Chapter 26 Chapter 26
Snitches don't just get stitches, they disappear.
Clara wasn’t speaking to her.
Trinity noticed it in the stiff set of Clara’s shoulders, in the clipped way she moved around the equipment, in the tight little frown she wore like someone had painted it onto her face. Clara’s silence wasn’t passive; it vibrated with tension, the kind that made the air press heavy against the walls.
Trinity tried to shrug it off for the first several minutes, but eventually she cracked, even her patience had limits.
She crossed the hall and stopped beside Clara, lowering her voice as chatter echoed around them.
“Clara, we need to talk.”
Clara didn’t turn. Didn’t slow down. She merely rearranged the neatly folded towels on the metal cart with quiet, mechanical precision.
Trinity’s brows drew together. “Seriously? You’re acting up now?”
Clara finally paused mid-fold and lifted her gaze slowly, deliberately.
“Acting up?” she repeated.
“Yeah,” Trinity said, folding her arms. “You’re giving me attitude for no reason.”
Clara let out a soft scoff. “For no reason? Trinity, you’ve become someone I don’t even understand anymore.”
That stung more than Trinity expected.
“I’ve become someone realistic,” she snapped back. “Someone who wants to stay alive. You should try it sometime instead of jumping into messes that aren’t your business.”
Clara’s eyes narrowed, a subtle hurt flickering through them before she looked away entirely. She grabbed the cart and wheeled it toward the opposite side of the hall without another word.
They worked in silence after that.
Not companionable silence, this one had weight, like a thick blanket suffocating the room. Even the laughing chatter of recruits around them couldn’t cut through the tension.
Caleb glanced between the two girls nervously and muttered something under his breath before distancing himself. Mina kept her head down entirely.
Clara didn’t speak again, not even when Trinity tried once to ask her to pass a stack of bowls. Clara simply walked to the far table herself.
Half an hour later, Clara’s phone vibrated.
She checked the screen and froze, Dad was calling
Her heart pinched, a sudden mix of hope, fear, and guilt washing over her. She hadn’t heard from him in days not unusual, but always unsettling. Slipping the phone quickly into her pocket, she stepped out of the noisy cafeteria, heading into the quiet hallway.
She was just about to accept the call when a hand shot out of nowhere, gripping her wrist and yanking her sideways.
Clara gasped as she was dragged into a small, dimly lit supply room. The door shut behind her with a dull thud.
“What the!” She almost screamed until she recognized the figure, Frank.
Her heart hammered. “Are you insane? Why would you drag me in here?”
He raised a finger to his lips, breathing hard as though he’d run. His eyes darted to the cracks under the door, checking for shadows.
Only when he felt safe did he speak.
“I heard about the reporter,” he whispered. “Truth Aylaree.”
Clara blinked. “How? You’re not even supposed to know”
“I listen,” he said sharply. “And you need to listen too. She’s right. Something’s wrong with this place. Really wrong.”
Clara stiffened.
" The guards. Their blank stares. Their automatic movements. The quiet way they circulated the hallways."
She’d noticed the same things but pushed them aside. Because what could she do?
“What do you mean wrong?” she whispered.
The inmate stepped closer, lowering his voice even more. “Have you really looked at the guards? They move like they’re… disconnected. Not present. Like they’re following orders they didn’t agree to.”
Clara swallowed. She hated how her chest tightened, how his words made too much sense.
“And there’s something else,” he said, brushing a shaky hand through his hair. “I don’t know why I’m here.”
“What?”
“I don’t know why I’m in this penitentiary.” His voice cracked slightly. “No trial. No charges read out to me. One moment I was being taken in for questioning, the next I’m here. No paperwork. No explanation.”
A cold ripple traveled down Clara’s spine.
“What do you mean there was no....”
The door slammed open and clara jumped.
Hale stood in the doorway.
Everything in him, the rigid posture, the clenched jaw, the burning intensity in his eyes looked like a fuse had been lit inside him.
Before she could speak, he crossed the room, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her toward him.
“H....Hale...wait!” Clara choked out, stumbling after him.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t even look at her.
His grip wasn’t painful, but it was unyielding. Purposeful. Final.
The inmate behind them didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. Clara swallowed a shaky breath as she was pulled into the hallway.
“Hale...stop,” she pleaded. “What are you doing?”
No reply
He dragged her deeper into the corridor, turning down a path she knew far too well.
Her pulse quickened.
No.
No, no, no...
“Hale, please,” she tried again, breathless. “Let’s just talk in the hallway.. pl..please, not in your cell.”
He didn’t slow.
He pushed the door open and guided her inside. not roughly, not violently, but with a silent determination that frightened her more than shouting ever could.
Clara stumbled into the room, turning instantly, panic rising in her throat.
“Hale...just wait, please..!”
Click.
He locked the door.
For a moment, all Clara heard was the blood rushing in her ears.
The cell felt smaller than before. Too small.
Hale stood with his back to the door, breathing slow, controlled. That was worse than anger. Controlled meant dangerous.
But his eyes, his eyes weren’t just furious.
They were hurt.
Wounded.
Betrayed.
And that terrified her in a different way.
When he finally spoke, his voice was calm.
Too calm.
“Why,” he said, stepping toward her, “did you spy on me?”
Clara inhaled sharply. “What? Hale, I didn’t...”
He took another step, gaze unblinking.
“And why,” he continued, voice low and raw, “did you report me to Rome?”
Clara’s mouth fell open but nothing came out.
Her throat dried instantly.
Her pulse stuttered.
She couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t think.
She could only stare at him, the fury in his posture, the pain in his eyes and she had no idea what answer he expected. For a moment she contemplated bolting for the door cause by the next, she might be dead.
"I'm asking you Clara" He yells, his calm gone in a blink
"I....I.... " She takes a step back reaching for her phone just in case....