Chapter 2 Secrets have teeths

The nightmares came in flashes.

The blood on tile, whispers behind closed doors, the feeling of drowning while gasping for breath. Every night, they wrapped around me like vines, tightening with each passing hour. I'd wake up soaked in sweat, a scream caught in my throat, unsure if I was mourning my mother or foreseeing my own fate.

I tried to live a normal life, to attend classes and scroll mindlessly through social media like everyone else. But I was anything but normal. Not when every hallway held echoes. Not when every knock on the door made my spine go rigid.

Zaria was the only softness left in my world.

Her touch was like silk on raw wounds. She had a way of looking at me like I wasn't broken, like I wasn't drowning in secrets I couldn't tell her.

"You're too tense," she whispered one night, trailing kisses along my collarbone.

We were tangled in sheets, limbs pressed together under the veil of midnight. The hum of her breath against my skin was enough to make me forget, even if just for a while.

"Tell me what's bothering you," she said.

I shook my head. "Nothing."

Lies.

But I couldn't drag her into this mess. Not when I was still trying to piece it together.

Three days later, I saw something that shattered me.

I was walking down the street near the police station when I saw Luna-the detective I didn't trust-standing with Zaria. Their conversation was low, faces too close for comfort. Zaria's laugh rang out, and the sound of it pierced me.

Was I imagining things?

When I confronted her that night, I expected denial, maybe even anger. Instead, she said, "He was just asking questions about your mom. Said he needed some insight into the family."

"And you gave it to him?"

Her eyes hardened. "I didn't say anything that would hurt you. You're being paranoid, Skye."

Oh, I'm being paranoid now???

But I wasn't. I felt it in my bones.

The world was folding in on me. The people I trusted were threads unraveling one by one.

---

Later that week, I returned to my mother's old art studio.

It was still locked, untouched since her death-or her murder. I pried the door open and stepped into the dust-covered sanctuary of her creativity. Paintings lined the walls. Half-finished canvases. A sculpture of me when I was five, eyes wide and hopeful.

I ran my fingers over it and wept.

Beneath one of the floorboards, I found a leather-bound journal.

It was hers.

Each page held secrets.

Mentions of my stepfather's temper, of threats he made. Her fear was smeared between the lines like blood. One entry chilled me:

He said if I ever left, he'd find me. Said no one would believe me. I think he knows about the evidence.

What evidence?

Where was it?

I flipped through the remaining pages until one fell out-a photo.

It was of my mother... and Luna. Younger. Smiling. Familiar.

My breath hitched.

What the hell was going on?

---

That evening, I returned home to find Luna seated in our living room.

"Skye," he greeted, standing.

My hands trembled. I tucked the photo deep in my jacket pocket. "What are you doing here?"

"Routine check. Your stepfather invited me for dinner."

Of course he did.

As they laughed and drank whiskey like old friends, I excused myself and stormed into the backyard, the photo now burning in my hands.

Luna knew my mother.

Why hadn't he said anything?

I needed answers, but not from him. Not yet.

---

That night, I climbed into Zaria's bed without a word. She kissed my forehead, but I couldn't sleep.

Instead, I stared at the ceiling, wondering how deep the betrayal ran.

Zaria stirred in her sleep, her hand resting over my stomach. And I should've felt comfort. But all I felt was the weight of truth pressing against my chest.

I was falling apart.

And I didn't know who would catch me when I finally broke.

---

The next morning, a file arrived at my doorstep.

No return address. No note. Just my name scribbled in rough handwriting.

Inside were newspaper clippings. Police reports. A witness statement from a maid who claimed she heard screaming the night my mother died-but later recanted her statement.

My stepfather's name was redacted, but the timeline was unmistakable.

This wasn't just a murder.

It was an execution. Covered up. Neatly buried.

And someone wanted me to find it all.

---

My phone buzzed.

Luna: Need to talk. Urgent. Meet me at the station. 8pm.

I didn't respond.

Instead, I copied the file. Hid it under a loose tile in my bathroom.

I didn't know what Luna wanted, but I wasn't walking into anything unarmed.

---

That evening, I stood outside the station. Cold wind whipped through my hoodie. I was early.

Luna showed up exactly on time. He looked... different. Tired. Haunted.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"To help you."

"Funny. Didn't know betrayal came with a warning."

He sighed. "Your mother... she was everything to me. We were partners. Once. Before she met him."

I felt the ground shift beneath me.

"She kept evidence," he said. "Something that could ruin him. She hid it. I've been trying to find it ever since."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because if you don't, he wins."

I didn't trust him.

But I needed him.

For now.

---

As I walked home that night, a car followed me. Unmarked. Headlights off.

I ducked into an alley. Waited.

The car passed.

But I knew then-he was watching me.

My stepfather wasn't done.

And neither was I.

---

Back in my room, I sat cross-legged on the bed and stared at my reflection in the mirror. The girl looking back at me was a stranger-haunted eyes, clenched jaw, a ghost of who I once was.

The weight of everything pressed down on my chest. Secrets. Lies. Betrayals.

I thought about Luna's confession. About the photo. About Zaria, and the conversation I wasn't supposed to hear.

Then my phone buzzed again.

This time, it was a video.

Anonymous.

It showed my stepfather in a room I didn't recognize. He was arguing with a man I'd never seen. Their voices were muffled, but one word caught my attention:

"Skye."

My name.

I turned up the volume.

"She's getting too close," the man said.

My stepfather nodded. "I'll handle it."

My blood ran cold.

They were planning something.

I didn't know who had sent the video-but someone out there was watching over me. Or watching me fall apart.

Either way, I had to move. Fast.

---

The next morning, I asked Zaria to meet me at the library.

I needed to see her eyes. Needed to know if I was being paranoid or if the betrayal went deeper.

She arrived late, hair in a messy bun, eyes guarded.

"You look like hell," she said.

"Thanks. I feel worse."

I pushed the journal across the table. Opened to the photo.

"You knew Luna. Why didn't you tell me?"

She blinked. "I didn't know he was that Luna. Not until I saw the photo."

"And the conversation outside the station?"

She looked down. "I didn't say anything, Skye. I swear. He asked questions, I gave nothing."

I wanted to believe her.

God, I wanted to believe her.

But trust wasn't cheap anymore.

---

As I walked home, I felt eyes on me again. But this time, I didn't run.

I turned the corner, stepped into the shadows, and waited.

A man emerged-tall, dark coat, cigarette between his lips.

He paused when he saw me.

"Didn't expect you to stop."

"Who are you?"

He dropped the cigarette. Crushed it beneath his boot.

"Someone who wants the same thing you do. Justice."

He handed me an envelope. "Your mom's case. Names. Locations. Start digging."

Then he vanished.

My heart pounded as I opened it.

Inside was the name of a company. Shell corp. Offshore accounts.

And one name I hadn't seen before:

My real father's.

I stumbled back, the world tilting. Could it be?

Everything I thought I knew was a lie.

Even my bloodline.

---

I went home, locked the door, and cried.

Then I stood up, wiped my tears, and grabbed the hidden file.

I wasn't stopping.

Not now.

If they wanted war, they picked the wrong girl.