Page 97 of Hannah.

“You what?” she snaps, stepping closer. “Is there something you want to say to me, Hannah?”

“No.” I shake my head, pressing my back against the wall. “I’m sorry.”

“I'll bet you are.” She sneers and then takes a step back, smoothing her hand down her dress. “I have somewhere to be.”

Then she brushes past me, her body barely touching mine as she walks by, the clicking sound of her heels loud in the empty hallway.

I slump against the wall, oblivious to the other students around me, and put my head in my hands. My heart is racing, but it feels like my stomach is an open pit. Astrid...my friend. The first friend I made here on campus…hell, if I’m not counting Conrad and his obvious romantic interest in me, Astrid is myonlyfriend here, and it's all too clear that I’ve lost her. The worst part is that I don't even know why.

Well, Idoknow why. It’s one of two things—the stolen artifacts or her stolen lover. Ugh. Even thinking about Johan as Astrid's lover makes me feel sick. He's mine, dammit. I shouldn't have to keep proving it to myself of all people, but Astrid’scoldness and her perky little outfit have me worrying even more than before.

I’m devastated to lose her. But to lose Johan...that would be utter destruction.

When I get back to my dorm, I spend a few minutes deep breathing into my pillow, letting out all of the pent-up emotions and stress. It’s only late afternoon, but I find myself drifting off to sleep, mired in misery and exhaustion from my mind, constantly running, running, running.

I sleep for two hours, waking up in the evening long enough to order some Chinese takeout. With the takeout containers still on my bedside table, I check if Johan answered my text message, but there’s nothing. I fall back into a heavy slumber, my bed illuminated by the cool blue light of the screen.

Wednesday I’m up at 6:20 a.m., hours before my first class starts. The enormous amount of sleep has helped, and my mind is clearer now, although my stomach is still upset with nerves and worry. I’ve also come to a decision—I need answers, and I need themtoday.

First, I'll track down Johan and get things sorted out with him. Then, if everything is fine, I will seek Astrid out and talk to her. If she isn’t willing to forgive me, well, at least I'll have Johan and know that I tried.

But first, I need to clean up. Myself and my dorm.

The room is a mess, the trash bin overflowing with empty cartons and chopsticks, and the curtains are drawn closed, leaving the room dark and dingy. I throw things away, open the windows, and air the place out. Oh, I wish that were the biggest of my problems. I take a shower, standing under the spray asthe hot water pounds on my shoulders and neck, working at the knots and tension there. Then, I wash and condition my hair. When I’m finished, I step out of the shower feeling refreshed and renewed.

Despite it being early, I put on makeup—not a lot—just a bit of mascara, some concealer, blush, and lip gloss. My hair is still wet, and after a quick brush, I braid it, winding the wet strands into a French braid. I slip into a pair of black leggings and a crop top, then, after a split second, put on a pair of black boots.

Now it's time for class and the forced reunion with Johan I’ve been both looking forward to and dreading. But the sweet relief of finally knowing what the hell is going on is enough to tip me fully into anticipation. There is a spring in my step as I walk to the lecture hall where Johan teaches. When I get there, though, disappointment hits me like a punch in the stomach. The lights are off, the podium is empty, and a message on the board reads, “Class canceled. See you next Monday,” written in large letters.

“Can I help you?” someone asks from the doorway. It’s a guy, probably either faculty or a student. He’s carrying a stack of papers, his eyes glued to the pages, and he doesn’t even look up to see me.

“Professor Bentinck… where is he?” I ask, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.

The guy looks up, finally acknowledging my presence. “Class is canceled,” he says simply. “Professor Bentinck will be back Monday. I think he’s taking the day off.”

“Thank you,” I manage to say, turning away quickly before he can see the panic in my eyes. I scowl at the back of his head anyway before exiting the classroom.

Once the annoyance fades, though, I feel empty. The chill is now turning into the shakes, a trembling that runs from the inside of me outward, making it hard to walk. I’m scared. Terrified. Johan is missing, and Astrid is giving me the coldshoulder, which can only mean that she knows about us. I need to hunt down Conrad and see if he can shed any light on things. Having a plan helps me steady myself. Okay...I can do this. A quick glance at my phone tells me I still have around an hour before my next class, and I decide that the only thing that might help the yawning space inside of me is a hot caramel latte. With extra whipped cream. Large.

So that's exactly what I do. I take the long route to one of the campus cafés, walking briskly and savoring the rare November sun and the crisp, cool air. I breathe in the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the subtle fragrance of a few hardy flowers still lingering in the courtyard. If this is my last bit of freedom before my whole world caves in on itself, I’m going to enjoy it.

When I arrive at the café, the line is mercifully short. After a brief wait, I pick up my drink, the comforting warmth seeping through the cup into my hands. I head to a table by the window, the sun casting a gentle glow through the glass. Settling into the chair, I take a deep breath, savoring the rich aroma of the caramel latte before pulling out my phone. Sure enough, there is an email from the department about Johan’s class being rescheduled, but nothing about why or what’s going on. Below is the email I saw Monday morning. It was the first sign that something was wrong, the reason why there are now alarm bells sounding in my head. He canceled his class, and now, a few days later, he is still out. It’s so unlike him.

I sip my drink and let the steam rise into my face, inhaling the aroma and trying to calm myself down.

“Hannah!”

The coffee nearly slips from my grip, but a few drops hit my neck, making me hiss. I double up, holding the precious latte with both hands and glaring at whoever just tried to sabotage the one moment of peace I’ve managed to carve out for myself.

“Shit—oh, Hannah, are you okay?” Conrad is next to me, reaching out, but then stops himself. “Here, let me get you some napkins.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” I say, licking my lips. The coffee was hot but not boiling. Conrad returns a second later and presses a handful of paper napkins into my free hand.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay.” I dab at my neck and the back of my hand. “I’m a little jumpy.”

“Clearly,” he says and gives me a smile. “You sure you need that big of a coffee if that’s the case?”