Chapter 12
Andrea pressed her back against the cold wall of the hallway, her breathing shallow as she scanned for any sign of movement. The soft hum of the security cameras overhead made her skin prickle, but she had timed this perfectly. The cameras would sweep left just long enough for her to slip past the corner unseen.
She adjusted her grip on the flashlight tucked under her arm, its weight both comforting and unnerving. Breaking into the academy archives wasn’t exactly on her bucket list, but the mysterious note about Emma Lawrence left her no choice. If anyone at Blackthorn knew the truth, they weren’t talking—and Andrea was done waiting for answers.
The heavy wooden door to the archives loomed ahead, its brass handle gleaming faintly in the dim light. She reached for it, her heart thudding, and turned the knob as slowly as possible. It clicked open, and Andrea slipped inside, careful to pull the door shut behind her.
Inside, the air was still, thick with the scent of paper and time. Rows of towering shelves stretched out like endless corridors, the dim yellow lights overhead flickering just enough to give her goosebumps.
“Okay, Lawrence,” she whispered to herself, adjusting the strap of her backpack. “Let’s see what you were all about.”
Andrea found the newspaper archives tucked in the farthest corner of the room, an ancient cabinet of drawers stacked haphazardly. Each one had labels etched on brass plates, and she traced her fingers over them, squinting in the faint light from her flashlight.
“2019… 2020…” she murmured, pulling open a drawer with a faint groan of protest. Dust clouded the air as she rifled through the brittle pages, scanning headlines.
Nothing about Emma.
Her shoulders slumped, frustration bubbling under her skin. How could someone just vanish? She was reaching for another stack when a low voice made her jump so hard she nearly knocked over the drawer.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
Andrea whirled around, her flashlight beam cutting through the shadows. Gabriel stood just a few feet away, his expression calm but unmistakably disapproving. His hands were shoved casually into the pockets of his blazer, but his sharp gray eyes missed nothing.
“Jesus, Gabriel!” Andrea hissed, clutching the drawer to steady herself. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he said evenly, stepping closer.
Andrea’s mind raced for an excuse, her pulse pounding. “I’m, uh, working on a project. For history.”
Gabriel tilted his head, his lips twitching in what might have been amusement. “Really. A project.”
“Yes, really,” Andrea shot back, crossing her arms defensively. “Mr. Howard gave me this whole thing on… missing persons cases. Blackthorn’s involvement, you know, like, historically.”
Gabriel’s eyebrow lifted slightly, and for a second, she thought he was going to call her bluff. But instead, he sighed and glanced toward the towering shelves.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly.
Andrea bit her lip, suddenly feeling the weight of his presence. “Are you going to report me?”
He didn’t answer right away. Then, with a faint shake of his head, he said, “No. But if you get caught, don’t expect me to bail you out.”
Andrea exhaled, relief flooding her chest.
Gabriel turned toward the shelves, scanning their heights. “What exactly are you looking for?”
She hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “Old newspapers,” she said finally. “From… around two years ago.”
“Two years ago,” Gabriel repeated, his tone thoughtful. Without another word, he reached for the ladder bolted to the side of the cabinet and climbed up with effortless grace.
“Wait—what are you doing?” Andrea asked, startled.
“Helping you before you hurt yourself,” Gabriel said dryly, pulling a stack of yellowed papers from the top shelf. He handed them down to her, and as Andrea reached for them, the ladder wobbled slightly.
Gabriel’s hands shot out, steadying her by the waist. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice softer now.
Andrea froze. His hands lingered for just a second too long, his touch firm but not unwelcome. Her breath caught as their eyes met—gray and stormy, inches from her own. The air between them felt charged, and for a moment, the silence wasn’t empty; it was full.
Gabriel was the first to pull away, his hands slipping from her waist as he stepped back down. Andrea quickly busied herself with the newspapers, trying to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks.
“Here,” she said quickly, setting the stack on the nearest table and flipping through them. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
Gabriel didn’t respond, but he stayed close, his presence grounding even as it unsettled her.
Finally, Andrea found something—a headline buried in the middle of a page.
“Detective Lawrence Dismissed Following Daughter’s Disappearance.”
She scanned the article, her heart sinking with every word. Emma’s father, a local detective, had been let go from the force just months after her disappearance. The article hinted at allegations of misconduct but offered no specifics.
“What does this even mean?” Andrea muttered, her brow furrowing.
Gabriel leaned over her shoulder, reading the article silently. His jaw tightened, the flicker of something dark crossing his face.
“Whatever happened,” he said quietly, “it wasn’t normal.”
Andrea turned to him, startled by the intensity in his voice. “Do you know something?”
Gabriel’s gaze locked on hers, and for a moment, she thought he might actually tell her. But then he shook his head, stepping back.
“You need to be careful,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Some things at Blackthorn… you’re better off not knowing.”
Andrea’s chest tightened. “You mean like what happened to Emma?”
Gabriel’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed his bag and turned toward the door.
“I’ll make sure the hall’s clear,” he said, his tone clipped. “But, Andrea—if you keep digging, don’t expect everyone to look the other way.”
Before she could respond, he was gone, leaving her alone with the newspapers. Andrea stared at the article, her hands shaking slightly. Whatever Gabriel wasn’t saying, it was clear that Emma’s disappearance wasn’t just a tragedy. It was a warning.
