Chapter 622
[ 509 words ]
Chapter 622:
She walked quickly down the long corridor and back into the relative quiet of the barracks bay. She sat on the edge of her bunk and began to expertly break down and clean her tactical boots, her movements methodical and sure.
Five minutes passed. The barracks began to fill up again as recruits, their hair damp and skin pink, rushed back from the showers, a frantic energy in their movements.
Caroline glanced at the black tactical watch on her wrist. Seven minutes until formation.
She looked toward the door. No sign of Brenna or Hailey. A knot of unease began to tighten in her stomach. They should have been back by now.
Just then, Harper walked in. Her hair was damp, and she was humming a tuneless, cheerful little song. She sauntered over to her bunk and threw her wet towel onto her perfectly made bed, a look of profound, chilling satisfaction on her face.
𝖩𝗈in 𝘁𝘩𝗈u𝗌𝖺ո𝗱ѕ 𝗈𝘧 𝘧а𝗻𝗌 oո gа𝗅no𝘷e𝘭𝘀.со𝗺
Caroline stood up. The unease in her gut solidified into cold certainty.
She crossed the space between their bunks in three long strides. “Where are they?” she asked, her voice low and cold.
Harper feigned a look of surprise. She shrugged, an exaggerated gesture of innocence. “How should I know? I took my shower and I left. I don’t keep track of the lower-class help.”
Caroline’s eyes narrowed. She saw it then. A flicker of something vicious and triumphant in Harper’s eyes. A micro-expression of pure, malicious glee. Her training, the part of her that read people for a living, screamed at her. Liar.
She took a half-step closer. The sheer intensity of her focus, the cold, controlled anger radiating from her, was a physical force. Harper flinched back instinctively, her legs hitting the metal frame of her bunk with a dull clang.
“If you did something to them,” Caroline whispered, her voice a silken threat, “you will regret it more than anything you have ever done in your miserable, privileged life.”
Harper’s fear was momentarily overcome by a surge of defiant bravado. “Maybe they just slipped,” she sneered, her voice trembling slightly. “Maybe they fell and broke their pathetic little necks. Accidents happen.”
A piercing shriek from a whistle cut through the air from the corridor outside. It was the three-minute warning. The final call.
Panic erupted in the barracks. The remaining recruits scrambled for the door, a frantic stampede of bodies.
Harper’s face broke into a wide, triumphant grin. She smoothed her uniform, adjusted her collar, and turned to join the exodus.
Caroline stood frozen in place, her fists clenched so tightly her fingernails dug into her palms, drawing blood.
The choice was brutal. Go to formation, and she was safe. Go back for her friends, and she would be late. Late meant punishment. Late meant being flagged as a problem. Late could mean washing out.
An image flashed in her mind: Brenna, in the hospital, standing up to a roomful of hostile nurses, defending her. She’s my friend.
The decision was made.
The ice in her veins turned to fire. She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t weigh the options a second longer.
She turned and ran.
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