This must be a restricted floor. Lucas strides out, keys jingling, and stops before a door near the end of the corridor. Jaxson’s hand is on my arm, not tight, but firm enough to prevent any thoughts of bolting.
Lucas unlocks the door and pushes it open, flicking on a light switch. The room is surprisingly spacious for a dorm. A single bed, neatly made, sits against one wall. There’s a desk, a chair, a small ensuite bathroom. It’s impersonal, sterile, but undeniably a safe, warm place.
“This is a guest suite,” Lucas says, his voice flat as he tosses the keys onto the desk. “Faculty, visiting speakers. Rarely used.”
“It’ll do,” Jaxson says, finally releasing my arm. He steps further into the room, his eyes scanning it briefly then turns back to Lucas who is still lingering in the doorway
