened my eyes.
"I think Elliot left something in this room," I whispered. "A clue. Or a warning. Or… I don't know. Something important."
Chandler's brows furrowed. "How do you know?"
"A source told me."
He frowned. "What source?"
I didn't answer.
His jaw clenched. "Was it Rowan?"
I didn't answer again.
Chandler swore under his breath. "That guy is bad news. If he gave you a tip, it's for a reason—and not a good one."
I looked down at my hands. "I can't just ignore it."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Then you're not going in alone."
"I have to. It's too dangerous for both of us."
"Exactly," he shot back. "So you're not going in alone."
His voice held no give, no room for argument.
Chandler stepped beside me—and gently curled his hand around my wrist.
Not grabbing.
Not pulling.
Steadying.
"Whatever Elliot got involved in," he said softly, "you're already deeper than you think. Let me help."
My chest tightened.
But before I could respond—
A faint click echoed at the end of the hallway.
Both of us froze.
The door of B-12 twitched.
Once.
Twice.
Then swung open.
And someone stepped out.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Copper hair glinting under fluorescent lights.
Cassian Valehart.
I felt my blood run cold.
Chandler's grip on my wrist tightened instinctively.
Cassian's bronze eyes flicked from me… to Chandler… to our hands… and back to my face.
"Well," he said with a small, amused smile. "Isn't this interesting."
He leaned against the doorframe casually. "You two shouldn't be here."
"We could say the same," Chandler shot back.
Cassian tilted his head. "I have access."
Chandler smirked. "Good for you."
Cassian's eyes shifted back to me.
Sharper now.
Colder.
"What are you looking for, Fonze?" he asked.
My heart skipped.
He said it too naturally—too comfortably.
Like he had said it many times before.
Chandler stepped in front of me, blocking Cassian's direct gaze.
"That's none of your business," he said.
Cassian chuckled. "You think you can protect him?"
"Watch me."
The air thickened—two Alphas facing off, dominance pressing into the hallway like invisible weight. The suppressor strained again, cracks spreading under the tension.
Not again.
Not again, please.
Cassian pushed off the doorframe and took one slow step closer. "You don't know what you're involving yourself in."
Chandler's glare sharpened. "Neither do you."
Cassian's smile widened—not kind, not amused—dangerous.
"Oh," he murmured. "I think I know exactly what's going on."
I swallowed hard. "Cassian—"
He cut me off with a quiet, chilling sentence.
"Your brother stood exactly where you're standing."
My heart stopped.
For a moment, the world shrank to just Cassian's voice.
"He came down here the night before he disappeared," Cassian continued, eyes locked on mine. "Looking for something he shouldn't have."
Chandler stiffened. "What do you mean?"
Cassian ignored him.
"He pointed at this exact door," Cassian said quietly, "and told me he had to check something inside."
"And you let him?" I whispered, throat tight.
Cassian's jaw tightened. "I warned him not to go in."
"And he didn't listen?" I asked.
Cassian's silence was the answer.
I felt dizzy.
Chest tight.
Vision blurry.
"What did he find?" I asked in a trembling whisper.
Cassian looked at me for a long moment—too long.
Then he said:
"I don't know."
He wasn't lying.
But he wasn't telling the whole truth either.
Before I could speak again—
A sharp voice cut through the hallway.
"What are you all doing here?"
I jumped.
We all turned.
And my stomach dropped.
Horace Isaac Frinton stood at the far end of the corridor, expression cold and unreadable, the authority in his posture unmistakable.
He walked toward us slowly, each step controlled.
Chandler dropped my wrist.
Cassian straightened subtly.
Horace stopped only a few feet away, silver-blue eyes sweeping over all three of us.
Then his gaze landed on me.
"Elliot," he said quietly, "you're not allowed in this wing."
My throat closed.
"I—"
"Explain," Horace said.
Not harsh.
Not loud.
But demanding truth.
Cassian folded his arms. "We're just having a conversation, Your Highness."
Horace didn't even look at him.
His eyes were on me.
Only me.
Something in them wasn't anger.
It was something sharper.
Worry.
Fear.
Suspicion.
A mix I couldn't decode.
"Answer me," Horace said softly. "Why are you here?"
My lips parted.
I had nothing.
No lie.
No excuse.
No escape.
I felt the truth pounding behind my ribs, begging to break free:
"I'm looking for my brother."
But if I said that—
If I admitted it—
If Horace learned even a piece of the truth—
Everything would fall apart.
Before I could speak—
A small metallic sound echoed from the open door of B-12.
All of us turned.
Something lay on the ground inside, half in shadow.
Something small.
Silver.
Familiar.
Cassian's expression flicked—surprise, pain, something hidden.
Chandler whispered, "Is that—"
I stepped forward, stomach twisting violently.
Horace reached instinctively to stop me—but I slipped past him.
I knelt at the doorway.
My fingers closed around the object.
Cold.
Smooth.
Worn at the edges.
I lifted it slowly.
It was—
A silver chain.
And dangling from it—
A small metal tag.
Elliot's.
My brother's.
My vision blurred.
My breath broke.
And in a voice so soft I barely heard myself, I whispered:
"He was here."
Exactly here.
This room.
This door.
This hallway.
The last place he was seen alive.
Behind me, three Alphas fell silent.
The Academy was no longer just hiding something—
It was hiding him.