YOUR FUTURE EX

Chapter3

They say the devil you know is better than the angels you don’t.

The people standing in that glasshouse were no angels.

Neither was Adrian.

But if I had to choose between the boy who had lied to me and the strangers who already knew my real name, I’d choose the liar.

At least I knew he was afraid.

I tightened my grip on the envelope, took one last look at the figures pouring into the glasshouse, and jumped into the tunnel after Adrian.

The landing knocked the air out of my lungs.

Stone scraped my palms as I caught myself and before I could push up, the hatch slammed shut with a loud noise.

Silence swallowed the tunnel.

Then a click.

A flashlight flickered on.

Adrian stood several feet away, one hand shielding the beam from my eyes.

“You actually came.” He said

I brushed dirt from my palms and stood. “Sound less surprised.”

“I was giving you too much credit.” He retorted

“I almost stayed.” I said

“I know.” He said.

Something about the certainty in his voice irritated me.

“You don’t know anything about me.” I replied

“No?” He asked

He turned and started walking before I could answer.

For a moment, I considered staying exactly where I was out of spite but another muffled bang echoed through the hatch above.

Decision made.

I caught up with him.

The tunnel curved sharply, forcing us to duck beneath roots that looked like it had broken through the ceiling years ago.

“You built that lock?” I asked.

“I helped.” Adrian responded

“That’s different.” I said

“It is.”

“So why say you built it?”

A faint smile crossed his face.

“Because ‘I helped build it with someone who hated shortcuts’ takes too long.”

Despite myself, I almost smiled.

The passage widened slightly.

“You know,” I said, “for someone who’s supposed to be protecting me, you’re remarkably bad at answering questions.”

“I’ve answered more tonight than I planned to.” He said.

“That’s not saying much.” I replied

He didn’t argue and that bothered me more than if he had.

My shoe struck something on the ground and when I looked down it was a rusted lantern.

Its glass had shattered years ago, but someone had brushed the dust away recently.

I crouched beside it. “This wasn’t abandoned.”

Adrian stopped walking.

“What?”

I ran my finger across the metal but half of it was coated in dust but the handle wasn’t. “Someone picked this up.”

He looked at the lantern, then back at me.

“I didn’t notice that.”

For the first time since we’d met…

I had a strange satisfaction settled in my chest.

“Maybe we’re not alone down here.”

His expression tightened. “Keep moving.”

“No.” I stayed where I was.

“If someone came through here recently, I want to know who.”

He glanced back the way we’d come. “They’re not behind us.”

“How do you know?” I asked

“I don’t.” It was the first time he’d admitted uncertainty.

I filed that away.

We continued in silence not because we’d run out of things to say but because we were both listening.

The tunnel eventually opened into a narrow stone corridor lined with heavy wooden doors, each reinforced with iron bands blackened by age.

None had handles.

Only keyholes.

I stopped at the first one.

A small brass plaque had been bolted to the centre.

The engraving had almost disappeared beneath years of scratches.

Almost.

I wiped it clean with my sleeve.

Three words emerged.

STUDENT OBSERVATION RECORDS.

A chill crept down my spine.

I looked over my shoulder.

“Adrian…”

He was staring at the plaque too and his face had gone completely still.

Quietly, he said, “This wasn’t here before.”

I stared at the plaque, waiting for Adrian to explain but he didn’t instead his eyes stayed fixed on the words as if they belonged to a memory instead of a door.

“You’ve been here before,” I said quietly.

“I thought I had.” The answer caught me off guard.

His voice was distant. “These doors didn’t.”

“People don’t usually forget an entire hallway.” I said .

“I didn’t forget it.” He looked at me.

“It changed.”

I wanted to tell him that made no sense instead I looked closer.

The brass had been scratched to look worn, but tiny curls of fresh metal still clung to the edges.

Someone had carved it recently.

“Adrian.” I said and he followed my gaze, “This is new.”

“I know.” He responded

“No.” I shook my head, “I mean… whoever did this wanted it to look old.”

He stepped beside me and for a second, neither of us spoke then he laughed and not because anything was funny but because he’d missed it. “You saw that before I did.”

“I notice things.” I said

“I can see that.” He responded but it sounded more like a warning.

We moved farther down the corridor.

Every door carried another plaque.

DISCIPLINARY RECORDS.

PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATIONS.

FACULTY OBSERVATIONS.

The names alone made my skin crawl.

“This isn’t a school.” I said in disbelief.

“No.” He replied not surprised

“It isn’t.”

I reached for one of the iron handles before realizing there weren’t any.

“They’re locked.” I said

“They’re meant to be.” He replied

“So how do we get in?” I asked

Adrian reached into his pocket. “I have one key.”

“One?” I asked

“It only opens one room.” He said

“And if it’s the wrong room?” I asked again

“Then we wasted a very dangerous trip.” He said casually

He stopped outside the final door.

This one looked untouched.

“Wait.”

Adrian paused.

I stepped closer.

“Try the door opposite.”

“Why?”

“Because this lock has never been used.”

He stared at it then at me.

Slowly, he crossed the corridor.

The opposite door had no plaque at all just bare wood.

Its lock was scratched so deeply the metal beneath showed through.

Adrian inserted the key.

A heavy click echoed through the corridor.

Neither of us moved.

“You were right,” he murmured.

“I know.”

The words came out before I could stop them.

He looked at me for a long second then pushed the door open.

A rush of stale air drifted into the corridor.

The room beyond wasn’t an archive.

Just a single wooden desk beneath a hanging lamp.

“There has to be something.”

Adrian searched the drawers.

I ignored them.

Instead, I looked at the floor.

The dust ended halfway across the room and a clean trail led to the cabinet.

Someone had moved it recently.

“Adrian.”

He looked up.

I pointed and together, we shoved the cabinet aside.

Hidden behind it was a steel door no bigger than a suitcase.

Only a fingerprint scanner.

Above it, etched into the metal, were three words.

ACCESS DENIED: ZARA VALE

Neither of us spoke because I hadn’t even touched anything.