Chapter 99: Old Wounds
Alicarde arrived at the campus's grand library, its gothic architecture looming above like a forgotten cathedral.
The sleek black car he drove remained idling, its engine softly purring as he raced towards the entrance. A young man stood near the doors, pale-faced, his eyes wide with panic.
His curly auburn hair was disheveled, as if he'd been tugging at it in a desperate attempt to make sense of something horrifying.
"Mark… Where is Anne?" Alicarde demanded, his voice carrying a tone of unease that wasn't typical for him.
Mark swallowed hard, visibly shaken. His trembling hands reflected the turmoil in his eyes as he tried to piece together his words.
"We were just leaving the library when a black van pulled up. They… they grabbed her. I tried to stop them, but one of them—" he gestured toward the nearby bench, now nothing but a pile of blackened ash, "—did that."