Page 19

Truth and Consequences

B etrayal has a peculiar scent—like copper and fear mixed with expensive cologne. I’ve been breathing it my entire life, choking on the toxic fumes of my parents’ ambitions. But now, with the USB drive pulsing against my skin like a second heartbeat, I finally have something they don’t: evidence.

The boys’ dormitory looms ahead, medieval and menacing against the twilight sky. Every shadow seems to watch me, every rustle of leaves a potential threat. The campus security cameras track my progress across the quad—innocent-looking devices that feed directly to my father’s private servers. I’ve learned the art of appearing casual while being hunted.

Erik’s door is the last barrier between me and the most dangerous conversation of my life. Three quick knocks, then silence. I count my heartbeats—one, two, three—until the door swings open, revealing his storm-gray eyes widening in surprise.

"Luna?"

A flood of emotion threatens to drown me. I want to hug him, kiss him, pull him into a shadowed corner, and promise that I'll never leave him.

Instead, I gently push him into his room and close the door behind us. Whatever I am going to show him isn't something anyone else on this campus should ever see.

"Hey, beautiful," he says, smiling. There's so much genuine affection in his eyes, and I hate myself for having to wipe that away.

"Erik, I need to talk to you," I say, my voice quivering.

"Okay."

My heart stutters. I should've left him alone earlier. It's my fault he's in danger. But after what I've discovered, I know it's too late for that. They've already targeted him.

I take a deep breath, relief and terror warring in my chest as I take in the sight of him. His uniform is rumpled, hair disheveled as if he's been running his hands through it repeatedly. Dark circles shadow his eyes, evidence of sleepless nights that match my own.

"I got invited to a party," he says without preamble, filling in the silence I managed to stretch. "Some fancy thing at a mansion on the mainland."

A paralytic dread, cold and visceral like mercury poisoning, floods my veins. "Erik?—"

"I wasn't going to go," he continues, pacing like a caged animal. "But then I started thinking—this could be the opportunity we need."

I stare at him, unable to process what I'm hearing. "What opportunity?"

He turns to face me, eyes bright with something that looks dangerously like hope. "To get out. To escape. The invitation says I can bring a guest." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an elegant cream envelope, the heavy paper embossed with a familiar crest. My family crest. "This is our chance, Luna. We can leave Shark Bay together."

The floor seems to tilt beneath my feet. I snatch the envelope from his hand, my pulse a desperate Morse code against my ribs as I examine it. It's real—the high-quality paper, the precise lettering, the gold seal. My father's signature scrawled at the bottom, the flourish of his pen like the elegant curve of a scorpion's tail, an elegant trap waiting to be sprung.

"Erik, you don't understand." My voice sounds distant, even to my own ears. "This isn't an opportunity. It's a death sentence."

His brow furrows. "What are you talking about?"

I sink onto his bed, exhaustion suddenly weighing on me like a physical force. "Sit down. There's something I need to tell you."

He hesitates, then takes a seat beside me, keeping a careful distance that breaks my heart. After our last interaction, I'm surprised he's talking to me at all, much less smiling and calling me beautiful.

"Do you know what my family does?" I ask softly, eyes fixed on the invitation clutched in my trembling hands.

"They're in finance, right? Your father runs some kind of investment firm?"

A bitter laugh escapes me. "That's the cover story. The pretty veneer that makes everything look legitimate." I take a deep breath, the weight of secrets pressing against my chest. "The truth is much uglier."

I force myself to meet his gaze, to watch his reaction as I tear down the last wall between us. "My parents host parties. Exclusive gatherings for the elite—CEOs, politicians, judges. People with power, money, influence. But these aren't normal social events." My voice catches. "They're opportunities for blackmail, for control."

Erik's expression remains neutral, but I see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clench into fists. "What kind of control?"

"The most effective kind. They compromise their guests, document everything, and then use the evidence to manipulate them. Business deals, judicial rulings, political favors—my parents have their hands in all of it." I look down at the invitation. "And this is how they recruit new victims."

Understanding dawns in his eyes. "That's why you pushed me away. You were trying to protect me."

I nod, throat tight. "They target people with connections, with something to offer. And once they have leverage over you, they never let go." My voice drops to a whisper. "I know, because they've been using me as bait since before I was even ten."

The room falls silent save for our breathing. I can feel him processing this, can almost see the pieces clicking into place behind his eyes. Understanding. Fear. Anger. Betrayal.

"The parties you mentioned during the storm," he says slowly. "The ones your father said were perfect timing…"

"They drugged me," I confirm, the words feeling like broken glass in my mouth. "Made me compliant, used me to entrap others. It's why I was sent away from my last school—I got too close to someone. I told him bits and pieces of the truth and tried to get away. My parents found out."

