Ayla froze. The air felt heavier now, thick with dust and tension.
"Elian?" she called again, voice trembling.
No answer. Only the faint creak of wood above her and the dripping of a pipe somewhere
in the dark.
She turned, trying to see through the faint light from the window. A shadow moved near
the old bookshelves. Her pulse spiked.
"Elian, if this is one of your games—"
"It's not." His voice came from behind her.
She spun around. He stood in the doorway, calm, unreadable.
Her voice came out sharp. "You locked me in here!"
He raised his brows. "No, I didn't."
"Then who did?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked past her toward the back of the room.
"We're not alone."
Ayla's skin prickled. Someone was hiding in the dark. She could feel it.
Elian moved closer, quiet and careful. "Stay behind me."
She hesitated. "Since when do you care?"
"I don't," he said. "But if you die, I lose my only lead."A sound echoed — a soft thud, like something dropping onto the floor.
Elian grabbed a metal rod from the shelf. "Show yourself!"
Silence. Then footsteps — fast. The shadow darted toward the far exit, the side door
near the archives. Elian rushed after it, pulling the handle, but the door was jammed
shut.
"Gone," he muttered.
Ayla stood still, breathing hard. "You saw them, right? I wasn't imagining it."
He nodded. "Someone wanted to scare you. Or warn you."
Her throat tightened. "What's in those records, Elian? Why would anyone hide them?"
He turned toward her, the dim light cutting across his face. "Because the fire ten years
ago wasn't an accident."
She frowned. "You think it's connected to us?"
"I know it is."
The words sent a chill through her.
He leaned closer, voice low. "I read your expulsion report. It wasn't written by a teacher.
It was written by a student—one who disappeared right after the fire."
Her heart skipped. "Who?"
Before he could answer, the basement lights flickered on.
They both froze.
Standing at the top of the stairs was Headmaster Vale, holding a flashlight. His tone was
calm but cold.
"Midnight meetings, in a locked basement," he said. "Care to explain what you're both
doing here?"Elian opened his mouth, but Ayla spoke first. "We heard something. Someone was down
here."
The headmaster's eyes narrowed. "There's no one here but the two of you."
He stepped closer, his gaze sharp. "You two have a habit of being in the wrong place at
the wrong time. I'd advise you to stop before you both find yourselves expelled again."
He turned off the flashlight and left.
The room fell silent.
Ayla met Elian's eyes. "We're in trouble, aren't we?"
He gave a small, humorless laugh. "Trouble's an understatement."
"Then why are you smiling?"
He stepped closer, close enough for her to feel his breath. "Because this is starting to
get interesting."
Her chest tightened. The distance between them shrank, tension thick in the air.
"Elian," she whispered, "this isn't a game."
"No," he said, his eyes dark. "It's not."
But for a moment, neither of them moved. The chase, the danger—it all blurred into
something hot and reckless.
Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.
His expression changed.
"What is it?" she asked.
He showed her the message. A single photo.
It was of her dorm room—taken from the window, less than five minutes ago.