Page 28 of Fated for Flames

Evelyn

After a well-deserved shower, I dressed in comfortable clothes—soft leggings, an oversized shirt, and a warm overcoat. Despite the long day, I wasn’t ready to face the queue for dinner and retreat to my quarters.

I had to put my plan in motion as soon as possible.

Armed with a couple of hairpins, my backpack, and my phone, I marched out of my bedroom with a mission to accomplish.

The sun had set, and the students were either eating dinner or walking around the campus without a care in the world.

The classrooms were closed for the day and the library would be the only place that was open until midnight. Hopefully, most of the professors were already gone for the day or in the teachers’ lounge, doing whatever they do when they don’t have classes.

The teacher’s offices were far from the classrooms, in another ward of the main academy building. As I entered the empty hall, I looked around for anyone else.

It wasn’t strange for students to go there at late hours to have reunions with some professors. Especially if they had questions about assignments. I was very familiar with the layout as I had been a teacher’s pet for as long as I could remember.

I tread carefully, nevertheless, my footsteps echoing in the cavernous corridors as I moved swiftly.

After walking down a long corridor, I arrived at Miss Clarissa’s office.

To make sure she wasn’t there, I knocked a few times and put my ear to the door. Nothing. No noise. Like I expected, the evil witch was absent.

The plan was simple: hide one-third of the siphoning book in her office.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my hairpins. In theory, they could be used to pick locks. At least, that was what I’d seen in movies.

Biting my lower lip, I inserted one of the hairpins into the lock and began to fiddle with it. It was harder than it looked; my fingers were clumsy, and the hairpin seemed too flimsy to maneuver the internal mechanism of the lock.

Minutes ticked by as I fumbled with the lock. Every small sound seemed amplified in the silent hallway.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath when one of my hairpins broke.

I tried again with the others, but no matter how much I jiggled and twisted it, the lock wouldn’t budge.

“Come on,” I urged under my breath, a desperate plea to the unyielding lock.

After thirty minutes of fruitless effort, I had to admit defeat. My hairpins were bent beyond recognition, and I was no closer to getting the door open.

I let out a frustrated sigh, my shoulders sagging as I slid down the wall to sit on the hardwood floor. I’d have to come up with a new plan, and fast.

So I called Chad.

* * *

Minutes later, I heard him from a mile away. His voice echoed down the dimly lit hallway.

Shit, maybe this was a bad idea.The guy couldn’t shut up; how was he going to keep quiet?

Chad’s laugh was warm and infectious, and he wasn’t alone.

As they rounded the corner, I caught sight of another figure beside him, a shifter I didn’t recognize.

“Breaking and entering, little witch?” Chad teased, his light-brown wavy hair catching the moonlight streaming in from the tall windows.

As he came closer, I noticed the grin stretched across his face as if this were just another one of our training sessions and not a covert operation. Well, it was covert in my head. Probably a regular Wednesday night for him.

“I’m impressed,” he said, stopping in front of me.

I frowned at him and looked at the stranger beside him. He was tall and slim. Before I could make more of him, Chad did the introductions.

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