I pull out the USB drive, holding it up between us like an offering. "I hacked into my father's emails. They're planning to do the same to you. This invitation isn't a coincidence, Erik. It's a trap."

He takes the drive from my hand, turning it over as if it might provide answers. "Why me?"

"Because of your family. Your connections. Your father is a congressman, isn't he?"

Erik's face drains of color. "How did you know that?"

"It was in the emails. They want leverage over him, and you're their way in." I reach out, hesitantly covering his hand with mine. "But also because of me. Because we've been spending time together. They can't risk me forming attachments, breaking free from their control."

He's silent for a long moment, processing. When he finally speaks, his voice is steady. "Show me."

I take his laptop, inserting the drive with shaking hands. As the files load, I watch his face, searching for disgust, for rejection, for any sign that this is too much. But all I see is a growing anger, a determination that mirrors my own.

"These are my father's emails," I explain, opening the folder. "Every plan, every scheme, documented in meticulous detail."

Erik leans forward, scanning the screen as I pull up the most damning evidence. His expression darkens as he reads the correspondence about him, about me, about the network of influence my parents have built.

"Jesus, Luna," he whispers, eyes widening at a particularly explicit exchange about their plans for him. "This is organized crime. This is… this is beyond fucked up."

"I know." My voice comes out small, vulnerable. "This is the world I've been trying to escape."

He turns to me, and for a terrible moment, I think this is it—the moment he realizes I'm too damaged, too dangerous to be around. Instead, he takes my hand, his grip firm and grounding.

"We need to go to the authorities with this."

I shake my head. "You don't understand. My parents own half the police force in just about every state. They have judges and prosecutors in their pocket. If we go to the wrong person, we're dead."

"Then we find the right person." His determination is unwavering. "There has to be someone who can help us."

"Maybe." I bite my lip, thinking of Professor Austin, of the risk he took helping me. "But first, we need to get you somewhere safe. Once they realize I have these files, they'll come for both of us."

Erik's grip on my hand tightens. "I'm not leaving you behind."

"You don't have a choice. They're watching every move I make. If I try to leave Shark Bay without their permission, they'll know immediately."

"Then we make them think everything's going according to plan." He stands, pacing the small room as ideas form. "We accept the invitation, play along. Let them think I'm walking right into their trap."

I stare at him, fear gripping my heart. "That's suicide."

"Not if we're prepared. Not if we control the narrative." His eyes meet mine, fierce and determined. "You know how they operate. You know their weaknesses. We use that."

The certainty in his voice almost makes me believe it's possible. Almost. "It's too dangerous, Erik. You have no idea what they're capable of."

"Actually, I think I do." He gestures to the laptop, to the evidence of my parents' crimes. "And now I have proof. We both do."

He crouches in front of me, taking both my hands in his. "Luna, I know you're scared. I am, too. But this is our chance to end this—not just for us, but for everyone they've hurt. Everyone they're planning to hurt."

I want to argue, to protect him from this darkness that's consumed my life. But there's a part of me that's so tired of running, of hiding, of surviving instead of living.

"We'll need help," I admit reluctantly. "Someone outside their influence."

"My brother." The words come quickly, confidently. "David works for the DA's office in Boston. He's clean, incorruptible. If anyone can help us navigate this safely, it's him."

I consider this, turning the possibility over in my mind. "Can you trust him with this? With everything?"

"With my life." Erik's conviction is unshakable. "With your life."

The weight of his trust, his determination, breaks something loose inside me. For the first time since arriving at Shark Bay, I allow myself to consider the possibility of freedom—not just temporary escape, but true liberation from my parents' control.

"Okay," I whisper, the decision crystallizing. "But we do this my way. Carefully. One wrong move, and we lose everything."

Relief floods his features. "Your way. I promise."

I move to the window, checking for any signs of surveillance. The courtyard below is empty, and the other dorms are quiet in the late afternoon light. "We need somewhere private to talk, somewhere they won't be listening."

Erik thinks for a moment. "The cliffs. There's a spot on the south side, away from the usual hiking trails. No cameras, no people."

"Meet me there in an hour," I say, already calculating risks and contingencies. "Bring your phone but turn it off once you're outside. And, Erik…" I turn to face him, the gravity of our situation heavy between us. "If anything feels wrong, if you see anyone following you, don't go to the cliffs. Get off the island any way you can."

He nods, understanding the stakes. I get up to leave but hesitate and turn back to him.

"Why are you doing this?" I have to ask. "Why risk everything for me?"

He studies me for a long moment, those storm-gray eyes seeing straight through my defenses. "Because you're worth fighting for, Luna. Because what's happening to you is wrong. And because…" He hesitates, vulnerability flickering across his features. "Because I care about you. More than I should."

