CONNOR POV
We parked on campus with two hours to spare, which should have felt like a luxury but didn’t, because time stretches in the worst possible way when you’re waiting to cut the head off something that’s been rotting for decades.
The vans slid into a service parking lot tucked behind one of the older university buildings, its stone façade blackened by age, soot, and a century of pretending nothing ugly had ever happened inside those walls. Ivy crawled up the structure in thick, invasive veins, clinging to the stone like it was trying to smother something underneath. The place felt wrong the second I cut the engine, the kind of wrong that settles low in your gut and doesn’t care if you have proof yet. No visible security. No cameras angled our way. Either gross negligence or delibe
