Chapter 5 The Trap

The library at Oakridge Academy was massive, three stories of dark mahogany bookshelves, stained-glass windows, and carpets so thick they swallowed the sound of your footsteps. At this hour, it was completely deserted. The librarian had already locked up the front desk and left for the day, but the side doors near the study carrels were always left unlocked for the evening cleaning crew.

I slipped inside, my heart hammering against my ribs. The shadow of my meeting with Julian still hung over me like a suffocating shroud.

"Over here," a voice whispered from the darkness.

I jumped and quickly turned around. Liam stepped out from behind a shelf of large historical encyclopedias. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder, his dark eyes alert and scanning the empty room behind me.

"You’re late," he said, his voice a low, rough murmur. "I was starting to think you chickened out."

"Julian cornered me," I whispered, rushing up to him. The sheer terror of the memory made my voice shake. "Liam, he knows. He knows I have something. He threatened my scholarship. He threatened me. He said I shouldn't go back to the boiler room because I might get trapped."

Liam’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. His hands balled into fists, his knuckles turning white. "That bastard. He’s trying to scare you off. But that just means we’re close. If he had the proof, he wouldn't be playing mind games with you. He’d already have destroyed it."

"We need to find that ledger and get out of here," I said, looking around the towering bookshelves. The shadows cast by the high windows looked like reaching fingers. "But where do we even start? This library has thousands of books."

"Charlotte spent half her life in here," Liam said, turning to walk deeper into the archives. "She hated being at home with my stepdad and Julian. When she was stressed, she hid here. Think, Joy. Did she have a favorite spot? Somewhere she always sat when you saw her?"

I closed my eyes, trying to force my panicked brain to think clearly. I pictured Charlotte. She was always composed, always perfect, but sometimes I would see her tucked away in the back corners of the library, surrounded by stacks of old, leather-bound books.

"The local history section," I said suddenly, opening my eyes. "In the very back of the second floor. She was always reading those old archives about the founding families of the town. She said the past was the only place where people couldn't lie to your face."

"Let's go," Liam said.

We crept up the spiral cast-iron staircase to the second floor. The metal steps groaned softly under our weight, making me flinch with every step. We made our way to the far corner, where the air smelled of dust, dry paper, and age. The shelves here were packed with heavy, weathered volumes that looked like they hadn't been touched in decades.

We began pulling books off the shelves, checking behind them, searching for anything that looked out of place. Minutes felt like hours. My hands were covered in dust, and my anxiety was climbing higher with every tick of the clock.

"Nothing," Liam muttered, slamming a heavy book back onto a shelf. "Are you sure this is the place?"

"She was always here, Liam. I swear." I reached up to the highest shelf, my fingers brushing against a row of matching, vintage law books. I pulled on the spine of one, expecting it to slide out.

It didn't budge.

I frowned, pulling harder. Instead of a book coming loose, a small, wooden panel behind the row of fake book spines slid open with a soft click.

My breath caught in my throat. "Liam..."

He was by my side in an instant. I reached my hand into the dark, hidden compartment. My fingers brushed against something cold, smooth, and rectangular. I wrapped my hand around it and pulled it out into the dim light.

It was a medium-sized notebook bound in weathered, dark red leather.

"We found it," I whispered, my eyes wide.

Liam stared at the red book in my hands. For a second, a look of pure relief washed over his face. He reached out, his hand brushing against mine as he touched the cover. The warmth of his fingers sent a strange, sudden jolt through my arm, grounding me in the middle of all the madness.

"She did it," Liam breathed. "This is the proof. We can finally…"

CLACK.

The heavy, metallic sound of a deadbolt locking echoed from the first floor.

Both of our heads snapped toward the staircase.

"What was that?" I whispered, my chest tightening.

Before Liam could answer, the overhead lights flickered once, twice, and then died completely. The library was plunged into pitch-black darkness, save for the pale moonlight filtering through the high windows.

Then, a high-pitched, deafening shriek pierced the silence.

The fire alarms.

"We have to move," Liam yelled over the noise of the siren, grabbing my hand. He pulled me toward the spiral staircase, but as we reached the railing, a thick, acrid smell hit my nose.

It wasn't smoke from a wood fire. It was chemical, sweet, and suffocating.

I looked down over the railing. Billowing clouds of thick, gray smoke were pouring out of the ventilation shafts on the first floor, rapidly filling the open space of the library. It was rising fast, cutting off our path to the stairs.

"The emergency exits!" I choked out, coughing as the first wave of smoke reached my lungs.

"They're locked from the outside!" Liam shouted, his grip tightening on my hand as he dragged me back toward the archives. "Julian... he locked us in."

The smoke was getting thicker, stinging my eyes and burning my throat. I clutched the red ledger to my chest, my vision beginning to blur as the air ran out. We were trapped in the dark, and the exit was gone.