121
The hallway was clustered with kids. So many of them. Too many of them. My breath was already uneven, but now, as I pushed through the sea of bodies, panic wrapped itself around my ribs like a vice. I tried not to shove them away, but my nerves were too frayed, my desperation too sharp. My hands made contact with shoulders, backpacks, arms. "Sorry," I muttered, but I didn’t slow down. Couldn’t slow down. My legs moved on instinct, my feet barely touching the ground as I raced down the hall, my vision swimming.
Where to? Where the fuck was I supposed to go?
Tina. I needed to find Tina. If those people got in before I reached her—
My stomach clenched violently, bile rising in my throat. My body wasn’t handling the stress well. Everything felt too loud, too hot, too suffocating. The school was supposed to be a safe place. But now, it was a goddamn maze, and I had no idea which turn would lead me to my son or straight into the hands of the enemy.
I rounded a corner, then another, and before I could stop myself, I started spinning in place. My body shook uncontrollably, my breath coming in rapid, ragged bursts. My hand flew to my throat, pressing hard against my skin as if that would steady me, as if that would stop the world from tilting beneath my feet. My gaze darted across the hall, scanning every face, every child, every damn person.
Parents. There were parents here. A few of them standing near the classroom doors, waiting for their kids. A mother with blonde curls chatting with a teacher. A father adjusting his son’s backpack straps. Another woman, arms crossed, checking her phone impatiently. None of them looked dangerous. None of them looked like they knew what was happening, what was coming.
But I knew. And I didn’t have time.
I moved faster, weaving through the clusters of students. My hands reached out, grabbing the shoulders of children, twisting them slightly so I could peer into their faces. No. Not Adam. Not Adam. Not—
Fuck.
Where was he?
The school doors behind me creaked open. Voices carried. Sharp, firm. Too familiar. Too fucking close. I turned and ran again.
I was spiraling. My thoughts were chaos, my breathing uneven, my vision blurring at the edges as my pulse battered against my ribs like a caged animal. I pushed forward, forcing myself through the sea of bodies, but then— out of the corner of my eye—I saw them.
Alaric’s men.
They weren’t just standing around—they were moving, threading through the crowd with calculated ease, their eyes sweeping over the clusters of parents and students. My stomach turned ice-cold. They blended too well, dressed like any other businessman, any other father picking up their child, but I knew better. The way they scanned, the way their heads subtly turned as they clocked each movement in the hallway—they were tracking. Searching. For Adam. For me.
My breath hitched, but I forced myself to calm down. Breathe. Fucking breathe, Eleanor. If I let the panic show on my face, if I started acting erratic, I’d give myself away. I couldn’t afford that.
I rolled my shoulders, forced my legs to slow—just slightly, just enough to look natural—and tugged my cap lower over my forehead. My fingers twitched to adjust my sunglasses, but I knew better. Any sudden movement could draw the wrong kind of attention. My heart slammed against my chest, and sweat slicked my palms as I prayed Clarissa wasn’t in the crowd. If she was, I was fucked. She’d recognize me in an instant.
But she wasn’t here.
That, at least, was a small mercy.
I took the opportunity. I moved.
I rounded another corner swiftly, my pulse roaring in my ears, the walls narrowing around me as I picked up speed. I wasn’t fast enough.
A body loomed in my path.
Too sudden, too unexpected—I barely had time to react before I nearly slammed right into him. One of Alaric’s men. His cologne hit my nose first—strong, expensive, unmistakably tied to the kind of man who walked with authority, who had too much confidence in his ability to dominate a room. His hands raised slightly in reflex, an automatic response to the near collision.
“Sorry, miss,” he said, stepping back smoothly, making way for me.
My breath stuck in my throat. I hummed a noncommittal response, keeping my head down, my cap tight. My entire body felt wired, tense, so fucking tight I thought I’d snap in two. I could feel his gaze linger for a second longer than I liked, but I didn’t wait to see if suspicion crept into his features. I moved. Fast.
I yanked my jacket tighter around me, tugged at my cap once more, and sprinted faster down the hallway, my legs carrying me so quickly it barely felt like I was touching the ground. My lungs burned, my throat felt raw, but I couldn’t stop. Every step, every breath, every heartbeat felt like it was ticking down to something catastrophic. My stomach twisted in knots, nausea curling in the pit of my gut as adrenaline flooded every nerve ending in my body.
I wasn’t going to make it.
I had barely made it halfway down the hallway when I heard it.
“Hey!”
The voice cut through the noise, sharp, direct, unmistakable. It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t random.
It was meant for me.
My heart catapulted into my throat so violently I nearly choked on the sheer force of my panic. Every muscle in my body coiled, a tight, suffocating grip around my chest. The walls felt smaller, the air thinner. The school’s fluorescent lights blurred into harsh streaks above me as my pulse hammered against my skull.
Move.
I moved.
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