Chapter 177 ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-SEVEN

Chapter 177 ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-SEVEN
Scarlett's POV

We stepped inside the house, and everyone immediately scattered to explore the place.

The interior was spacious, cozy, and surprisingly well-kept despite the dust settled over the furniture. The front door opened right into a large living room dominated by a stone fireplace, dusty leather couches, and high exposed wooden beams across the ceiling.

Off to the side was a wide hallway leading to several bedrooms, while the back led directly into an open dining area and kitchen. It smelled faintly of old wood, dried herbs, and lemon cleaner.,

"I would like my patients to find beds to lie down in immediately," the nurse announced firmly, setting her medical box down on the coffee table. "Preferably in the same room so I don't have to keep walking back and forth."

Instead of listening to her right away, Blue and Tanner slung their arms over each other's shoulders, walking further inside the building to check out the back rooms. They kept poking at their own bandaged wounds to test their mobility, much to the headache of the nurse, who kept raising her voice and scolding them like misbehaving children.

I smiled softly to myself as I watched them. I knew just how extremely happy Blue was to have Tanner back alive, and honestly, even I was relieved beyond words. Everyone in our small group seemed noticeably looser, lighter, and happier. Back at the institute, Bellamy had felt like one large, dark cloud hanging over all our heads, suffocating us. Out here, the air felt clean.

I walked over to where Orion was dusting off a sideboard in the living room. "Do you have other family members that might come here looking for you?"

Orion paused, looking up at me. "I do... but they are only distant relatives. Aunt, cousins... nobody who would think to check my grandmother's place."

"What about your parents?" I asked gently.

"They have more or less disowned me," Orion said, his voice flat as he picked up a rag. "We haven't been in contact for a long while."

I was taken aback by his blunt response, my brows pulling together. "Why?"

"Because they found out I had a boyfriend," Orion answered plainly, looking me straight in the eye.

I blinked, momentarily lost for words. I didn't even know what to do with a piece of information like that, or how to properly comfort someone whose life story was this sad. Then again, practically all of our lives were sad in one way or another.

Instead of searching for empty words, I simply reached out and took his hand in mine, giving it a firm, supportive squeeze. "Well, we can be a family until we all decide to go our separate ways."

Orion nodded softly, a faint smile touching his lips. "Thanks, Scarlett." He looked around the dusty room, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I think my grandma had an old radio around here somewhere. Or maybe even the cable TV my uncle bought for her years ago. I just don't know if they would still be here or working."

I followed him around as he began opening lower cabinets. "Okay, but why are you looking for it so eagerly?"

"To hear the news," Orion said, pulling out a couple of old books and setting them aside. "Bellamy couldn't possibly cover up an incident as big as what happened today. A fire, an entire facility breaking out... it's far too big."

"Good idea," I agreed.

I looked over my shoulder toward the back of the house, wondering where my friend had gotten to. "Let me know when you find it," I told Orion, turning around. "I'm going to look for Rachael."

I walked down the hall toward the back, really wanting to know what the outside world was saying about Bellamy and us, the escaped students. Were we listed as dangerous, wanted criminals now? I shuddered at the terrifying thought.

Blue wasn't really a registered student at the institute anyway—his father had just illegally dumped him inside Bellamy to watch over his business, so the police authorities technically had no formal business with him.

I, on the other hand, still had to eventually prove to the law that what happened the night of my stepfather's death was an accident and self-defense, not some calculated, frustrated retaliation.

I found Rachael standing in the kitchen, opening pantry doors and checking old canned goods.

I couldn't help but laugh softly. "Food always attracts you first."

Rachael turned around, holding a tin of peaches. "Hey, cooking isn't such a bad idea. I'm just taking stock of everything available to us down here and seeing what's still good to eat."

I stepped up and turned Rachael around to face me, so glad that the curvy goth friend I had made at Bellamy was standing here on the outside with me. I pulled her into a tight, warm hug.

Rachael was stiff at first, caught off guard by the sudden affection, but after a second, she relaxed and returned the hug tightly. I felt her shoulders tremble slightly, and when I pulled back, she sniffled softly.

"Crybaby," I teased softly with a grin.

"Maybe I am," Rachael said, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve, letting out a watery laugh. "But getting to have this group together, in place of my biological family... it feels like a total dream come true. I know it sounds super weird, but it's the truth."

"I understand," I said warmly. "So, what's the plan now?"

"With what?" Rachael asked, tilting her head.

"With Stan and you," I clarified. "Do you guys have anywhere specific you want to go after this?"

Rachael shrugged, resting her hands on her hips. "Honestly, I have no idea what's going on in that head of his, but we will definitely be staying here with the rest of you for now."

"Wonderful," I smiled. "So—"

Before I could finish my sentence, the loud, harsh sound of static suddenly filled the large house from the front living room. A second later, the noise was dialed down quickly.

"Orion must have found the radio," I said, turning my head toward the hallway. "I want to hear what the news is saying."

"Go on then," Rachael said, turning back to the pantry shelves with a small wave of her hand. "I shall remain here and finish organizing the kitchen."

I smiled and quickly returned to the living room where I had left Orion. He was crouching on the floor by a side table, fiddling with the dials of an old, dusty black transistor radio.

I walked over and crouched down on the floor right beside him. "Why did you get sent to Bellamy in the first place?"

I wanted to know if there was any one of us whose past crimes or records would make the police relentless in hunting us down.

Orion didn't stop turning the dial, but he answered calmly. "Honestly, I cannot even remember the full details."

"What?" I asked, surprised.

"I was driving very early one morning," Orion explained quietly. "An animal suddenly walked onto the road in front of my car, and I swerved hard to avoid it... then nothing. I can't remember a single thing after that hit. The next thing I knew, I woke up in a hospital bed, being told by my parents that my reckless driving had caused me to crash into another car and made someone paralyzed."

I shook my head slowly, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I'm so sorry, Orion."

"That's fine," Orion said with a quiet sigh. "I have long made my peace with it."

Suddenly, clear voices started breaking through the white noise of the radio speaker. The connection was still crackling and breaking up, but words were starting to form.

Stan walked into the living room from the bedroom hallway, folding his arms as he looked down at us. "What's up?"

"Just trying to fix the radio," I said, looking up at him.

"Is it really that hard?" Stan asked, his brow pulling down. "You two have been at it for minutes, and that static sound is getting really annoying."

Stan nudged Orion aside with his shoe, bent down, and did some quick, witchy adjustments to the back antenna and wire. Almost instantly, the static cleared up completely, leaving the audio loud and crisp.

The radio was currently playing a sports talk channel.

"Thank you," Orion said, looking up at Stan in mild surprise.

Stan just gave a sharp nod and leaned against the wall to listen. Orion began carefully shifting through the AM and FM channels, turning the knob past music and local advertisements.

Suddenly, as he turned to a local news station, they caught the tail end of an urgent news anchor's statement:

"...reports coming in regarding the catastrophic incidents at the Bellamy Institute..."

Both Orion and I froze, pausing the dial there, and exchanged a wide-eyed look.