Chapter 41 – Too Close
Sam's POV
I didn’t sleep a second.
I kept replaying the sound in my head—the faint scrape of metal, the slide of the drawer, the almost-silent breath of surprise.
Who was it?
Elias, creeping around while I pretended to sleep?
Declan, hunting for something to use against me?
Or one of the others, curious and nosy enough to snoop?
The not knowing was worse than the drawer being opened at all.
By the time the first light crept through the blinds, my body was shaking from exhaustion and nerves. I dragged myself out of bed, tried to move normal, act normal, while Elias stretched and rubbed his neck like he’d slept just fine.
“Rough night?” he asked, watching me too closely.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Didn’t sleep.”
He hummed low in his throat, like he was weighing something. Then, casual as anything, he said, “Strange. I thought I heard you moving around. By the desk.”
My blood ran cold. “I wasn’t.”
“Mm.” His gaze lingered. “Then maybe I dreamed it.”
I forced a laugh. “You probably did.”
But my voice cracked halfway through, and Elias’s lips twitched like he’d caught it.
By breakfast, my nerves were frayed raw.
Declan was already at the long table, tossing grapes into his mouth like he owned the world. When his eyes cut to me, I nearly dropped my tray.
“Morning, Hale,” he drawled. “Sleep well?”
I froze mid-step. Did he know? Did he open the drawer?
“Fine,” I managed. “You?”
His smirk was sharp. “Like a baby.”
Elias slid into the seat beside me before I could decide whether that meant anything. “Eat,” he said simply.
But I couldn’t. My stomach was too twisted. Every bite of food felt like sawdust.
And the whole time, I felt eyes on me. Declan’s. Elias’s. Mason’s, maybe, though he was too busy laughing with the others.
Someone knew.
And I was one breath away from being exposed.
After breakfast, Mason cornered me in the hallway, bouncing a ball off the wall like an overgrown child.
“So, Hale,” he said, his grin too wide. “What’s in the drawer?”
My chest seized. “What?”
“The one you guard like it’s got the crown jewels inside. Declan says you nearly took his head off last night.”
I forced a laugh, casual. “It’s just notebooks. I write stuff down sometimes.”
Mason tilted his head, studying me like I was some puzzle. “Yeah? You don’t look like the diary type.”
“I’m not. But whatever.” I pushed past him. “Why do you care?”
His voice followed me down the hall, sing-song and sharp: “Because secrets don’t last long in Dorm 9.”
I didn’t look back. If I had, I think my mask would’ve cracked right there.
By the time classes were over, I was crawling out of my skin.
I needed to check the drawer again. Make sure nothing was missing. Make sure whoever had snooped hadn’t taken anything.
When I got back to the room, Elias was at his desk, scrolling on his phone. He glanced up. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
I crouched quickly, pulling open the drawer.
Everything was still there. The binder. The wraps. The concealer. The hair trimmer. Untouched—or at least, put back neatly.
Relief hit me hard enough to make my knees weak.
But when I glanced up, Elias was watching me. Not casually. Not curious. Watching.
“What’s in there?” he asked softly.
I slammed the drawer shut. “I told you. Notebooks.”
“Right.” His voice was flat. “Notebooks.”
I swallowed, forcing a smirk. “Why? Want to read my terrible poetry?”
Elias leaned back in his chair, eyes dark. “One of these days, Hale, you’re going to have to stop lying to me.”
That night, the tension in the dorm was unbearable. I could feel it in the way Declan’s smirk lingered on me a second too long, in the way Mason kept tossing sly comments, in the way Elias’s silence pressed down heavier than words.
By lights out, I was ready to crawl out of my skin.
But it got worse.
Because as I shifted under the covers, trying to steady my breath, I heard Elias move.
He leaned closer, his voice a whisper in the dark. “If it was just notebooks… you wouldn’t look like you were about to shatter every time someone mentions that drawer.”
My throat tightened. “Go to sleep, Elias.”
He didn’t. His whisper came again, sharper. “What’s in there?”
I bit down hard on my lip. “I told you.”
“Then open it right now. Show me.”
My heart stopped.
“I’m not doing that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s private.”
The silence stretched, and I could feel his eyes on me even in the dark.
Then, quietly but with a certainty that stole the air from my lungs, he said, “Whoever you are… you’re not Sam Hale.”
My body locked tight.
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
But inside, panic was screaming, clawing, because he was right there, on the edge of the truth—
And one wrong word would send everything crashing down.