THE MISSING PAGE
1165 Words
“Don’t move.”
Adrian's voice was barely above a whisper.
Amara stood frozen between the shelves, her fingers still wrapped around the old book.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then came the sound of footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Someone was walking somewhere beyond the next row of shelves.
Adrian's eyes followed the sound.
“Who is that?” Amara whispered.
“I don't know.”
She stared at him.
“You're lying.”
“I wish I was.”
The footsteps stopped.
Silence swallowed the library.
Even the faint hum of the air conditioner seemed to disappear.
Adrian moved toward her.
“Give me the book.”
“No.”
“Amara—”
“You've told me to stay away from this book twice now. That makes me want to know what's inside it even more.”
His expression tightened.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't remember.”
Amara blinked.
The note flashed through her mind.
HE DOESN'T REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED.
“You mean the note?”
Adrian went completely still.
“What note?”
She hesitated.
He noticed.
“Amara.”
She slowly pulled the folded paper from her notebook.
Adrian read the words.
His face changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for her to know that he'd seen them before.
“You've seen this.”
“No.”
“Don't lie to me.”
“I've seen the handwriting.”
Amara's heart began pounding.
“Where?”
Adrian looked toward the shelves.
“Not here.”
“Then where?”
“Come with me.”
She didn't move.
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn't.”
That answer caught her off guard.
Adrian continued quietly.
“But right now, I'm the only person in this library who's telling you that you're in danger.”
A loud crash came from the other side of the shelves.
Both of them jumped.
Adrian grabbed the book from Amara's hands and pulled her toward the nearest exit.
“Wait!”
“Not here.”
They hurried through the library doors.
The moment they stepped into the corridor, Adrian stopped.
Amara pulled her arm free.
“You can't keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Giving me half an explanation and expecting me to follow you.”
“I don't expect you to follow me.”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
“Because whoever sent you those messages knows about the book.”
Amara's anger faded slightly.
“And you?”
Adrian looked at her.
“I know enough to be scared.”
That was the first honest thing he'd said.
Maybe.
---
They stopped beneath the old staircase where hardly anyone passed.
Adrian placed the book on the stone ledge.
“You said the note was inside?”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
Amara handed it over.
He studied it carefully.
“Where did you find this?”
“Inside the history book.”
“Was anything else there?”
“No.”
Adrian turned the paper over.
Nothing.
He handed it back.
“There's something missing.”
“What?”
“The page.”
“What page?”
“The one that was removed from the book.”
Amara frowned.
“How do you know?”
“Because I've seen this book before.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“And?”
“I found the same note.”
Amara stared at him.
“You're kidding.”
“I wish I were.”
“What did it say?”
Adrian looked away.
“I don't remember all of it.”
“But you remember the handwriting?”
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
He was silent.
“Adrian.”
“My mother's.”
Amara's expression softened.
“Your mother?”
“She disappeared when I was twelve.”
The words came quietly.
Almost casually.
But there was nothing casual about them.
Amara didn't know what to say.
Adrian looked down at the book.
“She was a professor here. History.”
Amara's eyes widened.
“And the Westbridge Circle?”
“My mother researched it.”
“Why?”
“She believed it wasn't just an academic society.”
“What did she think it was?”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“A group that had been controlling things at Westbridge for generations.”
Amara stared at him.
“That sounds impossible.”
“I thought so too.”
“Until?”
“Until my mother disappeared.”
Silence.
A bell rang somewhere across campus.
Students began filling the corridors.
Adrian picked up the book.
“Forget everything I told you.”
Amara almost laughed.
“You've got to be joking.”
“I'm serious.”
“You just told me your mother disappeared while investigating a secret society, and now you're telling me to forget it?”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not.”
For the first time, Adrian smiled.
It was brief.
Almost reluctant.
“You're stubborn.”
“So I've been told.”
“It's going to get you into trouble.”
“Maybe.”
She took the book from him.
“Then I suppose I'll see you in trouble too.”
His smile disappeared.
“Amara.”
“What?”
“Don't make me regret warning you.”
Before she could answer, someone called his name from down the corridor.
“Adrian!”
Noah approached them.
He looked from Adrian to Amara.
Then to the book.
His expression changed.
“You found it.”
Adrian's face hardened.
“Noah.”
“You actually found it?”
Amara looked between them.
“What exactly did I find?”
Neither answered.
Noah swallowed.
“Adrian, we need to talk.”
“Not here.”
“It's already too late.”
“What happened?”
Noah looked directly at Amara.
“Someone knows she's involved.”
Adrian went still.
“Who?”
Noah shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Then he reached into his pocket and handed Adrian his phone.
“Look.”
Adrian read the message on the screen.
His expression slowly darkened.
Amara stepped closer.
“What does it say?”
Adrian didn't answer.
She took the phone from him.
There was one message.
No name.
No number.
Just a photograph.
Amara stared at it.
It was an old photograph of Westbridge University.
Three students stood in front of the main building.
One was Adrian's mother.
Another was a man Amara didn't recognize.
And the third—
Amara's breath caught.
She knew that face.
She had seen it before.
In an old photograph hanging in her grandmother's house.
Her own grandfather.
Underneath the photograph was a single sentence:
THEIR CHILDREN WILL FINISH WHAT THEY STARTED.
Amara slowly looked at Adrian.
He was already looking at her.
Neither of them spoke.
Because suddenly, the mystery wasn't only about Adrian anymore.
It was about her family too.
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