— NOLAN'S POV —
If I was going to get into the director's office, I had to time it perfectly.
One wrong move, and Varek might decide I wasn't allowed to set foot outside the house again.
I asked one of the nurses in passing, pretending it was casual.
"Is Mr. Albrecht in?"
She shook her head. "He's in a meeting right now. Should be gone for a while."
Perfect. His office should be empty.
The corridor felt unusually quiet as I made my way there, my footsteps muffled against the polished tiles.
Most of the staff were busy in other wings, and the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead seemed louder than usual.
I glanced over my shoulder once, twice, then pushed open the director's door.
The first thing I noticed was the smell—faintly like lemon polish, the kind that clings to wood. Everything was painfully orderly. The desk sat in the exact center of the room, not a paper out of place. A wall of certificates framed in identical black borders. The blinds were drawn halfway, letting in a thin ribbon of afternoon light that cut across the floor.
And… that was it. No family photo on the desk, no books that looked like they'd been read, no mug with coffee stains.
Nothing that told me anything about the man. It was a space without a soul—like a stage set, waiting for someone to play the role of "Director."
I didn't know exactly what I was looking for, but I knew I had to start somewhere. I slid open the drawers one by one.
The first held neatly stacked folders—recent reports, all labeled in the same sharp handwriting. The second was filled with identical pens, lined up like soldiers. The third—locked.
My pulse ticked up a notch.
I started scanning the room. The top of the filing cabinet. The shelf above the radiator. Even behind the certificates on the wall. Nothing.
Then my eyes caught on a small potted plant at the edge of the desk—a little fern, its soil dry and cracking. I brushed against it by accident, and it tilted slightly. Something metallic caught the light beneath it.
A key.
I bent down, picked it up, and felt its weight in my hand. It was small, brass, and cool to the touch. My heart gave a hopeful thud as I tried it in the locked drawer…
Click—no, wait. It didn't turn. Wrong key.
Before I could think about what else it might open, I heard footsteps approaching from the hallway—slow, deliberate.
Mr. Albrecht.
Panic flashed through me. If he had any connection to the people who attacked me, I couldn't let him find me here. I pushed the drawers closed, realigned the chair exactly how it had been, and stepped toward the door—just as the handle began to turn.
Then Zade's voice broke through, casual but loud enough for me to catch.
"Director, I've got something I need your advice on—mind stepping out for a minute?"
A short pause, then Albrecht's voice: "Of course, Zade. You rarely ask for help—let's see what it is."
Their footsteps receded, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. My chest still felt tight.
I slipped the key into my pocket and left the office as if nothing had happened.
When I opened my own office door, Zade was already inside, leaning back in my chair with that infuriating grin.
"What exactly are you thinking, Nolan?" he said, tilting his head.
"Thinking about what?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light.
"I saw you sneaking into the director's office earlier."
I smirked. "Ah… so that's how your timing was perfect. I should've guessed."
"Don't dodge the question. What are you up to?"
I hesitated for a beat before telling him about the attack in my apartment and the things I'd been digging into. Everything—except Varek.
When I finished, Zade's smile was gone. "And you didn't think to tell me any of this?"
"I didn't want to drag you into something dangerous. You're my best friend, Zade. My only one."
He studied me for a moment, the concern in his eyes making me look away. "This is serious, Nolan. Stay out of it. Come stay with me for now."
"I'm already staying with someone."
His eyebrows shot up. "Someone? I thought I was your only best friend."
"He's… a school friend. We reconnected recently, while you were away."
"You can trust this guy?"
"Right now," I said quietly, "he feels like the safest person I know."
Zade's frown deepened. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," I replied, leaning back. "Just that he can be trusted. You can relax."
But in my pocket, the weight of the key reminded me—this was only the beginning.