RIVAL’S POV
My boots barely made a sound against the infirmary floor.
Every step was deliberate, calculated — because my ribs were already screaming from where Ruth had driven her knee in. The bruises would bloom later. Right now, pain was just another coat I had to wear without flinching.
The biometric film in my palm was warm. Fresh. I’d ripped it from her desk when I had her pinned, pressing her fingers against it before she kicked me halfway across the cot. It wasn’t much bigger than a playing card, but to me, it was worth more than gold.
The air outside the infirmary was colder. Sharper. The hum of the overhead lights was the only noise in the hall — no guards, no chatter, no footsteps. Too quiet.
Shadow always said: If the hallway’s empty, you’re not alone. You’re the one being
