Chapter 45 BLACKOUT.
Asher's POV:
“Alright, class,” I said, closing my gradebook with a soft thud. “I’m sure you’re all done by now. Each row - pass your project files to the first person. They’ll bring them to me.”
Silence.
Not the usual end-of-class rustling.
Not the shuffle of books, chairs, or irritated sighs.
Just… stillness.
The students didn’t move. At all.
They only exchanged wide-eyed glances, whispering behind their palms like they were collectively confused by something only they understood.
My jaw tightened.
What’s wrong with all of them?
Why were they just staring?
Why wasn’t anyone doing what I said?
My irritation spiked faster than I expected, dropping my voice into a low, sharp rumble.
“Did I not make myself clear?” I asked, eyes narrowing.
Still nothing.
Heat flickered through my chest - annoyance, confusion.
I slammed my fist on the desk.
The crack echoed through the room like a gunshot.
“I said hand over your files. Now.”
Every student in the hall flinched violently, shoulders jerking, whispers dying instantly.
A boy in the second row - small, shaky voice, glasses slipping down his nose—lifted a trembling hand.
“U-Um, sir… actually—”
“Speak up,” I snapped.
He swallowed so hard I heard it from across the room.
“…we already submitted our project reports.”
I stilled.
My spine straightened slowly, my brows knitting into a tight frown.
What is he talking about?
“I beg your pardon?” I said, my tone cutting. “Submitted what? I clearly stated I’d be coming for them myself. Didn’t I?”
“Yes, sir,” he rushed out, nodding quickly.
“That’s correct. But Miss Bennett came earlier. About twenty minutes ago. She said you told her to bring the files to you.”
My face dropped.
Everything inside me went cold for one terrifying heartbeat.
“…Clara?” The word slipped out softer than intended.
How?
When did I tell her to do anything?
I hadn’t spoken to her since she’d asked me to keep my distance - hell, I had been forcing myself to respect that boundary even though it felt like pulling out my own rib.
So how—
What conversation is he talking about?
My pulse kicked up.
A pressure tightened in my chest.
I stared at the student, fully lost now, my voice lower - confused, but edged with danger.
“And you’re certain she said I sent her?”
“Yes, sir,” he whispered. “She even said she was taking them to the warehouse… like you instructed.”
The room tilted for a second.
Warehouse.
The word slammed into me like a blow.
What was she doing there?
And why would she think I—of all people—sent her to a restricted industrial zone?
I swept my gaze across the room, my pulse thudding painfully against my ribs. That was when the next thing hit me:
Her seat.
Empty.
Completely empty.
She had been here this morning.
Slowly, I lifted my eyes back to the boy—the one still trembling like a leaf.
“Which warehouse did she say I sent her to?” I asked, voice low but sharpened to a point.
His face went blank. He blinked at me, panicked, clearly clueless.
He didn’t know.
None of them knew.
A wall of heat shot up my spine.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The words ripped under my breath. Then, louder—fiercer— “How could all of you let her go there?”
Every student jerked like I’d struck the air itself.
“That place is restricted,” I barked. “You all know that. It’s not safe. And still—you let her go. Alone.”
I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears now.
“What if she walked into the wrong building thinking I sent her? Are you all not aware there’s active construction going on? Heavy equipment, open pits, unstable flooring—”
Their mouths fell open in slow, horrified unison.
The boy whispered, voice shaking, “B-But sir… we thought—”
“Don’t.”
I lifted a hand sharply, and he fell silent instantly.
My patience snapped clean in half.
I didn’t waste another breath.
I snatched my phone off the desk, shoved it into my pocket, and turned towards the door.
My chair screeched back.
The class stayed frozen, watching me with wide, frightened eyes - but I didn’t care.
Not now. Not with adrenaline clawing up my throat.
I shoved the door open and sprinted into the hallway.
My voice was already shouting over the thud of my own footsteps—
“Oh God… Clara, what have you done?”
The words tore out of me before I could stop them.
My footsteps pounded against the pavement as I sprinted across the college grounds, lungs burning, heart clawing up my throat.
Anger, fear, and something I didn’t want to name churned inside me like a storm.
“How could you be so—” the words broke in my chest, “—so damn naïve?
“Why would you think I’d send you there?”
But even as I said it, something inside me twisted sharply.
Someone set her up.
Someone used my name.
My legs moved faster.
By the time I reached the first warehouse area, sweat dripped down my forehead. I wiped it off with the back of my hand, breath shaking.
Worst-case scenarios flashed through my mind—dark, ugly possibilities I refused to fully picture.
I grabbed the handle of the black wooden door and shouted, “Clara!”
My voice echoed back at me, swallowed by the dark.
Everything around me was pitch black.
The only light I had was the dim beam of my phone, already threatening to die. The battery icon blinked, mocking me.
If things were different…
If I had her number...
I could have called her.
Found her sooner.
Not be running around like a madman praying she wasn’t hurt.
“Clara!” I tried again, banging the door with the side of my fist.
Silence.
I spun around and scanned the other buildings - row after row of warehouse doors. All identical. All locked. All swallowing what little light I had left.
Which one was she in?
Which one had she walked into thinking I sent her?
Why didn’t anyone stop her?
I jogged toward another building. The lock was stiff, unmoving, as if welded shut.
I yanked again — nothing.
“Come on… come on—” My voice cracked with frustration.
I ran next to the construction zone, expecting to see workers, guards — anyone.
But the place was deserted. Equipment left running, lights on, machines humming in the distance with no humans in sight.
“This school’s policies are insane,” I muttered bitterly.
“Turn everything on and walk off? Really?”
I was about to run to the next warehouse when I heard something faint.
A sound.
A voice.
I froze.
At first, it blended into the mechanical rumble, almost unnoticeable. I started to turn away —
There it was again.
A strained, desperate voice from inside the building.
“Someone… please! Help me!”
My blood ran cold.
I knew that voice.
I would know it anywhere.
My entire body reacted before my mind did.
“CLARA!” I slammed both palms against the metal door, shouting as loud as I could.
“CLARA, I’M RIGHT HERE!”
I didn’t know if she could hear me - the machines inside were too loud - but I kept hitting the door.
My shoulder rammed against it, then my body weight, again and again.
“Hold on— I’m right here!” I yelled.
I drew in breath to scream her name again when something struck the back of my head.
Hard.
My vision jolted. A wave of dizziness crashed through me. I staggered; one hand flew up instinctively to the spot that burned with pain.
Warmth smeared against my palm.
I pulled my hand back and stared at it, blinking through the haze - realizing something was wrong, something wet, something that shouldn’t be there.
I winced sharply, the world tilting.
“What—?”
Before I could turn — another hit.
Harder.
My knees buckled. The ground rushed up to meet me. The lights in my vision fractured, doubling, blurring.
Somewhere - far away - I thought I still heard her voice.
Faint.
Strained.
Calling for help.
I tried to answer.
“C…Clara—”
But the word barely left my mouth before everything went dark.