Alia was free of Vantaire for the day, which meant only Noctis lectures and a decently chaotic lunch break. Light schedule, heavy brain fog. Her limbs ached from drills, but she wasn't about to let that get in the way of a decent distraction.
She sat at the atrium table across from Cade, spearing pieces of roasted squash with her fork like they'd done her wrong. Zuri was nowhere to be found—probably off being morally grey somewhere—and Tessa? Tessa's cheeks were probably bleeding into Malik's shirt by now, judging by the last time Alia saw them giggling near the vending machine.
So it was just Cade and her, and for once, it wasn't unbearable.
He made her laugh. Genuinely. He had this dry wit paired with that reckless grin—one of those smiles that made you forget he was still on the school's unofficial watchlist.
They joked about teachers with anger issues, swapped tragic stories about private school blazers that cost more than entire bank accounts, and argued playfully over whether mint ice cream was a war crime.
Cade wasn't… bad company.
But still, if there was anything to be cautious of, it was that smile. That damn grin, like he knew something you didn't. The kind of smile that probably preceded most of his bad decisions.
After lunch, they loitered in the hallway longer than they should've. Students passed, the noise folding into background blur. She was leaning against her locker, and Cade stood in front of her, close enough to smell his cologne—something dark and expensive and almost irritatingly good.
That's when she saw her.
Carmen.
Passing through the corridor with her House Noctis pin crooked and a tight expression on her face. She looked like she was walking through a storm no one else could see. Her brows were furrowed, lips pressed tight. Her steps were sharp, purposeful. Something was off.
Alia didn't say anything.
She just watched.
Watched with those storm-soft eyes that always lingered a second too long, always said too much without ever saying a word.
And the worst part? Carmen didn't even see her. She passed by like a ghost, too caught up in her own hurricane. Alia could've been a wall plant for all she noticed.
But Cade noticed.
Of course he did.
He glanced over his shoulder, then back at Alia, one brow raised and a smirk twitching at his mouth.
"Don't tell me you dumped me for her," he quipped, his tone soaked in mischief.
Alia smirked, head tilted, tongue against her cheek as she gave him that look.
"You better believe it," she purred, completely unfazed.
And the funny thing?
She wasn't joking.
---
After Cade left—off to whatever cryptic nonsense second-year boys with sharp jawlines and sharper secrets got up to—Alia was alone again, left to battle the existential boredom of a vending machine that refused to accept her card.
She stared at her reflection in the glass. Did her hair always do that weird flip? Whatever.
With nothing else to do and a sugar rush threatening to dip, her mind spiraled back to Callum's cryptic reply from the night before.
Vault's north corridor. Eastern descent.
She replayed it, rolling it around her skull like a marble. North corridor. Eastern descent. Sounded like a quest prompt from a stealth mission, not a place in a high school.
But this was St. Bernard's. And nothing here was ever just a hallway.
Alia wandered through the school like someone with time to waste and secrets to dig. She found herself back at the exit to the arcade, her boots scuffing against old tile. The light flickered once—drama—and she found herself at a fork: one hallway stretching north, the other curling deeper east.
She paused.
Held up both hands. Right was EAST, left was NORTH.
Rock. Paper. Scissors.
Best of one.
Right hand: scissors. Left: paper.
"East it is," she muttered, like fate had a sense of humor.
She walked.
Turned two corners.
Passed an old cleaning cupboard and what might've once been a trophy room. Then her steps slowed.
There.
Tucked into the shadows of an unlit corridor, she found the door.
The one she had stumbled upon the other night at the party.
She looked around. Empty. Quiet.
Alia reached for the console—encrypted.
Of course.
She peered closer and saw it. A thin panel on the right. Matte black. Required sovereign clearance.
She clicked her tongue, squinting at the panel. "Cute."
But she wasn't about to stand there and get caught.
If a Sovereign pass was what she needed…
Well, she did have one.
She shoved her hand in her pocket and brought out a slim card, attached to a rope which was looped around her fingers.
---
15:44 — The vault
Within the vault walls—cold, humming faintly with old power and older secrets—Betty stood still, staring at the row of server stacks and silent, blinking panels. She'd been there too many times to count, but something about today felt off.
"Alviero."
Carmen turned at her name.
Betty's voice was smooth, crisp, and somehow more serious than usual.
"The files I flagged last week," Betty said, not looking at her directly, "they were missing two nights ago."
Carmen tensed. "And?"
"And they're back."
Betty finally turned, her silver-blonde hair catching the blue fluorescence of the vault lights. "Exactly where they were. Like nothing ever happened."
Carmen's brows furrowed. "So… maybe nothing did?"
"I'm not a rookie, Carmen." Her voice stayed level. "I double-checked. The dossiers on certain students—particularly the Vantaire-candidates and the ex-Caelus shadows—were inaccessible. The biometric access logs showed interference."
"But no breach?"
Betty's lip twitched—too contained to be a frown, too cynical to be a smile.
"No reported breach."
That hung in the air for a beat.
Carmen didn't respond. Her mind was spinning—but she didn't let it show.
Betty adjusted her sleeves, stepping back from the glowing interface.
"Regardless," she continued coolly, "I'll notify Callahan. Have him wipe the access permissions and rewrite new serials for all Vault passes. Including yours."
Carmen nodded. "Good idea."
There was a pause. Barely there— a moment of stillness.
"Yeah, I don't wanna be gaslit by the doors."
Then Betty turned on her heel, heels clicking neatly across the vault floor as she left Carmen in the electric quiet.
---
Carmen exhaled. Alone now. The hum of the tech pressed against her skull, static crawling along her skin like a whisper.
Something was wrong.
She glanced over her shoulder once more, scanning the shelves—then reached into her blazer and pulled out her cuff.
Tapped twice.
No alerts. No pings. No evidence that someone had piggybacked off her data trail.
But still—she didn't like it.
She'd gone too long trusting the safety of the Vault. And if someone had been in here… and put everything back just to avoid being caught?
That was more terrifying than if they'd just stolen it outright.
Just as Carmen turned to leave, she was bumped into by someone rounding the corner at full speed.
She staggered back slightly—caught between reflex and irritation—only to see Alia standing there.
Disheveled. Slightly breathless. Eyes wide like she'd seen a ghost and then decided to chase it anyway.
Nothing had ever shocked Carmen more.
"…You?"
Alia winced. "Hi."
Carmen blinked. "What are you doing down here?"
Alia opened her mouth, then closed it again. A beat. She rubbed the back of her neck like she could scrub the lie off her skin.
"I—uh—I got lost."
Carmen's jaw twitched. "Lost? Really?"
"Yup."
Silence.
They both stood there. Carmen sharp as a blade, Alia glowing with something like nervous amusement. Or was it embarrassment?