Chapter 8 The First Probe – Luna #2
I risk a glance back. A woman in her forties steps out of Selena’s office—Asian features, dark hair, wearing professional attire that marks her as faculty. She’s carrying a tablet and looking troubled. This must be Dr. Moore, the counselor Selena just insisted I see.
The counselor who was just in Selena’s office, discussing something that made both of them tense.
I duck into the stairwell before either of them can notice me, taking the steps two at a time. My jacket can stay in Selena’s office. I’ll claim I forgot about it, that I’m too scattered to remember my own belongings.
By the time I burst out into the cool air, my mind is racing.
Selena shut down my request to leave the island immediately, barely even pretending to consider it.
She’s assigning me a counselor who reports directly to her.
And whatever they were discussing in that office, it involved keeping “them”—us? —here without raising suspicions.
Erik’s waiting outside the library, exactly where we agreed to meet. He takes one look at my face and straightens from his casual lean against the stone wall.
“What happened?”
“Not here.” I grab his hand, pulling him toward the path that leads to the cliffs. We need somewhere loud, somewhere the ocean’s roar will cover our voices. Somewhere Selena’s surveillance might have gaps.
We walk in silence, my hand gripping his too tightly. Other students pass us—a couple arguing about their upcoming presentation, a group planning someone’s birthday party. Normal. Everything is so goddamn normal while we’re trapped in a nightmare dressed as a sanctuary.
The cliff path is deserted when we reach it. The wind is fierce today, whipping my hair across my face, making my eyes water. Or maybe that’s not just the wind. I lead Erik to the spot where he and I used to meet in secret, back when I was still pretending I didn’t want anything real with him.
“She won’t let us leave,” I say without preamble, having to shout slightly over the wind. “I asked about going to the mainland for therapy appointments, and she shut it down immediately. Dressed it up nicely, made it sound like she was protecting me, but the answer was a hard no.”
Erik’s jaw tightens. “You tested her.”
“I had to know.” I pace along the cliff edge, not quite close enough to be dangerous but near enough that Erik tenses, ready to pull me back if needed. “We can’t just sit here playing perfect students while she watches our every move. We need to know what kind of leash we’re on.”
“And now we do. A short one.” He runs a hand through his blond hair, making it stand up at odd angles. “What else?”
“She’s assigning me a counselor. Dr. Moore. Made it sound mandatory, like it’s for my own good.” I stop pacing, facing him. “But I overheard them talking afterward. Dr. Moore was in Selena’s office for a while after our meeting. They were discussing keeping ‘them’ here without raising suspicions.”
“Them being us.”
“Has to be. Who else would they be worried about containing?” I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite my sweater. “Erik, we’re not guests here. We’re prisoners. Comfortable ones, well-fed ones, but prisoners nonetheless.”
He steps closer, blocking some of the wind. “Then we need to be smarter about how we probe. If Selena realizes we’re testing her limits—”
“She’ll tighten them. I know.” I look up at him, at those storm-gray eyes that somehow make me feel safer even when nothing is safe. “But we also can’t just accept this. Can’t just settle into being her perfect little captives.”
“No,” he agrees. “But we need to coordinate with Belle and Max. Whatever we do next, we do together.”
The thought of Belle makes my stomach twist. She’s been carrying this knowledge for days now, pretending everything is fine while Selena watches her like a particularly interesting specimen.
How has she not broken yet? How does she wake up every morning knowing that the woman who orchestrated Janet Wilson’s murder, who made Belle believe she was a killer, is serving her breakfast in the dining hall?
“There’s something else,” I say. “When I was leaving, I heard Victoria—Selena’s assistant—on the phone. She was confirming something for Thursday. ‘The usual location,’ she said.”
Erik’s expression sharpens. “Thursday. That’s—”
“Three days from now. Whatever Selena’s planning, whatever she needs Dr. Moore for, it’s happening Thursday.”
We stand there on the cliff’s edge, the wind howling around us, the ocean crashing against rocks far below. The same cliffs where Selena supposedly saved us. Where she killed Dominic to prove her loyalty, to make us trust her completely.
I think about my parents in prison, about how I testified against them, exposed their crimes, brought down their entire network. I thought that was the end of it. Thought I’d won, that justice had prevailed, that I could finally start healing.
But the Queens were just one head of the hydra. Cut it off, and two more grow back.
Selena Harpsons. The Architect. The woman who’s been playing this game longer than I’ve been alive, who’s perfected the art of appearing benevolent while orchestrating horrors behind closed doors.
“We need to warn Belle and Max,” I say finally. “About Thursday. About Dr. Moore. About all of it. It might not have anything to do with us, but in case it does, they need to keep their guard up.”
“How? Everything we do is monitored.”
“I don’t know yet. But we’ll figure something out.” I lean into him, letting his warmth chase away some of the chill. “We always do.”
His arms come around me, holding tight. “I love you,” he murmurs into my hair.
“I know.” I close my eyes, breathing in his scent of soap and coffee. “I love you too. Which is why we’re going to survive this—why we’re all going to survive this.”
“How can you be sure?”
I pull back enough to look at him. “Because Selena made a mistake. She brought us all here thinking she could control us, manipulate us, use us for whatever endgame she has planned. But she forgot something important.”
“What’s that?”
“We’re not the broken children our parents tried to make us.
We’re survivors. We’ve already brought down one criminal empire.
” I glance back toward the academy, toward the Gothic buildings where Selena sits in her office, probably watching camera feeds, planning her next move. “We can bring down another.”
Erik studies my face, then nods slowly. “Okay. So what’s our next move?”
“We keep doing what we’re doing. We gather information. Carefully. We find out exactly what game Selena’s playing.” I take his hand, lacing our fingers together. “And we make sure that when we finally make our move, it’s the last one we need to make.”
“No more running.”
“No more running,” I agree. “Next time, we end this. For good.”
We start back down the cliff path, two students returning from a romantic walk. Nothing suspicious. Nothing that would alert Selena’s watchers that we’re planning anything beyond our next essay deadline.
But inside, I’m already strategizing. Already thinking about how to get information from Dr. Moore without revealing what I know. How to communicate with Belle and Max without being overheard. How to find the blind spots in Selena’s surveillance network.
The Queens trained me well. They taught me how to manipulate, how to play the long game. They just never expected me to use those skills against people like them.
Selena Harpsons is about to learn the same lesson my parents did.
You can’t control someone who’s already learned to break their own chains.
And I’ve been breaking mine since the day I first walked onto this island.