Phei burst into the hallway at a full sprint—shirt hanging open, most buttons gone forever, chest heaving from the sudden shift from Patricia's desk to this chase. He caught only the tail end of blonde hair whipping around the corner toward the arts wing—a flash of cream cardigan vanishing like smoke, skirt fluttering high enough to show the backs of her thighs.
"Amber!"
His shout slammed off the lockers and died unanswered.
He ran harder.
Empty classrooms blurred past—chalk dust still floating in the stale air, desks lined up like silent witnesses. Another sharp turn—another glimpse: long legs flashing pale under the dim emergency lights, skirt riding up to expose the lace tops of her stockings, then gone again.
"Amber, wait—"
Nothing but the echo of his own voice and the slap of his shoes on tile.
