49. Chapter 49
Chapter 49
Dante
Six years ago. That was the last time I heard from my remaining family, the moment I realized that Harringday Industries’ secrets went far beyond just corruption.
Arkala, my home, was mostly a blip on the radar as far as the rest of the world was concerned. It was far enough from the nearest country that it hadn’t been developed like the Provinces. But it was a beautiful island, and a peaceful way to live. At least, that’s what my mom told me, back before the metals changed everything.
Back when Harringday was first founded, they had initially been successful due to the quickly growing economy between the Eastern and Western Provinces. But they only grew to the behemoth that they are today when they started producing electronics.
By pure accident, it was discovered that Criodian, a rare and extraordinarily powerful metal, was essential to the function of much of the technology we now rely on. And as fate would have it, our island held it in abundance.
From the beginning, both Harringday Industries and the Eastern Province screwed us over. Our own leaders didn’t help either - they sold us out, and soon Harringday had exclusive rights to Arkala and its precious metal, gaining a monopoly on our resources. Leonard Harringday, Celeste's great-grandfather, made sure that the Criodian mines were sequestered off from the main towns. Over time, that intentional move paid dividends.
Arkala itself was fairly isolated from the rest of the world, and tourism was non-existent. The wages were so low that it was difficult to ever make it off the island, but some people left out of necessity. That’s how my mom ended up getting us into the Eastern Province - looking for a better life, with more resources and opportunity. She passed before she ever saw just how successful I would become .
I’d known of the Harringday family my whole life. A corrupt business was no big news in the Eastern Province. But things only became personal when Celeste stepped into her role.
It started with a postcard from my cousin. “ Another storm is coming. Stay safe. ”
I knew that something was happening on the island, something he couldn’t write about. The mail was being watched, and my cousin knew it. At the time, my cousin, my aunt, and most of my extended family worked either in, or adjacent to the mines.
Working in the mines was dangerous. They were prone to accidents - collapses, gas leaks, equipment failures. But what happened there wasn’t just another accident. It was a cover-up.
I’d managed to scrounge up the money to visit, and found the island was drastically different than I remembered. There were checkpoints, security, and it seemed that the people I’d left hadn’t had much luck. The money wasn’t enough to make much of a life here, just as I suspected. When I met with my cousin and aunt, they smiled and pretended everything was alright. But when I was in their small home, they huddled in the bare living room, speaking in hushed tones as they told me what was really going on.
“A mine collapsed.” My cousin told me in hushed tones. My heart sank. I found out that the conditions were so bad that almost nothing was up to code. The workers were already risking their health, but on top of it, there were very few protections put in place.
He went on to tell me that after the accident, Harringday had denied their responsibility at first. By the time the people in town found out, they had to do the rescue efforts themselves, losing precious time. When they finally reached the pocket where the workers were trapped, some of them were already severely injured.
Everything started to boil over. The workers were planning a strike, and if that didn’t work, a revolt. There was even talk of taking over the mines, pushing out Harringday and regain ownership of the metal trade.
“We’re going to take over the mining operations ourselves, and free the island from Harringday’s control.” He told me in an excited voice, before my aunt shushed him.
“Stop! There are ears everywhere.” She said, and I was shocked at just how bad things were in the beautiful place I’d grown up.
“You need to get off the island before the strike, cousin. It’s not safe for you here. But I wanted to see you in case anything happened.” He told me, his arm around my shoulder. I shook my head.
“That won’t happen. They can’t hurt you!” I exclaimed in frustration. Harringday wouldn’t go that far - would they?
“They’ve already confiscated the worker’s phones, we have no way of making outside contact once we’re in the mining zone.”
I looked at my cousin, who was so much more like a brother to me. “We need to tell someone about this!” I said, my mind racing as I tried to think what authority in the Eastern Province would be willing to take on Harringday. Most government agencies were hobbled by the corrupt politicians that got paid off by the wealthy. Harringday had found out, and was sending their leadership to manage the crisis.
I stood there in shock. I knew things were bad, but this was even worse than I thought. “There’s no way to get the word out.” He’d said, his voice quiet and urgent. “They’ve confiscated everything. Our phones, any communication. They are blocking it. The Provinces don’t care about Arkala anyway. The few reporters we reached out to didn’t follow up.” He said, and my stomach sank. “They’ve tried to take anything that can be used as a weapon. They know what we’re planning.” The workers and the people from the town had nothing but their bare hands and the tools at their disposal.
“You have to tell the world. I’m not sure what will happen.”
I was scheduled to leave the island the next day, my visitor pass only good for less than a week. As I went through the check points, the guards looked at my phone and deleted any photos I had of the island. They were hiding any proof of wrongdoing.
