Alister
One post reveals a bank statement with large, long-term transfers to offshore accounts. Another shows an email exchange with a government official about a bribed business deal. I scroll through all the leaked documents. The posts have received over 100,000 views and 500 comments in the last hour.
"Isn't this a good thing? Why do you seem so distraught?" Leora asks, walking beside me, raising a white brow.
As I burst through the wooden doors of a shabby restaurant, frantically searching for a familiar face, everyone turns to me with confusion and curiosity.
I walk out and redial the number, waiting for someone to pick up. The city is quieter at night, but the sounds of traffic and distant music still fills the air. My gaze falls upon a homeless person sitting by the trashcans in an alley. I squint at the blonde hair falling down from beneath the black cap, over the shoulder. My eyes drift towards the hands and the familiar cerulean nails. It's strange seeing her in green cargo jeans and a plain black T-shirt instead of one of her signature blue dresses or high heels that made her appear taller.
Leora lets out a mocking laugh. "Perfect example of how the mighty have fallen." Ignoring her once again, I move to the alley, towards the sorry-looking person.
"You look like a hobo. I guess that's a nice upgrade." I say as I stand infront of her.
Clara lifts her head, looking at me through fancy sunglasses, which seems out of place considering her whole homeless person look.
"And you look like you need a matching black eye." Her words slur just as they did when she called me, telling me where she is. Two green bottles sit beside her, one empty.
"For someone so bent on justice at the moment, you seem to have forgotten the legal drinking age in this country." I remark. She reaches for a bottle but gasps when I kick it away.
"Leave me alone." she mutters, burying her face in her knees. I resist the urge to argue that she's the one who called me. She clutches her arms, bracing herself for my lecture. I have so much to say—I thought I'd be asking, demanding to know why she did all that. But I suppose I forgot to add comfort to the list.
I settle down near her, but she scoots away from me without even a glance.
Now that just won't do.
I reach out, circling my arm around her waist and pulling her beside me. Relishing the deepening flush on her cheeks, I press her firmly against me and rest my head on hers, taking in the scent of her shampoo. "I'm sorry for making you for this." I force out the words I vowed never to say to anyone.
"Bold of you to assume my world revolves around you and what you say." She scoffs but doesn't pull away. "I was already near the edge. All you did was give a push."
"You look regretful." I comment, glancing over at the road, the ongoing cars, the oblivious people going on about their day.
"Well..." she begins as she lifts her head. "It feels like waking up from a dream. As soon as I uploaded everything, I could feel the adrenaline rush diminishing." She raises her hand, stroking invisible stars in the air. "And now I'm just...swimming in nothingness."
"Was that really the best course of action?" I ask calmly.
"And there it is." She smirks. "If that's your reaction to this, I wonder how dramatically you'd react if you knew I pointed a gun at my dad."
I jolt forward, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to face me. Her glasses fall off, and I stare into her bloodshot eyes, searching for answers. "What did you just say?" She must be joking, right? There's no way she could have actually pointed a gun at her father. No way she could have landed herself in even more trouble. But the look on her face suggests otherwise. If she did, then he knows who's responsible for this leaked information and will definitely be looking everywhere for her.
My grip on her shoulders tightens, and I shake her back and forth. "Did you confront him?" I ask. But instead of answering, she looks at me with a sleepy expression, like she's bored.
"I did." She says, and her eyes look away from mine and travel down. "And to put you at ease, I knew what I was doing and what's going to happen now."
My brow furrows, but before I can say anything, she leans forward. Her arms loop around my neck, face burrowing into the crook of mine. "So I'd rather we talk about something else now." Her hot breath on my skin sends sparks through my nerves.
I have always prided myself on order. On keeping the clutter of my mind in neat, airtight boxes—where emotion bows to reason. Compartmentalizing keeps me sharp. Lets me sift through chaos and pluck out what matters most.
But she manages to undo it all with a single touch.
My lecture for her slips away like sand. All my tidy boxes burst open, spilling chaos into my veins. And my hands hover, caught between pushing her away and giving in.
"Clara…" I rasp, hoping it sounds like a warning.
And then—a soft press of her lips against my throat makes me go rigid with shock. My pulse pounds like a drum against her mouth as she drags it up, tracing fire along the edge of my neck toward my jaw, betraying me before my mind can.
I take a deep breath before grabbing her wrists and gently pushing her away from me. Holding her at arm's length. "Get ahold of yourself!" My voice comes rougher than I mean it to. "Try to focus. You're in danger."
She looks at me with annoyance, before groaning and leaning back against the wall, causing me to do the same.
"What was your plan exactly? Go up to him, confront him about his misdeeds, tell him to play nice and turn himself in?" I ask, watching her twist her rose gold ring. Something I'm glad she didn't leave behind. "And if it doesn't work, run away, be homeless, and make them angrier by exposing them?"
