Chapter Eighteen: Before the Storm
591 Words
Mila’s POV
The sunset bled across the dorm walls in streaks of orange and violet, bathing everything in a nervous glow.
I sat on my bed, tying my hair back, listening to the faint hum of voices from the hallway.
Everyone else was laughing about something — a test, a meme, a crush.
Meanwhile, I was planning a break-in with the one person I swore I’d never speak to again.
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror.
Tired eyes.
Steady hands.
Too calm for what I was about to do.
Xavier had texted twenty minutes ago:
> “Meet at the garden gate. 10:45 sharp.”
No emojis, no explanation. Just like him.
I slipped my notebook into my bag — the one with the code from the corrupted footage written inside.
If we could just get into the west wing computer lab, maybe, maybe, I could finally trace who sent that message.
And maybe prove that I wasn’t losing my mind.
*****
Xavier’s POV
I’d gone over the plan a dozen times in my head, but it still didn’t feel solid.
Too many gaps. Too many unknowns.
The west wing had been sealed for years — ever since the fire that took out half the lab servers.
But someone had reactivated a few of the cameras recently.
Someone who wasn’t supposed to.
And that someone had used Mila’s name to access them.
I shut my locker quietly, checking the hallway. Empty.
For a second, I thought about what would happen if we got caught — expulsion, maybe worse.
But then I remembered the look in Mila’s eyes that night in the library — that stubborn mix of fear and defiance.
No way was I letting her face this alone.
*****
Writer’s POV
The school was quieter than usual that night.
Too quiet.
A storm was brewing outside — soft rumbles echoing from far away.
Lightning flared once, illuminating the tall windows of the west wing, then vanished into darkness again.
In the security office, Mrs. Hale watched the feed — three screens flickering faintly.
Two of them showed the corridors; the third one had gone static.
She frowned. “System glitch?”
But before she could check, a faint voice came through the intercom:
> “Section West is active. Maintain silence.”
Her stomach dropped.
Something wasn’t right.
Something bigger than two students sneaking around.
*****
Mila’s POV
The garden gate creaked as I pushed it open.
Xavier was already there, leaning against the wall in his hoodie, hands shoved into his pockets.
“You’re late,” he said.
“You’re impatient,” I shot back, adjusting my backpack.
He smirked. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
He nodded once, then handed me a small flashlight. “Stay close. The west wing’s pitch black.”
As we moved along the empty corridor, every step echoed too loud.
The air smelled faintly of burnt plastic — old fire scars that never quite faded.
When we reached the locked door, Xavier bent down, pulling out a flat piece of metal.
I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You can pick locks?”
He grinned without looking up. “You learn things when you get detention often enough.”
The door clicked open.
*****
Writer’s POV
They slipped inside — two silhouettes swallowed by darkness.
Behind them, the hallway lights flickered once.
Far above, on the hidden monitor feed, a red dot blinked to life beside their names.
“SUBJECTS ENTER WEST WING.”
“PHASE TWO INITIATED.”
- Writer
