Chapter Thirty Three: The Greenhouse
643 Words
Mila’s POV
The old greenhouse sat behind the gym, half-swallowed by vines and time.
Most students didn’t even know it existed — and those who did swore it was haunted.
She could see why.
The glass panes were cracked, streaked with moss.
Sunlight bled through in fractured beams, illuminating rows of dead plants and overturned pots.
It smelled of earth and something older — like secrets buried too long.
“Are you sure about this?” Xavier’s voice cut through the silence.
“No,” she admitted, pushing the creaky door open, “but since when has that stopped us?”
They stepped inside.
The air was thick, heavy. Dust floated like smoke.
It felt wrong — too quiet, too still.
She glanced at him. He was scanning the corners, eyes sharp, movements slow and deliberate.
For someone who acted reckless, Xavier Reed knew how to move like he’d done this before.
*****
Xavier’s POV
He’d been in fights, schemes, all kinds of trouble. But this… this was different.
There was something crawling beneath the surface of this school — something you couldn’t punch or threaten.
And last night’s warning still rang in his head. They know.
He found a small metal table near the back, half-hidden under a torn tarp.
“Over here,” he said.
Mila joined him, brushing off the dust. Beneath it was a small box — locked, but old.
No label. Just a faded engraving on the lid:
Property of M.H.S – Archive Unit 07
“Archive?” Mila whispered. “You think it’s school files?”
“Only one way to find out.”
He reached for the latch — but froze when something crunched under his shoe.
A photo.
It was black-and-white, curled at the edges.
Four people stood in front of the very same greenhouse — all wearing Manchester uniforms.
And in the middle… was the assistant.
Smiling.
Younger.
Mila leaned in. “That’s her. But who are the others?”
Xavier’s eyes narrowed. “Look closer.”
One of them — tall, stern, wearing a teacher’s badge — was labeled Head Supervisor: Lennox.
*****
Mila’s POV
Her stomach turned cold.
If Lennox was in that picture, then whatever this was — it went way deeper than she’d thought.
Suddenly, a low hum filled the air.
She looked up.
The old fluorescent lights flickered to life — one by one.
Xavier tensed. “Did you touch anything?”
“No.”
The hum grew louder.
Then — a faint click. The box on the table… unlocked itself.
She stepped back as the lid creaked open, revealing a stack of old data disks, some cracked, others labeled in fading ink.
One word appeared again and again on the covers:
MNEMOSYNE.
Xavier whispered it under his breath. “What the hell is that?”
Before Mila could answer, a sound outside — footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.
They froze.
He grabbed her wrist, pulling her behind a row of broken planters.
The door creaked open.
A silhouette stepped in — tall, in a dark coat, face hidden by the glare of the lights.
“Who’s there?” the man’s voice echoed.
Calm. Controlled.
And chillingly familiar.
Lennox.
Mila’s breath caught. Xavier squeezed her hand — silent signal: Don’t move.
The man walked deeper into the greenhouse, scanning the room.
Then his gaze stopped — right where the box sat open on the table.
“Clever,” he murmured. “But not clever enough.”
He picked up one of the disks, slipped it into his coat, and left.
Only when the door clicked shut again did either of them move.
*****
Xavier’s POV
He exhaled slowly. “We’re in deep.”
Mila nodded, her eyes fixed on the empty table.
“He knows we’re looking.”
“Yeah,” Xavier said quietly. “And now he’s looking back.”
- Writer
