Chapter 128

The archives held the kind of quiet that makes your skin prickle. Shelves rose in long aisles, with dark wood and old bindings, and the smell of burned paper still clung to the air from the maps we had saved. I kept my lantern low, walking with careful steps that swallowed the sound of my boots.

Nathan had stationed a guard at the main door, but I came in through the catalogue room so I could move without explanation. I wanted to see what had been disturbed, not hear about it secondhand. The house itself seemed to lean in around me, each creak of the wood and sigh of the stone reminding me that secrets here did not like to stay buried.

The map drawers along the back wall had been left slightly open. I set the lantern down and pulled one free. The index cards inside were sorted by hand, edges soft from years of use. Another drawer held inventories with a red ribbon tied across a section. The knot felt rough with ash, like someone had fumbled to close it in a hurry.

A third drawer had an empty envelope tucked beneath the cards. Pressed into the paper was the faint outline of a broken seal. The sight of it sent a ripple of cold through me. Whoever had been here wasn’t just rummaging, they were signaling something. I slid the envelope back and forced my hand to stay steady, though my pulse was quick and sharp.

I straightened and froze. A cloaked figure stood at the end of the aisle, the hood turned toward me in a way that made the air feel heavier. When they spoke, the voice scraped low. “Keep digging, and Richard will die.”

The lantern rattled in my hand. “Who are you?” My voice didn’t carry the strength I wanted, but I made myself stand straighter. I hated how cold fear slid down my back.

“Someone you should have listened to.” The figure moved closer, the light catching a mask under the hood. “This house will bury you in the bones you’re unearthing.” The words felt less like a warning and more like a promise. The deliberate pace, the calm weight behind the threat, it all rang of someone who thought they had already won.

Behind me, I caught the sound of steps. Richard’s stride, I’d know it anywhere. Nathan’s heavier tread followed. Relief and dread tangled in my chest. I lifted the lantern, forcing my voice steady. “I’m done walking away. Show me your face.”

Richard came fast down the aisle. Nathan cut in from the side. The intruder spun, cloak flaring, and sprinted. I grabbed at the sleeve as they brushed past. It tore with a sharp rip, revealing a flash of silver: Callen’s signet ring. The carved crest was unmistakable, proof that should have settled everything, yet somehow left more questions than answers.

Richard swore and lunged, but the figure slipped past into the shadows. At the next turn a support beam cracked with a groan. Plaster dust rained down, choking the aisle. I stumbled back as the ceiling threatened to give way, my lantern swinging wildly.

An arm closed around me, hauling me clear. “Easy,” Darius’s voice murmured, steady against my ear. “Got you.”

The beam crashed where I’d been standing. The sound thundered through the archives, followed by the clatter of falling debris. Staff rushed in at the noise, eyes wide. A clerk saw Darius’s arm around me and started praising him loudly, others joining in until the air was thick with thanks. Their gratitude rolled through the room until it felt staged, like a chorus rehearsed too many times. My stomach twisted. I could feel Richard’s eyes on us even before I turned.

Richard arrived, Nathan just behind him. Richard’s eyes flicked to Darius’s cuff, where dust had pressed into the seam, and then to the tools at his belt. One hinge pin was shaved down to a bright edge. Darius gave a smile that looked too smooth. “Lucky timing,” he said.

“Lucky,” Richard answered, voice neutral, though I could see the storm gathering in his eyes. He didn’t call him out in front of staff. He didn’t need to. I could feel his suspicion in the tension between us.

Nathan crouched at the fallen beam. “Forced along the split. Someone pushed it.” He held up a metal pin, shaved clean, the edges bright. His words hung in the air, an accusation not spoken but understood.

Darius was already lifting debris, letting staff see his effort. Their thanks piled higher, but I kept watching the dust on his sleeve. I knew Richard saw it too. The entire scene was a performance, and Darius played his part flawlessly. The problem was, everyone wanted to believe it.

Later, in the strategy room, Simon poured dried petals onto the table. “Black poppy. Same sedative linked to Theo. Supplier connects to Darius.” He touched the petals like they burned. The faint sour smell of them made me nauseous.

Monroe added invoices, each with familiar errors in the math. “Same hand as Darius’s contracts.” The evidence grew heavier with every sheet of paper spread across the table. Piece by piece, it built a picture too ugly to ignore.

I stared at the petals, remembering Theo’s body slack in a chair, his lips pale, the way my hands had shaken as I tried to rouse him. The memory bit deep, sharper now that I knew the drug’s name. The room seemed to shrink and tilt until I had to plant both hands on the table to keep steady. Richard’s voice cut through the fog, anchoring me back to the present.

When the others left, Richard paced. His boots struck the floor in a rhythm I had come to know, each pass across the room meant another thought wrestled into shape. “When I’m scared, I try to control everything. I grab, I order, I tighten my hold. It isn’t to make you small. It’s to stop the ground from falling out beneath you.”

I folded my arms, trying to cover the raw place inside me. “And when I chase a lead, it looks like recklessness. Maybe it is. But I can’t live with not knowing. That doesn’t mean I don’t see the risks.”

He stopped in front of me, close enough that the heat of him blurred irritation with want. The air between us thickened. “Then no more silence. You tell me when you’re running into fire. I’ll tell you when my fear makes me cruel.”

“Honesty, even when it’s ugly,” I said. My throat felt tight, but I meant it.

“Especially then.” He took my hand. I let him, even as memory of last night’s heat curled inside me. His pulse jumped under my thumb, and I realized how close we were to losing ourselves in that pull again. For a moment, I thought about pulling him closer, about forgetting the world beyond the door. It almost broke me to let go when Nathan came back.

Nathan entered with a lamp and a cloth. He uncovered Callen’s hands. Under UV, tracer ink glowed along his cuticles and the webs of his fingers. He tried to hide it, tucking his hands into his sleeves, but the glow betrayed him. “You brushed a sealed artifact that was tagged tonight,” Nathan said flatly. “The council will want to know how.”

Richard ordered the trap set. Callen was led away without protest, though the calm on his face looked practiced, like a mask that had been used too many times.

Mira found me in the corridor after. She hugged her sketchbook tight to her chest. “I saw them,” she whispered. “Callen and Darius. Near the loading bay. Whispering. When they saw me, Darius laughed and said he was checking for cracks. Callen looked through me.” Her words came quick, as if she had been holding them back for days.

“You did right to tell me,” I said. She nodded, relieved, and walked quickly away, head down.

When I told Richard, his expression went still in that dangerous way that meant a plan was already forming. His eyes had the sharp focus of someone who saw every piece of the board at once. “We use it,” he said. “We wait until everything is on the table.”

I thought of the ring on the intruder’s hand, the dust on Darius’s cuff, the black poppy on Simon’s desk, the tracer glow staining Callen. None of this was coincidence. The Hollow wasn’t a story anymore. It was a snare tightening around us, and its teeth were closer every day. The thought should have terrified me, but as I glanced at Richard and felt the weight of his hand brush mine, I realized I was steadier than I should have been. The fear was real, but so was the fire in me. Together we were preparing to face it, even if it burned us both.