After finishing Hidden Pulse, I turned my attention to the next Wattpad installment in Darren Gilbert’s Journeys. As I reviewed my notes, I knew this needed to be a consequential moment for Darren. There are directions I must guide him toward and seeds that must be planted. Without proper preparation, those future arcs will fall flat. It has been some time since Randall last appeared, and he plays a critical role in Darren’s development.
The city never feels the same once students venture beyond the Academy’s protection. Rooftops press too closely together, especially near the heart of it. Alleys swallow stray footsteps, and even the stars seem distant behind the haze. In that narrow space between influence and obscurity, ambition breathes differently. It sharpens. It calculates. Sometimes it waits behind a closed door.
Randall’s office is deliberate, not grand. Ledgers are stacked with care. A glass is poured not out of courtesy, but as ceremony. Even the faint hum of a rune-etched trinket suggests that this is a room accustomed to conversations that must never travel beyond its walls. Nothing within it is accidental. Not the silence. Not the positioning. Not the invitation.
What begins as a simple meeting between friends grows heavier by degrees. Loyalty, reputation, and quiet power intersect in ways that cannot be undone. Choices are weighed with care, and the cost of stepping outside the Academy’s protection is tested. If you are ready to see how far ambition is willing to reach, and how carefully restraint can unravel, continue on to Wattpad for the full story.
Excerpt of Measured Discretion
Randall’s office overlooked a small alley in the city, where slate rooftops pressed together, forming a jagged field. Smoke wafted over the roofs, shrouding the structures beyond the Academy’s protection. Darren clutched his cloak as the dim stars cut through the heavy miasma. He drew a steady breath and moved down the alleyway. When he turned the doorknob, he slipped inside and leaned against the door.
Darren loosened his cloak and bounded up the stairs, the city’s noise fading into nothing with each step. He reached for the knob when it pulled away. His gaze snapped up to his friend.
Randall thumped the doorframe as he gave Darren a lopsided grin. “Thank you for making time to visit me this evening.”
Darren’s head swayed as he pushed Randall into his chamber. He closed the door and hung his cloak on the hook. He brushed past the waiting figure and dropped into an open seat. “What can I do for you, Randall?”
Wry laughter filled the office as Randall walked behind his desk, claiming his chair. “Can’t I request a visit from an old friend?”
“Not since you’re sporting the smile you wore during our dinner at the Pavillion.”
Randall’s grin widened as he removed something from his jacket. He moved several stacks of ledgers aside to clear space. He laid a single sheet, folded up and sealed with dark wax.
Darren tapped his chin as his gaze shifted from the missive to his friend’s eager eyes. “I’ll assume this isn’t about a request for dinner to impress Mara.”
Randall cocked his head, tapping the darkened wax bearing an ornate seal. “To the contrary, this meeting only has a loose connection to that meal.”
“Did you get the results you were hoping for?” Darren reached out and traced the design engraved in wax. He looked up at Randall, measuring him as if weighing his resolve. “Is this from her family?”
“No,” Randall said, easing his friend’s hands away from the note. “Meaningful strides have been taken in forging that alliance. However, her father wants me to prove that I can provide for his daughter.”
“Makes sense.” Darren rubbed his face before leaning forward, a finger driving toward Randall’s chest. “But what does that have to do with me? Lia said she’d met with them in order to smooth out any problems. Didn’t it work?”
“It did.” Randall tapped the sealed note. “Doesn’t change the need to prove myself to them.”
Darren leaned back into his chair as an eyebrow arched. “Then why request this meeting in such secrecy?”
Randall rose and crossed to a small side table, pouring two glasses of amber liquid from a crystal decanter. He clinked the glasses and returned to lean against his desk as he handed one to Darren. “Because I need your help. And not the sort of favor I can ask over a friendly meal, no matter how luxurious.”
Darren took the glass and held it near his face, letting the floral scent drift upward, teasing him. He lowered his gaze and studied the contents. “You’re aware of the Council’s zeal for rooting out traitors.”
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