Lottie's footsteps tapped lightly against the polished floor, each step measured, each breath a carefully controlled thread of sound. The weight of Evelyn's gaze bore into her back, sharp as the prick of a needle, and the tension in the air hung brittle between them. Lottie kept her shoulders loose, the faintest sway in her hips a mimicry of boredom, her fingers brushing casually along the strap of her bag. But beneath the surface, her pulse drummed hard and fast, a heady rhythm that filled her chest with heat, sharp as the taste of metal on her tongue.
Near the door, she allowed herself the smallest pause—a subtle hesitation that sent a ripple through the room. Her eyes flicked sideways, catching Leo's silhouette slouched deep into a chair, a book half-lowered in his hands. His gaze met hers over the rim, sharp and unreadable, his fingers drumming a slow, idle beat against the cover. Lottie's lips curved into a fleeting smirk, a phantom flicker of connection, before she turned away, the faint swish of her skirt brushing her knees, her fingers flexing at her side to ease the tight coil in her chest.
Behind her, Evelyn's friends clustered near the study tables, heads bent low, fingers dancing furiously across glowing screens. The soft hiss of whispers threaded through the stillness like static, sharp glances darting toward the door as they fired off texts—coiled, coordinated, convinced they were tightening the noose. Lottie felt the current of their anticipation brush against her skin, the weight of their expectation pressing at her shoulders like a phantom touch. She let her mouth quirk in a brief, almost imperceptible smile.
She let the door slip shut behind her with a soft click, the cool air of the hallway brushing her skin like a whispered sigh. For a beat, she leaned against the wood, eyes closed, the faint scent of old varnish and lavender polish seeping into her breath. Her heartbeat slowed, the frantic edge softening into something almost languid. A slow, delicious smirk tugged at her mouth as she pressed her forehead briefly against the door, the sharp flicker of satisfaction tightening low in her chest. Then, without a word, she pushed off and moved.
The narrow side corridor unfolded before her, dimly lit and deserted, its scuffed floor tiles gleaming faintly under the scattered glow of emergency lights. Lottie's fingers brushed lightly against the cold stone wall as she slipped around the bend, feet silent, body drawn taut like a bowstring. Outside the tall windows, the courtyard loomed in fractured shadows, moonlight silvering the sharp edges of hedges and benches. The night air tasted sharp on her tongue, carrying the faint scent of damp leaves and cold stone. The chill kissed her skin, sent goosebumps skittering up her arms, but inside, her blood ran hot.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, a faint tremor against her hip. She tugged it free, thumb swiping across the screen, and a grin tugged at her lips as Amy's message flashed up: "Careful. They're moving fast." Lottie tapped a quick reply—"Let them. I'm already through."—her fingers swift and sure, the familiar motion grounding her as her pulse steadied to a fierce, focused hum. She tucked the phone away, her eyes flicking once toward the dim window, then slipped into motion again, the sleek glide of her footsteps soundless on the tile.
Inside the library, Evelyn's nerves were beginning to fray. Lottie could picture it: the impatient flick of fingers, the subtle shift in posture, the tightening line of her mouth. From the corner of her eye, Leo shifted as well, the quiet scrape of a chair leg marking his subtle repositioning. His fingers drummed once, twice, against the armrest—a signal only Lottie would notice. She smiled faintly, a flush of heat curling under her ribs, her heart tightening in a rush of anticipation as she circled toward the side entrance.
The heavy door was cool beneath her fingers. The latch lifted with a soft snick, and she slid inside like a wraith, the hush of the library wrapping around her shoulders. The scent of paper and ink filled her lungs, grounding her as she crouched low behind a shelf. The world sharpened into fragments: the shuffle of shoes, the faint click of fingernails against a phone screen, the brittle tinkle of nervous laughter. A breath hitched in someone's throat; a whispered name darted through the air like a thrown knife.