The admission hangs in the air between us, delicate and dangerous. I don't have the words to respond, my throat tight with emotions I've spent years burying.

"I'll see you at the cliffs," I say softly, slipping out the door.

Once alone in my room, I sink onto my bed, the reality of what we're planning crashing over me in waves. The idea of standing against my parents is simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating. For so long, I've been playing defense—reacting to their moves, trying to minimize damage. Now, for the first time, I'm taking the fight to them.

I gather what I'll need: the USB drive, of course, and copies I've hidden around my room. A small amount of cash I've been squirreling away. The burner phone I bought during my last trip to the mainland, which was never activated until now.

As I work, my mind keeps returning to Erik's words: You're worth fighting for. The simple assertion cuts through years of conditioning, of being told my only value lay in my usefulness to my parents' schemes. Like water eroding stone, his belief in me carves new pathways through the bedrock of my self-hatred. The idea that someone would risk everything for me, not for what I can provide but simply because I deserve better, is almost too much to comprehend.

I check the time—forty minutes until I need to leave for the cliffs. Enough time to take one more precaution. I pull out a notebook, writing down everything I know, everything I've discovered. Names, dates, methods. If something happens to me, to the digital evidence, this will ensure my parents can't simply bury the truth.

I seal the pages in an envelope, addressing it to Professor Austin with clear instructions: If something happens to me, send this to every news outlet in the country. It's a poor insurance policy, but it's better than nothing.

With minutes to spare, I make my final preparations. I change into dark clothes that won't stand out against the landscape, practical shoes for the potentially treacherous path to the cliffs. I consider the makeup on my vanity—my usual armor—but leave it behind. Where I'm going, who I'm meeting, I don't need masks anymore.

The hallway is clear as I slip out, the envelope tucked into a book I'll drop at Professor Austin's office on my way. The setting sun casts long shadows across the campus, the gothic architecture of Shark Bay looking more beautiful than menacing in the golden light. Funny how different things look when you're finally taking control.

I leave my phone in my room, turned off, SIM card snapped in half. They'll notice its absence soon enough, but by then, I hope to be well into our planning. The knowledge that I'm defying my parents, actively working against them, sends adrenaline coursing through my veins. It's terrifying, yes, but also strangely freeing.

As I cross the courtyard, I spot Belle emerging from the library, head bent over her phone. For a moment, I consider confronting her, demanding to know how long she's been feeding information to my parents. But that's a complication I can't afford right now. I duck behind a tree, waiting until she passes before continuing on my way.

Professor Austin's office is empty, the door locked. I slide the envelope under it, whispering a silent prayer that it never needs to be opened. Then I turn toward the path that will take me to the cliffs, to Erik, to whatever future we can carve out of this mess.

The trail grows steeper, rockier, as I move away from the main campus. The sound of waves crashing against the cliffs grows louder, drowning out my thoughts. Salt spray fills the air, tangling my hair and dampening my clothes. The physical exertion helps calm my racing mind, focusing me on the immediate goal: reach Erik, make a plan, survive.

I veer off the established path as directed, pushing through the underbrush that scratches at my arms and face. The terrain becomes more challenging, forcing me to use my hands to steady myself against rocks and tree trunks. But the difficulty is a good sign—it means others are less likely to follow, to discover our meeting place.

Finally, the trees thin out, revealing a small clearing at the edge of the cliff. Erik is already there, silhouetted against the setting sun, looking out over the vast expanse of ocean. The sight of him, solid and real, sends a rush of relief through me so intense it's almost painful.

He turns at the sound of my approach, tension visibly easing from his shoulders when he recognizes me. "You made it."

"No one followed me," I confirm, moving to stand beside him. The view from here is breathtaking—endless blue waters stretching to the horizon, waves breaking against jagged rocks far below, the sky painted in vibrant hues of orange and pink as the sun begins its descent.

"It's beautiful," I murmur, suddenly struck by the contrast between this natural splendor and the ugliness we're planning to confront.

"Yeah, it is." But when I glance over, he's not looking at the view. His eyes are on me, soft with an emotion I'm afraid to name.

I look away, my heartbeat an unsteady percussion beneath my sternum, each thud a countdown to whatever comes next. "We should get started. We don't have much time."

Erik nods, all business now. He pulls a small notepad from his pocket. "I've been thinking about how to approach this. We need to be strategic."

"Agreed." I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. "The first priority is ensuring your safety. You can't go to that party, Erik. No matter what."

"But if I don't?—"

"They'll find another way," I cut him off. "Trust me on this. The invitation was just one option. If that falls through, they'll move to Plan B, C, D—they've got the whole alphabet covered."

