CHAPTER FOUR
LUNA
Dinner had been deceptively perfect. A silken, glittering illusion wrapped in laughter and motherly warmth.
We’d lingered long past sunset, our meal unfolding on a terrace carved into the cliffs, the sky above melting into a thousand shades of bruised mauve.
Salt kissed the breeze, mingling with the scent of charred citrus and freshly grilled opakapaka.
My mother had spoken in bursts of giddy enthusiasm, every word a ribbon spun from dreams and promises.
I had smiled. I had laughed. I had pretended the weight in my chest wasn’t growing heavier by the minute.
By the time the stars began to blink into being I felt hollowed out.
Not from the flight, not even from the heat that clung to my skin like a second soul.
No, it was something else entirely. A slow, quiet unraveling.
The ache of transition. Of goodbyes not fully grieved and tomorrows that loomed sharp and unforgiving.
“I think I’m going to turn in,” I said softly, pushing back from the table, my voice thin and crumbling around the edges. “The flight… it really got to me.”
My mother’s gaze softened, and in it, I saw a flicker of guilt. Of apology. Of things left unsaid between us.
“Of course, sweetheart,” she said, her hand wrapping around mine with a familiar firmness. “Sleep well. Tomorrow’s a new start.”
I escaped before I could crumble.
Back in the suite, a palace of subtle luxury and artful shadows, I moved like a ghost. Stripping out of my clothes felt like shedding armor.
In the en-suite, the shower hissed to life, its rainfall stream cascading over me like a baptism I didn’t believe in.
Steam filled the room, thick and fragrant with jasmine and something sharper.
I stood there until my fingertips wrinkled, until the heat loosened the knot coiled deep in my spine.
Still, the tension didn’t leave.
Wrapped in a towel, I padded barefoot across polished teak floors, the grain cool and smooth beneath my soles.
The suite was too quiet. Too perfect. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the inky black sea, moonlight glittering across the waves like scattered diamonds.
Somewhere out there, the world went on, waves breaking, stars dying, people loving, hating, surviving.
I couldn’t feel any of it.
I pulled on soft cotton shorts and a threadbare T-shirt that smelled faintly of home, clean laundry, eucalyptus, and something almost forgotten.
My body sank into the vast king-sized bed, swallowed by white linen and feathered luxury.
It should’ve been heaven. Instead, it felt like a coffin, wide, cold, too silent.
I closed my eyes and waited for the oblivion of sleep.
But it never came.
Instead, my mind spun. A carousel of images blurred past. My mother’s smile at the arrivals gate, the way the ocean had glowed at sunset like liquid amber, the taste of mango on my tongue, the laughter of strangers echoing across the resort. Beautiful things. Safe things.
And then—
A mansion. Stark and stately, with too many rooms and not enough warmth. Palo Alto. My new school. Lockers and whispered stares. The careful way I would have to navigate the social hierarchy like it was a minefield. And worse… them.
Marcus and Riley. The strangers I was supposed to share a house with. All sharp edges and silences. Both of them carrying something dark behind their eyes. Something I couldn’t quite name, but instinctively knew to fear.
I blamed the messages for it. For the way fear bloomed inside me every time I thought of them.
Each warning had sunk its claws in deep, feeding the unease until it grew wild, twisting through everything I imagined about Marcus and Riley.
Without those words, maybe I would’ve walked into this new life with open eyes instead of seeing monsters in the dark.
Maybe I would’ve trusted what my mother saw in them.
A shiver traced my spine despite the warm sheets. I tossed, I turned. I fought the pillow into different shapes, none of them right. The lull of the ocean beyond the open lanai that was soothing hours ago now clawed at my nerves. A steady, ceaseless hush that felt like a warning.
I couldn’t breathe.
My legs kicked the covers away, a frustrated hiss slipping between my lips. I sat up, heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted out. The darkness pressed in, not heavy, but watchful. As if something waited just beyond the walls.
Enough.
The room was too quiet. Too still. Like it was holding its breath with me.
I couldn’t lie still any longer. I needed to move. To break the inertia. To run from thoughts that didn’t yet have names.
I slipped out of bed like a secret.
My feet found the cool kiss of the wooden floor, silent as shadows as I crept toward my suitcase.