Clara rolls her eyes. "It's like you don't know me at all." Resting her head on my shoulder, she continues before I can say anything. "Back when I was little, my dad came to see my ballet performance for the first time. My mother convinced him. Problem was... Jennifer."
I raise an eyebrow. "Jennifer?"
She stares down at our hands inches from each other. "She was the top student. I was second best. I knew my parents would see the difference. They watch everyone else to compare and judge me."
She pauses, her voice lower. "Then… glass shards were found in her shoe, and her foot was cut. She cried but refused to back out... I told her I was sorry years later, but she never forgave me. And I was fine with that."
I stay silent.
"My own performance was good, but that wasn't what made me win." she says with a smirk. "When Jennifer stumbled on stage, in pain, I ran to help her. The crowd ate it up. And then I gave her my trophy, praising her resilience."
I exhale slowly, seeing where this is going.
"Sometimes, to win a battle, you need to lose the fight. I was the star of the show. By giving away the trophy, I was seen as caring and generous. This act, more than the victory, is what everyone remembered. My parents were happy to be praised for raising such a kind and talented daughter."
She turns her head, her eyes meeting mine. "The point is to control the narrative of how things are perceived."
I get the full scope of her plan. Her disappearing and exposing the truth about her family's fraud—it doesn't make her look suspicious. It makes her look like a martyr. A whistleblower who got silenced. A daughter who dared to tell the truth and then vanished without a trace. People are going to talk. They're going to assume the worst. This isn't how I do things. With murder being an answer to everything. Clara seems more of a theatrical type.
A slow grin spreads across my face. "You're devious."
She dramatically rests her hand over her heart. "Coming from you, it's a compliment."
I hesitate before moving my hand closer to hers. She flinches, but as I begin to intertwine our fingers, she doesn't stop to do the same. We sit in silence for a moment, listening to the quiet hum of the city around us.
"My uncle." She breaks the silence. "Once he sees all this chaos, he's going to do everything in his power to prove all this is true and have my dad arrested. Infact, he's probably trying to do that right now as we speak." She explains with a sense of determination.
"You know..." I begin, already feeling awkward. "If you involved me in all your schemes, I could have helped you. And made it so that you get everything, instead of ending up with nothing." She scoffs, but I continue. "You could have had the entire company for yourself, and we could—"
"We?" She raises a brow and looks up at me with a smirk. "Someone's future planning. And to use me as a puppet, no less."
I roll my eyes. "You know that's not what I meant."
She shrugs. "How disappointing." Her expression then changes, and her eyes look out at the road, at a group of friends walking out of a salon. "I won't end up with nothing. You'll just have to wait for that part. I'll have everything and more. And second, the company is a sinking ship." She continues, massaging her temples as if trying to concentrate on her words. "It'll...probably go bankrupt. What's the point of hopping on it? I'd rather just sit back and watch my uncle try to save it all. He's greedy, but he's better than my dad. He's also a bit cowardly and would think twice before doing anything wrong. Plus, wouldn't you rather have someone at the top who's easier to control?"
I feel an annoying fluttering inside my stomach as her words feel like the sweetest melody. "You'll try to shoot him too if he does anything?" Her gaze falls to the ground, looking disappointed. And hurt.
"Despite everything, despite the hate, he was still my father. I wouldn't have shot him. Or mom for that matter." she utters, bringing her right thumbnail to her lips. "But both of them tried to shoot me."
I squeeze her hand. "Do you want me to kill them?"
Her head shifts slightly. "What?"
"Just say the word," I say calmly like I'm offering to carry her groceries. "We don't have to bother with your dramatic little plan. They'll be dead by midnight. Tell me if you want it to be quick or slow. I'm good at both." I reassure her.
She stares at me for a beat, then chuckles and shakes her head. "How chivalrous." Her lips twitch with dry amusement. "Alister, murder isn't the solution to everything."
I shrug, leaning back. "It is in my experience."
Although, to be fair, I do only get involved in situations that require spilling blood. Violence is never a last resort for me—it is the only resort. So yes. Killing comes easy. Easier than conversation or comfort. Easier than trying to figure out whatever it is she's doing to me when she looks at me.
I freeze the moment I feel her fingers move up and brush against my cheek, catching me off guard. "You know," she says, smiling like she's seeing something I can't. "You remind me of a stained glass window."
I glare at her for the ridiculous insult. Frustration bubbling inside me, enough to make me ignore her offensively soft touch.
"It's made up of so many pieces—different shapes, colors. Some are dark and fractured. Some are bright and warm." She says, and I have to remind myself that she's drunk. "Alone, they might not look like much, but when held together… they make something gorgeous. Something whole."
