Navy's Sons: Bullied by Quadruplet Stepbrothers novel Chapter 20

y the time an hour passes after lunch, my patience is finally rewarded. The halls outside remain quiet, the usual shuffle of staff and muffled conversations nowhere in earshot. I keep my head down as I make my way toward the library.

Once inside the main library, I drift toward the reading lounge, pretending to leaf through a thick botany book. I wait several more minutes, eyes anxiously flicking toward the arched windows and the double doors to see if anyone else is entering. When it’s clear that no one is coming, I shut the book and quietly push it back onto the shelf.

I quietly head to the far side of the room, where the entrance to the restricted section looms in the corner, caged behind the familiar wrought iron bars and an old padlock. I reach into my skirt pocket and pull out a thin silver pin I slipped from my mother’s vanity this morning. My fingers tremble slightly as I kneel by the lock.

Please work. Please work. Please work.

The pin slips on the first few tries, and I have to wipe my sweaty palm against my thigh before trying again. Come on!

The minutes stretch long, each second thrumming in my chest. I glance over my shoulder more than once, nerves clawing at me at the thought of someone walking in.

Finally, the lock gives a soft clunk and loosens. I exhale in relief and pull it free. I slip inside the gated section and close the bars gently behind me.

As expected, the shelves here are covered in a thick layer of dust as if the space itself has not been invaded by anyone for the past years. I walk past a pile of ancient–looking books with languages I can hardly understand. Just what kind of collection do they have here? Some books have crumbling spines and others are so old their pages are nearly translucent. I don’t linger to admire them.

Without wasting any more time, I quickly scan titles that I can understand and may find helpful. My fingers trace along a few promising books like ritual studies, old magic, psychic links–I’m impressed by the things they keep here, but none of them contain the detail I need.

I need to find more.

I desperately scour through the whole place, careful not to break the dust that blankets the shelves, so no one will notice 2/5 that someone sneaked in here. Then, my eyes drift to a manuscript tucked behind a set of other old books. The title along the spine reads: Soul Tethers and Mate Imprints. My pulse skips as I pull it out and flip through the pages.

This must be it!

I’ve never snatched a book this fast in my life. I find a secluded corner of the study and lower myself to the floor, book in hand. I begin to skim through the book, never minding the dirty less–than ideal reading environment.

One passage details a cleansing ritual said to weaken bonds formed without consent. I read faster, eyes hungrily searching for specifics, anything actionable, when I hear the sound of footsteps behind me.

I sit there, stunned. My fingers still hover where the book had rested. What just happened? I am so close to uncovering a way to break the mate bond and it just slips out of my grasp just like that.

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