Page 83 of Deadly Force

My heart kicks harder, fast and loud against my ribs, the sound filling my ears.

Scanning the room, I press a hand to my forehead, perplexed as to why someone would want me locked in here. Unless they want me to sweat to death.

With no A/C, the air is starting to grow stifling, and moisture has started to slide down my spine.

I try the door again. Bang on it and press my ear to the glass. A shadow passes by, just a flicker.

Someone is out there.

I back away from the door, pulse thundering in my ears. Whoever it is, they’re not trying to get in. They don’t rattle the handle. Don’t speak.

They just stand there.

Watching me.

Caleb

I make my way across the paved plaza in front ofthe library, keeping to the edges as students drift past in relaxed pairs, coffee cups in hand, backpacks slung low, half-distracted by their phones.

Across the lawn, I catch sight of Reese. He’s approaching from the far side, cap low, phone to his ear. His gait is loose, casual, but his head moves with purpose—eyes scanning, tracking.

He’s blending in. But he’s not relaxed.

Neither am I.

Brooke is nowhere to be seen.

Jaw tight, stomach tighter, I glance down at my phone.

Change of plan. Room 3C, Humanities.

I frown.

Room 3C, Humanities?

That wasn’t the plan. That wasn’t even on the radar.

Typical Brooke move. One that’s getting too familiar. I step onto the sidewalk and hit call.

“Howdy, partner,” Delilah says.

“Dee, get me a campus map of A of U. I’m at the library. I need to find Room 3C in the Humanities building.”

There’s a pause, two beats max, then the click of keys in the background.

“Okaaay, why are you running around a campus?”

“Now, Dee.”

“Wow. Mr. Snappy. Sorry. It’s across the quad. Take the path left of the library entrance, past the sculpture lawn. Third building on your right, red brick, name etched above the doors. Room 3C is top floor, southeast end.”

I hang up, tap my earpiece. “Reese, redirect. Brooke’s not at the library, she’s heading for a classroom in the Humanities building. East quad. Get eyes on the perimeter. I’m going in.”

My boots hit pavement hard, dodging slow-walking students and a guy on a skateboard who’s not paying attention. I cut through the edge of the quad, past a row of bike racks, eyes flicking across the rooftops, the tree lines, the blind corners. I don’t know this campus. I hate that I don’t know this campus.

The longer I walk, the worse the feeling in my gut gets.

She was supposed to stay visible. We agreed on that. Outside the library. Public.