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The past week has been eerily calm, like the quiet before a storm. No threats, no confrontations, an uneasy silence hanging over us. It’s been enough to make me paranoid, always glancing over my shoulder and half-expecting trouble around every corner.
Lyric and I walk side by side to our shared class, the crisp morning air biting at our cheeks. The campus is bustling, students hurrying to their next destination, but our conversation feels isolated like we’re in our own bubble.
“I can't shake the feeling that something's about to happen,” Lyric says, her voice quavering despite the cheery demeanor she put on for Eli earlier. She tightens her grip on the strap of her bag, her knuckles white.
I nod, my eyes scanning the crowd. “Yeah, it’s been too quiet. Almost like they're planning something big.”
Lyric glances up at me, worry etched in her features. “What do you think they might do?”
“I wouldn’t put it past them to try and blindside us, but we’re ready for whatever they try,” I say, trying to inject some confidence into my tone. “We just need to stay vigilant.”
She takes a deep breath and nods. “I trust you, Zane. I just hope it’s something we can handle.”
“We can,” I assure her. “Listen, Lyric, we’ve come too far to let them hurt us now. Whatever they do, we can handle it together.”
We reach the doors of the classroom and I push them open, letting Lyric go in first. As we find our seats, I can’t help but feel the tension in the air.
Something prickles at my skin, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I feel like the storm is brewing. I can’t put my finger on it, but it makes me grip Lyric’s hand under our desks.
About halfway through the lecture, the door opens and several campus officers storm inside. They’re wearing full uniforms, polished badges gleaming under the lighting. An officer whose badge readsParsons,calls out, “Lyric Shaw?”
My stomach clenches in a knot and I glance over to see Lyric’s face go completely pale. “That’s me,” she says, voice faint.
“We need you to come with us,” Parsons says, his tone brokering no room for argument. He waits while Lyric gathers her things and then they march her out of the room together.
Without hesitation, I throw my stuff in my bag and follow, unwilling to let Lyric face whatever is happening alone.
In the hallway, the officers grab her bag and start examining the contents, roughly going through everything with the force of a hurricane.
“What the hell is going on?” I demand, watching Lyric’s face. She looks on the verge of a panic attack, her breathing coming in little rapid bursts. “You have to calm down,” I tell her, pulling her toward me.
“You can’t be here,” another officer says, his voice brusque. “You need to leave. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Like hell!” I snarl. “I’m not going anywhere. What the hell are you looking for?”
“If you interfere with a police investigation, you’ll be placed under arrest,” Parsons snarls.
Anger courses through me. “If you try to arrest me, I’ll get my family’s law firm on the phone,” I grind out. “The Hudson’s are some of the biggest donors to this school. The library has a wing named after our grandfather. Do you really want me to get the lawyers involved?” I ask.
Parsons seems to back down slightly at this, glaring at me but returning to helping his fellow officers search Lyric’s things.
I glance over to look at Lyric and she’s frozen in place. She’s got a look of fear on her face that has my stomach in knots. I need to protect her from whatever is happening.
“You'd better tell me what the fuck is going on right now or I’m going to call our lawyers,” I tell them, whipping out my phone and starting to dial the number anyway.
“Miss Shaw has been reported for having narcotics,” Parsons clips out. “She’s facing expulsion if we find them.”
“This is unlawful!” I argue. “You have no reason to suspect her!”
“We need you to come with us to the station,” Parsons tells Lyric. “We have to do a pat-down.”
“You can’t take her!” I yell. “I’m going to make your lives hell if you touch her!”
“You can call your lawyers if you want, but if Miss Shaw doesn’t cooperate and come willingly, we can always arrest her,” Parsons says, a sneer on his face.
“Don’t,” Lyric says, turning to me and speaking softly. “Don’t make this worse. Go get the others. Tell them what’s happening. I’ll go with them, but I know you guys will be able to help me. I can’t do this alone, Zane,” she says.
I cup her cheek, glancing behind her at the waiting officers. Parsons gets his handcuffs out, but I take a step back.
