Chapter 21 Fractured Plans – Belle
“We’re leaving tonight.”
Max looks up from the tunnel maps spread across our bed, his dark eyes sharp with surprise. “What?”
“Tonight. Before dawn. We’re getting off this island.” I pace the small confines of our room, every muscle coiled tight. “The Harvest is tomorrow. Security has doubled. Selena knows something’s wrong. We’re out of time.”
“Belle, we can’t just run. Not without Erik. Not without knowing if he’s alive or—”
“Don’t.” The word comes out savage. “Don’t say it. We don’t know anything. But what we do know is that staying here gets us all killed or worse.”
Max stands, his hands finding my shoulders. His touch is warm, grounding, but it doesn’t stop the manic energy thrumming through my veins. “David said to wait. He’s coming with federal agents. We need backup.”
“David’s brother is missing. Possibly dead. Luna is falling apart. If we wait, Selena will move on us first.” I grab his shirt, pulling him closer. “You have the tunnel routes memorized. You’ve scouted the passages. We can make it to the north shore, and meet David’s team on the mainland.”
“And then what? Come back with authorities while The Harvest is happening?”
“Exactly.” My mind races through the logistics, the timing, the risks.
“We get off the island tonight. Regroup with David. Tomorrow, while Selena is focused on her network members arriving, on presenting her perfect show, the authorities raid. They catch everyone in one place. All the evidence Erik gathered, all the powerful people attending, all of it gets exposed at once.”
Max’s jaw works as he processes this. His fingers tighten on my shoulders. “That’s incredibly dangerous. For us and for any other students caught in the crossfire.”
“More dangerous than staying here waiting for Selena to decide we’re too much of a liability?” I step back, forcing him to release me so I can keep pacing. “She knows Erik broke into her office. She has to suspect we’re involved. We’re living on borrowed time.”
“Luna won’t leave without knowing what happened to Erik.”
“Luna doesn’t get a choice.” The words come out harsh.
Cold. Exactly the tone I used to use when I was my father’s enforcer instead of his victim.
“She’s too emotional right now to think clearly.
If we ask her opinion, she’ll refuse. So we don’t ask.
We tell her we’re leaving, and she comes with us. ”
Max crosses his arms, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. “You’ve already decided this. You’re not asking for my input. You’re informing me of the plan.”
“Yes.”
“That’s very controlling of you, Belle.”
“I learned from the best.” I stop pacing long enough to meet his gaze directly. “My entire childhood was about control. Being controlled. Learning to control others. I’m good at it. And right now, we need someone who can make the hard calls without drowning in sentiment.”
“Is that what you think Luna’s doing? Drowning in sentiment?”
“I think Luna is in love with Erik. I think she’s terrified he’s dead.
And I think that terror is making her incapable of seeing the bigger picture.
” I move closer to Max, lowering my voice.
“We need to survive. All of us. That means getting off this island before Selena decides we’re more trouble than we’re worth. ”
“And Erik?”
“If he’s alive, the raid will find him. If he’s not…” I can’t finish that sentence. Can’t voice what we’re all thinking. “Then at least his sacrifice won’t be wasted.”
Max’s expression hardens. “You’re talking about our friend. About the man Luna loves. He’s not just a chess piece you can sacrifice for strategy.”
“I know that.” My voice cracks slightly, the first sign that my control is slipping.
“I know, Max. But I also know that Erik would want us to survive. Would want us to use what he found to bring Selena down. Staying here, accomplishing nothing except getting us all killed, isn’t honor. It’s stupidity.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. Looking for the girl he fell for beneath the cold strategist I’m becoming. I’m not sure she’s still there.
“Okay,” he finally says. “We leave tonight. But we tell Luna and the others together. No ambushing them. They deserve to be part of this decision.”
“Fine. But the decision is already made. We’re leaving whether they agree or not.”
“Belle—”
“No.” I grab his face, forcing him to look at me. Really look at me. “I’m not losing you. I’m not losing myself. I’m not letting Selena win. So we’re leaving. Tonight. End of discussion.”
Something shifts in his expression. Not quite fear, but close. Recognition, maybe. Of who I’m becoming. What I’m capable of when pushed.
“You scare me sometimes,” he says quietly.
“Good. Maybe that means I can keep you alive.”
