Chapter 8: Running Into Trouble

Chapter 8: Running Into Trouble

Watching my cousin's back as she walked away toward her school gates, I stood by my scooter in a state of quiet confusion. What had happened between us that morning had left a deep, lingering impression on me. The feelings swelling in my chest were no longer just the simple, innocent affection of family. Having never actually been in love before, I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was—maybe it was just the fierce, protective possessiveness inherent to every guy.

With nothing else to do before the afternoon, I killed a few hours at a nearby internet café. It was nearly noon when I was getting ready to grab lunch and head home, but just then, my mother's voice came booming through my phone.

Mom told me to head straight over to Bellevue High to pick up Sierra. Apparently, Uncle Marcus and Aunt Sarah had to go out of town for a business trip for a few days, and they wanted Sierra to stay at our house again while they were away.

I was practically overjoyed the second the words left her mouth. Naturally, no one was more thrilled about Sierra moving back in than me. My mind even started wandering back to the chaotic, heart-pounding tension of this morning, wondering if we'd end up sharing that quiet living room again—though I knew deep down that lightning rarely struck twice.

With news like that, how could I possibly care about hanging out in a dusty internet café?

I hopped onto my beat-up motor scooter, kicked the engine to life, and zoomed toward Bellevue High. But by the time I pulled up to the main gate, classes had already let out for the afternoon. Afraid I might miss her in the crowd of departing students, I quickly pulled out my phone and dialed her number.

Although Bellevue High was a respected high school, its campus rules were considerably more relaxed than Aurelia Academy's strict zero-phone policy. Most students carried phones, and the faculty generally turned a blind eye as long as they weren't out during lectures.

Since Sierra had always been Bellevue's undisputed star student, Uncle Marcus and Aunt Sarah were equally laid-back with her.

However, the second the call connected, all I heard through the speaker was a jumble of chaotic, echoing noise. Sierra's voice came through in broken, frantic fragments, saying something had happened in her classroom. Before she could explain what was going on, the call abruptly cut out.

A surge of pure panic hit me like a physical blow.

I dumped my scooter by the curb and sprinted through the open front gates. Sierra was in Senior Homeroom 1—Bellevue's elite honor roll class—so almost every student on campus knew where her classroom was.

After grabbing a passing junior and figuring out the building layout, I bolted toward the main academic hall. A faculty monitor stationed at the entrance saw me—a complete outsider in a different school jacket—and shouted for me to stop.

"Hey! You! Stop right there!"

The hallway was packed with students, making it impossible for them to grab me immediately. I ducked around a row of lockers and kept running.

Disturbed by the sudden commotion, several other teachers on duty joined the chase. If two of their own students got into a scuffle, that was one thing; but if an aggressive outsider stormed the building and started trouble, the supervising faculty would face massive disciplinary action.

Shouting back and forth, two teachers stayed behind to block the entrance while three others sprinted up the stairs right behind me.

Sierra's classroom was on the third floor, at the far end of the eastern hall. The moment my feet hit the third-floor tiles, I sprinted straight for Senior Homeroom 1. A wall of muffled, aggressive shouting echoed from inside, accompanied by the faint, unmistakable sound of a girl crying.

I recognized that voice instantly. It was Sierra.

Her crying shattered my heart into a thousand pieces. A dark, blinding rage flared in my chest—a fury deeper than anything I had ever felt in my life.

I grabbed the door handle and shoved, but the heavy metal door was locked tight from the inside. Driven by sheer instinct, I raised my boot and slammed it twice against the steel frame.

BANG! BANG!

Because classes had already ended, the third-floor corridor was deathly quiet. The two heavy kicks against the metal door produced a deafening, thunderous crash that rattled the entire hallway.

The commotion inside instantly died down. The shouting stopped, and after a tense pause, the lock clicked, and the heavy door began to creak open.

Through the opening gap, I caught a glimpse of over a dozen senior students crowded together near the back of the room, boys and girls mixed together.

And right in the middle of them came the muffled sound of Sierra weeping.

Every drop of rationality left my brain. I took three quick steps back, gathered every ounce of strength into my legs, and launched myself forward.

BOOM!

The metal door exploded inward with a violence tenfold worse than my previous kicks.

The student who had been unlocking the door didn't even have time to react. The heavy steel door slammed flush into his chest, launching his entire body two meters backward before he crashed hard onto the linoleum floor.

The rest of the students inside recoiled in absolute terror. As they whipped their heads toward the entrance, sheer panic flooded their eyes.

By then, the chasing faculty monitors had finally reached the top of the stairs. Seeing me kick down a classroom door like a raving lunatic, they raised their batons and screamed at me to halt. But with Sierra's safety on the line, how could I possibly give a damn about a few angry teachers?

I didn't even glance at the guy groaning on the floor, nor did I care about the stunned silence gripping the room. With lethal fury written across my face, I stepped into the classroom like a demon out for blood.

Intimidated by the terrifying aura I brought with me, the crowd of students automatically scrambled backward, parting down the middle like the Red Sea to make a clear path.