Then she slowly, and dissapointingly, pulls back. "Someone tried to convince you that you were just one shard—that to be strong, you had to cut away your softness, fear, and compassion. But there are so many pieces, Alister. I see the part of you that protects, that hesitates, that cares. When you let everything show, even for a moment, it creates something breathtaking."
If it were anyone else saying something so nonsensical, I would've stood up and walked away. But it's her saying it, and even though every word makes me want to cover my ears, I find myself still sitting, still listening to her.
Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I spot two white objects coming towards us. I sit up straighter and stare at it, while Clara does the same. Two paper planes are about to fly past us. I activate my ability, using it to stop them in mid-air and bring them towards us.
"Crystal." Clara mumbles as she takes the plane that's trying to shift to her.
Inside, is another list of street names that we have to avoid for tomorrow. Well, we won't be needing this since we're going to that retreat. But doesn't this mean Crystal doesn't know that and kept her word about not spying on us? I wouldn't have expected that from those people.
Clara starts writing down some curse words on her now unfolded plane.
"We should get going." I stand up, feeling my legs heavy and unresponsive, as if they've fallen asleep.
She hurls it back into the air and watches it fly off. "You know, I got something for you."
I glance down as she takes out two small black flash drives from her bag. "My conversation with my dad. Basically his confession to everything and me confronting him about it. The other one contains the documents." She says, waving them around.
That audio, if released, will be more damaging than any of the evidence made public. Yet she hasn't exposed it. Which can only mean she's going to use it as leverage to get something important.
"Why would I need that? I could simply listen to everything from the recorder in..." I trail off as her smirk widens.
Of course...she must have asked Lily to throw mine away so she could be the only one who has a recording. Impressive.
I sigh. "Why give it to me?"
She stares at them through a haze in her eyes, blinking them into focus. "I just want to see you rise. I'm going to give you the key to power. It might not be as grand, but it depends on how you use it."
"Flattery will get you nowhere. Tell me, what's the catch?" I lean against the wall, staring down at her with clear suspicion.
"A little deal, that's all." She smiles innocently.
This is so blatantly a trick. How is this any different from a dealer trying to sell drugs in a back alley. She clearly wants to get me involved into her little show. Accepting her suspicious deal will bind me to the outcomes of whatever goes wrong.
"Did I not tell you before?" I say, as the glow threads through my fingernails like living fire. With a subtle flick of my wrist, both flash drives shoot from her hand, gliding cleanly through the air before landing in my palm. "That if I wanted power," I finish, curling my fingers around them, "I'd just take it."
That earns me a scowl. "Rude. You didn't even listen to my deal." She whines.
"Please," I scoff. "I'd rather not get dragged into whatever reckless scheme you've cooked up. Knowing you, it'll blow up in your face by sunrise."
She smirks, unfazed. "Too bad you already took them. I was going to ask you to take me to dinner."
I blink, unable to process what she just said. Wait...she's suggesting we go to a public restaurant. If anyone recognizes her and sees her with me, I'll be involved in her show. It'll look like she was alive and kidnapped. "It seems you've forgotten that you're a runaway and are supposed to lay low. If you're hungry, I could get you something on the way, but I'm not taking you to any public places."
She stares at me. For a moment, just stares. Then she turns away—and starts laughing and shaking her head. "You're adorable."
I ignore her and Leora's laugh. "Get up. I'll take you to a hotel or something."
I can tell exactly what crossed her mind as her eyes go wide, and the blush on her cheeks deepens, blooming to a vivid red. Then, predictably, her lips twist into a smug, ridiculous grin. "Is this situation going where I think it's going?" she teases.
"No, I have better things to do than babysit you." I say, trying to sound nonchalant while mentally yelling at myself for sounding so misleading. I need to plan and pack for tomorrow's trip. And see how much of a mess her situation is right now.
I hold out my hand. She takes it, feigning a wounded look as she rises. But the moment she's upright, she wobbles. I instinctively wrap my arm around her waist, guiding her forward. She leans into me, relaxed, and loops her arm around my shoulders, holding on tight as we walk.
Suddenly, I feel Clara's body stiffen. Her eyes go round with alarm while her face turns pale. Without a word, she pushes away and dashes into a corner, doubling over and retching violently.
"Charming." I call out.
"Shut up." She coughs. "I blame you for this." She says for no reason, trying to get back at me, even in such a state.
"Of course. I'm the one who forced you to drink." I roll my eyes and walk over to her, holding back her tangled hair. I take the rubber band from my wrist and tie her hair into a ponytail.
My mind makes a mental note to grab some supplies and medicine on the way, along with a fresh set of clothes, other than the ones I saw in her bag.
And more handcuffs.