A large teen paced around the room, his brows furrowed in deep thought. The youth's shoulders were big, his curly hair bouncing with every step he took.
Two other teens watched him silently, each seated on a comfortable arm chair. The mood was somber—filled with trepidation.
The room was more of a waiting room than it was a prison, but they all knew despite this, they were indeed in custody.
"How long are they going to keep us here?" Troy muttered with impatience, unable to keep still.
It had been hours since they'd been brought here, yet no one had so much as checked on them in this time. It was as if they'd been forgotten.
Randolph had his head lowered, his eyes red from the tears he'd shed, whereas Peter was somber—almost as if he'd accepted the situation.
"Are they going to expel us?" Randolph asked softly.
"There's a good chance," Peter beside him replied impassively. "Professor Stark looked as if he wanted to rip us apart…"
