Chapter 94 Set Up to Frame
Third Person‘s POV
Three Hours Earlier – 12:47 AM
Jax moved through the darkened corridors of the Academy with the practiced silence of someone who'd spent years learning to be invisible. His suppression collar pulsed faintly in the darkness, but he'd learned to time his movements to its rhythm.
The medical wing's secure ward was in the basement level of the administration building, accessible through a service entrance that most students didn't even know existed.
Getting past the main security checkpoints had been easier than expected.
Too easy.
A small voice whispered in the back of his mind, but he pushed the doubt aside, focused on the task at hand.
Those children were scheduled to die in less than twenty-four hours.
He descended the stairs carefully, counting steps, his enhanced hearing straining for any sound of guards or security patrols.
Nothing.
The silence was absolute.
Too quiet, that voice whispered again. Where are the guards? Where's the security?
The corridor stretched ahead of him, empty and silent.
No guards at their posts.
No security personnel making rounds.
Just empty hallways and the distant hum of machinery.
The isolation cells were at the end of the corridor. Through the small observation windows, Jax could see the children lying on narrow beds, their small bodies still and quiet in the dim light.
The guard station beside the cells was occupied by a single figure slumped in a chair, head lolled back against the wall, breathing deep and even with sleep.
Jax froze, his wolf's alarm bells ringing louder.
A guard. Asleep at his post. During the night before a scheduled execution. With the keys to the cells hanging openly from his belt.
This wasn't just wrong. This was a trap.
But even as the realization crystallized, even as every instinct screamed at him to run, Jax couldn't make himself turn away.
Because what if it wasn't a trap? What if those children died tomorrow because he'd been too paranoid to act?
You know this is wrong, his wolf growled.
But Jax was already moving.
He approached the sleeping guard carefully. The man's breathing was too deep, too regular. The kind of sleep that came from sedatives rather than natural exhaustion.
The security camera mounted in the corner had a small red light that should have been blinking.
It was dark. Disabled.
TRAP.
But Jax's hands were already reaching for the keys on the guard's belt, his fingers working with practiced precision.
The keys came free with a soft jingle.
Jax froze, waiting for the guard to stir, for alarms to sound.
Nothing.
He moved to the first cell door and turned the key smoothly.
Inside, the little girl with tangled dark hair lay still. Her eyes fluttered open—clear now—and she stared up at him with confusion that slowly crystallized into recognition.
"You," she breathed. "You're the one they said was bad."
"I'm here to help," Jax whispered. "Can you walk?"
She nodded slowly.
Jax moved to the other two cells, rousing the boys with gentle words. They were groggy but mobile, their eyes clear and their minds their own again.
"Come on," Jax murmured, gathering them. "We need to move quickly and quietly."
Behind them, still slumped in his chair, the guard's eyes snapped open.
His breathing didn't change. His posture didn't shift.
But his hand moved with silent precision, pulling a phone from his pocket, thumb activating the camera.
One photo. Two. Three.
Crystal clear images of Jax Thorne leading three Rogue children down the corridor, keys clutched in his hand, cell doors standing open behind them.
Perfect evidence.
The guard's lips curved in a smile as he sent the photos to a contact labeled "STONE" and settled back into his false sleep.
---
Jax led the children through the service entrance and up the stairs, moving as quickly as their drugged states would allow.
The Academy grounds were dark and quiet as they emerged. Jax knew every inch of these grounds from his maintenance work. Including the old service path that led to a gap in the perimeter fence.
"This way," he murmured to the children, leading them toward the treeline that bordered the eastern edge of campus.
They moved in silence, the children following with trust, their small hands occasionally reaching out to grab his jacket when the shadows seemed too deep.
The service path was narrow and overgrown, winding through the trees toward the old groundskeeper's shed that sat right against the perimeter fence.
"Almost there," Jax whispered. "Do you remember what happened between you two?"
But as they walked through the dark forest path, one of the boys spoke up, his voice small and uncertain in the darkness.
"I... I don't remember much," he said. "Just... someone grabbed me. Big hands. Smelled wrong."
"Me too," the other boy added, his voice shaking. "I was walking home from the market and someone... someone just grabbed me from behind. Put something over my face. Then everything went dark."
The little girl's voice came next, tight with remembered fear. "I fought. When they tried to give me food, I knocked it away. Got scared. The man got angry."
Jax slowed slightly, letting them talk, recognizing that they needed to process what had happened to them.
"He tried to grab me again," the girl continued, her small hand clutching tighter to Jax's jacket. "So I bit him. Hard. On his arm."
"Which arm?" Jax asked quietly, his tactical mind already cataloguing information that might be useful later.
"Left one. I saw it when he threw me away. There was a red mark. Like a birthmark. Shaped like... like a moon. A crescent moon."
Jax's steps faltered for just a moment. A identifying mark. Physical evidence.
"Then what happened?" he asked gently.
"They held me down," the girl whispered. "Fed me something. It tasted bitter. Everything went fuzzy after that."
"I heard them talking," the first boy said suddenly. "Before they drugged me. Two men. They said something about... about making us into weapons. They also said things about framing someone—pinning the blame on them. I didn't really understand."
‘So they were trying to frame me?’