I didn’t bother turning on the lights. Darkness suited me tonight, its hush, its weight, its promise to keep what needed to stay buried.
I found a thin cardigan by feel, the cotton worn soft by time, and pulled it over my T-shirt.
The fabric smelled faintly of lavender and home, though that word had lost its shape in my mouth lately.
My fingers curled around the door handle, hesitating only a moment before I turned it slowly, letting myself out into the hallway with the careful quiet of someone used to sneaking away from things that hurt.
Outside, the resort slept.
Muted lanterns cast halos of amber light along the winding paths, their glow barely cutting through the velvet dark.
The air wrapped around me like a whispered confession, warm, moist, and fragrant with jasmine and something rawer.
Wilder. The scent of untouched earth from the jungle just beyond the landscaped paradise.
Like the island still remembered it was a beast before it was tamed.
I walked.
Not with purpose. Not at first. My bare feet carried me forward, one step, then another, as if trying to outrun the chaos I hadn’t let myself feel.
The trail curved through gardens too perfect to be real.
Orchids bloomed in deliberate places. Palm fronds rustled with secrets in the wind.
Every corner of the resort was manicured within an inch of its soul.
Even nature here had been ordered to behave.
But not me.
Not my thoughts.
They pulsed beneath the surface, jagged and relentless. My future waited on the other side of tomorrow, coiled and ready to strike. New school. New home. A new family. One I hadn’t chosen. One I hadn’t wanted.
I passed by the pools. Still and glassy, they shimmered under the moonlight like silent lies.
Water without ripples. Beauty without truth.
The cabanas stood empty, their sheer curtains dancing in the breeze like ghosts.
And somehow, the silence that was soothing to most, only deepened the loneliness digging its claws into my chest.
I didn’t belong here.
Not on this island. Not in my mother’s curated fairytale. And definitely not in the house I would be walking into in a few days. A house that belonged to them.
The Maddox family.
The thought of their name made something cold slither down my spine.
I shook the thought away and followed the call of something ancient.
The sea.
I left the safety of the path, the carefully laid stone giving way to sand, cool and damp beneath my feet. Grains clung to my skin, a whisper of touch, grounding me in this place. In this moment.
The beach stretched out before me, endless and open. The waves rolled in slow and steady, a rhythmic breath that echoed deep in my bones. The moon hung low and broken, a silver crescent that bled its light across the water, turning the shoreline into a dreamscape of shadows and muted blues.
I walked to where the sea met the land.
Salt stung my lips, and the wind tugged gently at my cardigan. I stepped closer, letting the water reach me. First a tease, then a kiss, foam wrapping around my ankles like silk dipped in ice. I stood there, breath catching, as the ocean sighed its lullaby.
The world felt bigger here.
Wider. Wilder. And I, smaller. But not in the way that made me feel powerless. No. The vastness of it gave me perspective. Space to unravel.
The tension in my chest began to loosen. The tight coil of fear and uncertainty didn’t vanish but it softened. Became something I could hold, instead of something that held me.
I tilted my face to the sky and closed my eyes.
This… this was the kind of silence I craved. Not the hollow, echoing hush of a too-perfect room, but the kind filled with meaning. With life. With presence.
For the first time all day, I let myself breathe.
But even as the ocean welcomed me, some part of me remained on edge. Like I was being watched. Not by eyes, at least not any I could see, but by fate. By whatever cruel twist of it that had led me here.
To this island.
To this resort.
Then I heard it.
Not the ocean, not the wind, not even the rustle of the palms that bowed toward the shoreline like eavesdropping gods.
This was different.
A soft giggle, high, breathy, laced with something that made my skin prickle.
A heartbeat later, a low murmur answered, deep and slurred with the sticky rhythm of lust. The kind of sound that didn’t belong out here.
Not in the hush of the beach’s sacred solitude.
Not in the dreamscape of sand and tides and moonlight.
I stopped walking.
My breath caught as my ears strained. More laughter. Intimate now, drawn tight like a thread pulled between bodies. Then a sigh. No, not a sigh. A moan. Feminine. Breathless. Shuddering. I felt it like a ripple across my skin.
They were close.
Too close.