I kiss him hard, needing the contact. Needing to feel something other than the cold calculation taking over my thoughts. Max kisses back with equal desperation, his hands sliding into my hair.
We break apart, breathing hard. My body is already responding to his proximity, to the heat of him, to the way his muscles tense under my fingers.
“We should talk to Luna and the others,” he says, but his voice is rough. Wanting.
“Later.” I start unbuttoning his shirt. “Right now, I need this. Need you. Need to feel something real before we risk everything.”
“Belle…” But he’s not stopping me. His hands find my waist, pulling me closer.
“One more time,” I whisper against his mouth. “Before the world ends or we save it or whatever happens next. One more time, that’s just us.”
He surrenders with a groan, capturing my lips again. This kiss is different from before. Harder. More desperate. Tinged with the knowledge that tomorrow might be our last day alive.
I finish unbuttoning his shirt and shove it off his shoulders. My nails rake down his chest, leaving red lines in their wake. Max hisses but doesn’t pull away. If anything, he presses closer.
“You like that?” I ask, doing it again. Harder this time.
“Yes.” His hands find the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head in one smooth motion. “But two can play that game.”
His mouth finds my neck, teeth scraping hard enough to mark. I gasp, my head falling back to give him better access. His hands work my bra clasp, freeing my breasts. His thumbs brush over my nipples, teasing them to hard points before he pinches them roughly.
The sharp sensation makes me moan. Max’s mouth captures the sound, his tongue sliding against mine as his hands continue their assault on my sensitive flesh.
I grab his hair and yank his head back, forcing him to meet my eyes. “Rougher.”
Something dark flashes in his gaze. Understanding. Permission.
He spins me around, pressing me face-first against the wall beside our bed. His body pins mine, one hand wrapping around my throat from behind while the other works my jeans open.
“Like this?” His voice is rough in my ear, his breath hot against my skin.
“Yes.” The word comes out breathless. “Exactly like this.”
His hand tightens slightly on my throat. Not enough to cut off air, but enough to remind me he’s in control right now. The pressure sends a thrill through me, dangerous and intoxicating. His other hand shoves my jeans and underwear down my thighs in one impatient motion.
I’m already wet. Already desperate for him. The danger, the fear, the manic energy… it’s all transmuted into raw need.
Max’s fingers find me. They eagerly test my readiness. I whimper when he slides two inside, his thumb finding my clit with practiced ease.
“So wet for me,” he murmurs against my ear. “Even when you’re terrified. Especially when you’re terrified.”
“Stop talking and fuck me.”
He laughs darkly, withdrawing his fingers. I hear him unbuckle his belt, the rasp of his zipper. Then his cock is pressing against me from behind, thick and hard.
He doesn’t ease in. Doesn’t give me time to adjust. Just drives forward in one brutal thrust that makes me cry out.
“Quiet.” His hand covers my mouth. “Unless you want everyone to hear what we’re doing.”
I bite his palm in response, hard enough that he might bruise. He swears but doesn’t stop moving, setting a punishing rhythm that has me gasping against his hand.
This isn’t lovemaking. It’s not even sex in the traditional sense. It’s violence channeled into physicality. Pain and pleasure blurred until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
My nails scrabble against the wall, looking for purchase. Max releases my mouth to grab my hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. Good. I want the marks. Want proof that this happened. That we existed together in this moment.
“Harder,” I demand, my voice ragged.
He obliges, each thrust driving me into the wall. The angle hits something inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyes. I’m close already, wound so tight from stress and fear that it won’t take much.
His hand slides around to my throat again, applying just enough pressure to make me lightheaded. The combination of sensation overwhelms me. His cock filling me. His hand controlling my breath. The rough fabric of the wall against my cheek.
“Touch yourself,” Max orders, his voice strained. “Make yourself come on my cock.”
My hand slides between my legs, finding my clit. The added stimulation is almost too much. I work myself in quick circles, matching his brutal pace.
“That’s it.” His grip on my throat tightens fractionally. “Let me feel you come apart.”
The orgasm hits like a lightning strike. My whole body goes rigid, inner walls clamping down on him. I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood. It’s a failed attempt to keep quiet as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me.
Max follows seconds later, his rhythm stuttering. He buries himself deep with a choked groan. His cock pulses inside me as he finds his release.
We stay like that for a long moment, both breathing hard, sweat-slicked and trembling. His forehead rests against my shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps that match my own.