Chapter Twenty-Four – The Dungeon Masters

The vent was tighter than I remembered.

Or maybe I was just more aware of every scrape, every creak, every shallow breath echoing off the metal walls. My knees had gone numb somewhere around the second left turn. My shoulders ached from keeping my arms pinned to my sides. The flashlight beam cut through the darkness like a scalpel, illuminating dust motes and the occasional spider web that I definitely did not scream at, well maybe a little.

The voices from earlier had stopped. No more arguing. No more footsteps. Just the hum of machinery somewhere below and the steady drip of condensation from the pipes above my head.

I crawled faster.

The vent opened into a narrow corridor, the grate hanging loose on its hinges. I pushed it open with my foot and tumbled out onto cold concrete, landing in a heap of limbs and adrenaline.

The basement was quiet.

Too quiet.

I stood up slowly, my flashlight sweeping the space. Pipes ran along the ceiling, thick and rusted, dripping water into puddles that reflected my own terrified face back at me. The walls were bare concrete, marked with decades of graffiti and water stains. The air smelled like mildew and chemicals and something metallic, like blood that had been scrubbed away but not forgotten.

The lab door was at the end of the corridor. I could see it from here, the keypad glowing red, the card reader blinking its silent accusation.

No voices. No footsteps. No Helena Vance with a syringe full of pale blue death.

Maybe they'd left. Maybe Madden's security footage was wrong. Maybe…

The door swung open.

I pressed myself against the wall, my heart slamming against my ribs, my hand wrapped around the lockpick set like it could save me.

A figure stepped out.

Short. Messy brown hair. Caleb, from Psych class.

"Nova?" His eyes widened. "What are you doing down here?"

"What are YOU doing down here?"

We stared at each other. Behind him, more figures emerged from the lab. Three of them. Two guys, one girl. All wearing glasses. All holding textbooks. All looking at me like I'd just interrupted something private.

"We asked you first ," the girl said. She had red hair and freckles and a Westbrook hoodie that looked three sizes too big. "This is a restricted area."

"And yet here you are.”

Caleb laughed. It was a nervous sound, high and quick. "We're not in it. We were just... leaving."

"At 9 AM on a Saturday?"

"The basement is quiet. Good for studying." He shrugged. "No distractions."

I looked at the textbooks in their hands. Advanced Biochemistry. Molecular Genetics. Journal of Forensic Sciences.

"Why would you be studying in a restricted lab with a key card and a code you're not supposed to have?"

The three strangers exchanged glances. Caleb's smile faded.

"Look," he said, stepping closer. "It's not what you think. We're not... we're not criminals. We're just…"

"Let me guess. A secret society?"

Silence.

"Oh my God." I pressed my hand to my forehead. "You're in a secret society. In the basement. With the key card and the code and the…"

"The Society of the Curious Mind," the redhead said, lifting her chin. "We're not a secret society. We're an undergraduate research collective."

"That's literally a secret society."

"We have snacks."

I stared at her. She stared back.

Caleb sighed. "We come down here to study. And debate. And sometimes we play Dungeons & Dragons, but please don't tell anyone that part because the biochemistry department will revoke our lab access."

"You play D&D in a restricted lab?"

"The lighting is good."

I looked past them, into the lab. The room was smaller than I'd expected. A few tables. A whiteboard covered in equations. A bookshelf stuffed with journals and textbooks and…yes…a Dungeon Master's Guide.

No photographs of missing girls. No syringes full of pale blue liquid. No Professor Vance or his daughter.

Just nerds. Studying. And playing pretend.

Caleb's face softened. "So what’s your reason for sneaking into the lab?”

“Let’s just say if you keep mine, I’ll keep yours.” I gave a keen smile and they watched as I climbed back the vent.

When I got out Ashley and Madden were not there anymore so I walked out of the building and found Myles waiting outside the BioMed building, his back against a tree, his eyes scanning the windows.

"Anything?" he asked.

"Nerds playing Dungeons & Dragons."

"What?"

"Long story." I slumped against the tree beside him. "The main lab is locked down. Thumbprint and a rotating code. We're not getting in without Vance himself."

"So what now?"

"Now we wait for Detective Cross. She has a warrant for 10 PM."

"That's twelve hours from now."

"I know."

We stood in silence. The morning sun had burned through the clouds, casting pale light across the quad. Students walked past us, laughing, talking, living their ordinary lives.

"I'm sorry," Myles said.

"For what?"

"For not being able to help more. For not being able to…"

"You're here." I looked at him. "That's enough."

He turned to face me. His brown eyes were soft, almost warm, and something in my chest tightened.

"You know," he said, "for someone who's supposedly investigating a murder, you're really bad at staying out of danger."

"It's a gift."

"Some gift you have.”

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers brushed my cheek, feather-light, and I forgot how to breathe.

He smiled. It was small and sad and beautiful, and I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to press my mouth to his and forget about basements and warnings and sisters who drowned in lakes.

But I didn't.

Instead, I took his hand.

He didn't pull away.

---

We walked back to my dorm together, our fingers intertwined, our footsteps matching. The hallways were empty, most students still asleep or at breakfast. Ashley's side of the room was empty,she was probably with Madden, planning the distraction.

Myles sat on the edge of my bed while I paced the room, my mind still spinning.

"We need a new plan," I said. "The warrant is our only option. Detective Cross will have officers with her. We can…”

"Nova. Alexa. Whoever you are right now." He stood up. "Stop pacing. You're making me dizzy."

"I can't stop. My brain won't stop."

"Just relax."

He crossed the room in three steps. His hands found my shoulders. His thumbs pressed gently into the tension at my collarbone.

"Breathe," he said.

"I am breathing."

"Breathe slower."

I tried. His hands were warm, steady, grounding. The room stopped spinning.

"Better?" he asked.

"No. But less bad."

He smiled again, and this time, it reached his eyes.

"You're remarkable, you know that?"

“No I’m not."

"You really are."

We stood there, inches apart, his hands still on my shoulders, my heart still pounding. The morning light slanted through the window, catching the dust motes in the air, turning everything gold.

"Alexa…" he started.

And then he stopped, because his eyes had drifted to my desk.

To the notebook lying open on the surface.

The notebook where I'd written the list of suspects.

The notebook where his name was written in black ink, right between Madden Lighter and Professor Vance.

Myles went still.

"Is that... is that me?"

The gold light suddenly turned cold.