The council room's quiet was broken by the stressed shuffle of papers and muttered discussions. Avery stood through the glass, palms crossed, her mind far removed from the room. The shard in her chest pulsed weakly, mirroring the erratic cadence of her thoughts. A hurricane was brewing, and she had no choice but to call.
Lucas leaned against the table, eyeing her with his usual mix of fascination and concern. "You've been quiet," he said, breaking the uncomfortable pause. "That's hardly ever an amazing sign."
Avery turned to him, her face unreadable. "Do you ever feel that the floor you're standing on isn't as solid as it seems? Just as the foundation itself may crack at any time?"
Lucas smirked. "At Blackthorn?" "That is almost a given."
Her lips twitched, but the momentary attempt at amusement faded. Professor Russo entered the room before she should have, her movements quick and her face pale.
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