He considers this, frowning. "Then what do you suggest?"

"You need to leave Shark Bay. Today, if possible. Go somewhere they can't find you."

"And leave you here alone?" He shakes his head vehemently. "Absolutely not."

"I'll be fine," I insist, even knowing it's a lie. "They won't hurt me. I'm still valuable to them."

"No." His voice is firm, unyielding. "We're in this together, Luna. I'm not abandoning you."

I want to argue, to make him see reason, but the determination in his eyes tells me it would be futile. And a selfish part of me is relieved—the thought of facing my parents alone again is terrifying.

"Fine," I concede. "But we need a solid plan. Something they won't see coming."

We spend the next hour outlining possibilities, contingencies, and escape routes. Erik's strategic mind surprises me—he thinks of angles I missed, weak points in my parents' operation that could be exploited. Together, we craft something that might actually work. It's dangerous, with countless ways it could go wrong, but it's the best chance we have.

"So we're agreed," he summarizes as the light continues to fade. "I contact David tonight and send him copies of the evidence. You maintain normalcy and keep them thinking everything's on track. And then…"

"Then we make our move," I finish. The plan is set, and the wheels are in motion. There's no turning back now.

As darkness falls around us; the temperature drops. I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself. Erik notices, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders before I can protest.

"Thanks," I murmur, surprised by how comforting his lingering warmth feels.

We sit in silence for a moment, the gravity of our situation settling between us. The stars begin to appear overhead, pinpricks of light in the vast darkness. I find myself wishing we could stay here forever, suspended in this moment of potential, before the chaos that's sure to come.

"Luna," Erik says softly, breaking the silence. "If this works—when this works—what then?"

I turn to look at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"After we expose them, after it's over. What do you want?"

The question catches me off guard. For so long, my focus has been on survival, on getting through each day without breaking. The concept of a future beyond my parents' control is almost too vast to comprehend.

"I don't know," I admit, voice barely above a whisper. "I've never really let myself think about it."

Erik shifts closer, his shoulder brushing mine. "Maybe that's the first thing we do, then. When this is all over. We figure out what you want."

The simple kindness in his words, the gentle understanding, brings unexpected tears to my eyes. I blink them back, unwilling to show weakness even now.

"I should head back," I say instead, starting to rise. "We shouldn't be away too long. They might notice."

Erik stands with me, concern evident in his expression. "Will you be okay tonight? Should we come up with a signal in case something happens?"

I shake my head. "Too risky. Just focus on contacting your brother and securing the evidence. I'll meet you back here tomorrow night, same time."

He nods but hesitates as I turn to go. "Luna, wait."

I pause, looking back at him.

"I need you to know something." His voice is earnest, his eyes serious in the dim light. "Whatever happens, whatever we find out, whatever we have to do—I'm with you. All the way."

The declaration settles in my chest, a warm weight against the cold fear that's been my constant companion. His words glow like embers in the hollow spaces where trust was stripped away years ago. I don't trust myself to speak, so I simply nod, hoping he can read the gratitude in my eyes.

As I make my way back through the darkened woods, the plan we've crafted repeats in my mind like a mantra. It has to work. It's the only way out, not just for me, but for Erik, for anyone else my parents might target in the future.

The campus is quiet when I return, most students in their rooms or the library at this hour. I move quickly, staying in the shadows, avoiding the open areas where cameras might capture my movements. My heart thunders in my chest, every sound making me jump, certain that at any moment someone will step out of the darkness to stop me.

But I make it back to my dorm unchallenged. The room is exactly as I left it, with no signs of disturbance. Belle's side remains untouched, her bed still empty. I wonder briefly where she is, what reports she might be making to her family and to mine. Now more than ever, I'm glad she's been staying with her friends.

I hide the USB drive again, this time in a new location—a small slit I cut in my mattress, invisible unless you're looking for it. Then I retrieve my phone, turn it on, and place it on my nightstand where it would normally be.

As I prepare for bed, going through the motions of my nightly routine, a strange calm settles over me. For the first time since arriving at Shark Bay, I'm not just reacting to my parents' machinations. I have a plan, an ally, a fighting chance.

Tomorrow, everything changes. Tomorrow, we begin to dismantle the cage that's held me for so long.

I climb into bed, Erik's jacket still wrapped around my shoulders like armor. Despite the danger ahead, despite the countless ways our plan could fail, I fall asleep more quickly than I have in years.

For once, my dreams aren't haunted by parties or pills or the cold, calculating eyes of my parents. Instead, I dream of cliffs and open skies, of storm-gray eyes that see me—really see me—and of a future I might finally be brave enough to claim.