Lottie's breath came shallow and even, a steady pulse in the quiet. Her skin prickled with awareness as she watched Evelyn from the shadows, saw the tight coil of her shoulders, the sharp angle of her jaw. Evelyn's fingers moved over her phone, rapid and sure, but a flash of frustration flickered in her eyes as the minutes ticked by with no sign of her quarry. Lottie's mouth curved slightly, her teeth catching lightly on the inside of her cheek as she tasted the rising tension in the room. Her fingers hovered near the edge of the shelf, nails grazing wood, the cool press anchoring her.
Leo yawned elaborately, stretching his arms above his head before settling deeper into his chair, the book now forgotten on his lap. His gaze flicked sideways, sharp and intent, as if measuring the weight of every heartbeat in the room. Lottie saw the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, the restrained curve of amusement as Evelyn's composure began to crack, the imperceptible shift from cool confidence to tight-edged irritation.
Outside the window, a sharp gust of wind rattled the glass, the bare branches of the oak tree scratching faintly against the pane. Lottie's fingers curled briefly around the edge of the bookshelf, the cool wood grounding her as her heartbeat thrummed in her ears. She watched as Evelyn paced, one sharp pivot, then another, her frustration mounting with each futile pass. Lottie felt the delicious knot of anticipation tighten in her chest, her breath slipping free in a slow, measured exhale. Her skin tingled, the air alive against her arms, every inch of her aware.
A flicker of movement drew Lottie's attention—a glint of a screen lifted to a friend's ear, a hurried whisper threading through the stillness. Lottie's pulse quickened, the rush of adrenaline dancing along her skin as she pieced together the hastily woven strands of the plot. She could almost taste the tension in the air, the sharp tang of anticipation, the brittle edge of looming collapse. Her fingers hovered near the strap of her bag, a faint tremor rippling through her muscles as she waited, poised on the cusp of revelation.
As she shifted position, her foot brushed lightly against a stray pencil on the floor, sending it rolling in a lazy arc across the tiles. She froze, breath caught in her throat, shoulders tightening as the pencil clattered softly against the base of the shelf. Evelyn's head jerked up, eyes narrowing, lips pressing into a thin line. Lottie's heart slammed once against her ribs, then steadied, her fingers flattening briefly against the wood. The beat of silence that followed was taut enough to slice skin.
But Evelyn's focus remained fixed, her attention laser-tight on the front entrance where Lottie was supposed to be.
A slow, faint smile curved Lottie's lips as she ducked further into the shadows, the thrill of control threading through her chest like wildfire. She could feel it—Evelyn's certainty, that delicious edge of premature triumph. And oh, how she would savor watching it slip away.
Her phone buzzed again, a soft pulse against her palm. She lifted it, thumb brushing the screen.
Leo: She's cracking.
A laugh ghosted out of Lottie, barely a breath, barely a sound, but it danced along her skin like lightning. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, swift and sure.
Lottie: Wait for it. She's about to tip.
Evelyn's posture stiffened abruptly, the sudden rigid line of her shoulders a crack through the carefully laid mask. Her fingers tightened on her phone, nails biting into the case, and Lottie saw the tremor in her hand, the flicker of something raw and unguarded dart across her face. Her jaw clenched, the faintest flicker of panic flashing in her eyes before she smoothed it away, lips curving into a brittle, too-sharp smile. Lottie could almost hear the brittle snap inside her sister's chest, the sharp sting of doubt creeping through her bloodstream.
In the hush of the library, the tension thickened, a near-palpable pulse in the air. Leo shifted again, his fingers tapping a faint rhythm against the armrest, his eyes glinting with quiet calculation. Lottie felt the pulse of the moment, the exquisite edge of it, every nerve alight. Her own breath quickened, chest rising in a slow, measured inhale, every movement deliberate, precise.
As Evelyn spun sharply, her gaze sweeping the room in a wild arc, Lottie eased back into the dark, heart racing, skin flushed with adrenaline. A sharp edge of triumph glittered in her chest, tempered with the delicate precision of strategy. She drew in a slow breath, the air cool against her tongue, the faint metallic taste of victory already brushing her throat.
The storm was about to break.
And Lottie was already ten steps beyond the lightning.