I’d spent the next week reaching out to journalists to try to get someone to look into what was going on with the mine collapse, but with the remote nature of the island and the lockdown of communication, no one would take the story.
I waited for my cousin to contact me, but I heard nothing. Not until I saw a breaking news report that the new interim CEO of Harringday, daughter of the late CEO and protege set to take over the company, was visiting the island. The strike was finally making headlines. Harringday leadership had found out about the mine collapse that initiated the uproar, and was sending her to the island.
Celeste, and a few key members of the board, had come to fix things. At first, it seemed like a miracle. She’d removed the management that had delayed the rescue and vowed to implement new safety measures, increase wages, and replace all staff to ensure that it was a safe environment for everyone. There was a big show of announcing the changes, and the agreements went so well that she managed to get everyone to drop their strike and shake on it. From what the news said, it was like a dream, a new era of prosperity.
“Harringday Industries ushers in a new era of worker safety” the headlines read. There was even grainy footage of Celeste, young and freshly in charge, standing at a podium as she shook the hands of one of the miners.
At first, I felt immense relief. It seemed like Arkala would get the change they needed, and violence would be averted.
Then, that night, everything changed.
My phone rang several times in the middle of the night, and I reached for it, seeing a strange number. When I answered, it was my cousin. His call was frantic, pleading as it came through.
“They’re killing everyone, Dante! Everyone!” My body froze as I heard his words, my mind racing as I heard his words. “It’s a massacre! They are killing everyone who participated! She promised us things would change, but she lied!”
She.
I gripped the phone tighter . “Who?”
My cousin gasped, catching his breath before he finally spoke. " Celeste Harringday."
“What’s happening?” I cried, shouting into the phone and feeling helpless, stuck in the Eastern Province while my cousin begged for help.
“When everyone left - the media - they told us we’d pay for our uprising. It’s a massacre!” He said, and I felt my heart race as I wondered what I could do to save him.
“I ran out, they are throwing their bodies in the collapsed mine!” He said, “I’m hiding in the forest, I don’t know where to go. They aren’t letting anyone leave!” He said, his voice trembling. Suddenly, I heard him gasp through the line, his voice now far away and muffled as the phone dropped.
“Please, no! Don’t!” He begged, and then I heard the voice of a strange man, heartless and cruel.
“You should have known your place.” The man’s voice said, smug and calm as my blood turned to ice. I heard the muffled sounds, then the man spoke once more. “Courtesy of Celeste Harringday.”
A gunshot. My cousin moaning, then going silent.
*******
I arrived on the island a week too late. It was already over.
The authorities kept me at arm’s length - wouldn’t let me near the mines, wouldn’t let me set foot near the place my family had once called home. When I demanded answers, I was met with vague reassurances.
“They’re away at the moment,” they said.
But I knew. I knew what “away” meant.
They were gone. Just like so many others. An unspoken death toll buried under silence and red tape, denied by officials, erased from public knowledge. And I had no proof - no bodies, no names, no justice.
There was never a report. Just the whispers from those who still dared to speak: a mass burial in the mines, dozens buried alive. No rescue. No proper graves. Just rock, and silence, and the unspoken message carved into the dirt:
This is what happens when you go against Harringday.
Back then, I was a nobody. A low-tier alpha barely scraping by with a fresh pack and a shaky startup. We had no leverage, no money, no voice that carried beyond our own walls. And on that island, where Harringday’s reach ran deep and filthy, asking the wrong question was a good way to vanish without a trace. So I grieved quietly. I bit my tongue. I boarded the next transport home, my fists clenched and my soul shattered. And I started planning.
My pack was furious. Heartbroken. What happened forged our purpose with a new resolution - we would change things. And we would stop Harringday. We would tear Harringday apart at its core, piece by corrupt piece.
My cousin was murdered. My family, my people - all crushed beneath greed and silence. Those left behind were worse off than ever, their lives a cycle of exploitation and fear. And the woman responsible? She had moved on like it was just another business decision.
And now, six years later, she was in my house, oblivious to who I was, sleeping under my roof and trusting me. I clenched my fists, forcing my breath to stay even. I had spent years searching for the person who destroyed my world. And now she was right here, and I could finally get answers.
I would break into Harringday’s servers, tear through the firewalls, dig through every digital grave they tried to bury. Somewhere in those files, there would be answers. I didn’t know what I hoped to find. A confession. A coverup. A clue. Something that would finally tell me the truth.
That would finally tell me whether Celeste Harringday had blood on her hands… Or if she was just another pawn, like the rest of us. And once I knew the truth?
Then, and only then, would I decide what to do with her.