Chapter 29
Elara
Home. She still called Blackwood Estate home, as if we had any claim to that cold stone prison.
I put the phone away and pushed open the stairwell door to find the hallway full of students between classes, their voices and laughter creating the soundtrack of normal life that would never be mine again.
Several girls saw me and immediately huddled together, their whispers punctuated by pointing fingers as one of them held up her phone to show the others something that made them all laugh.
I kept walking with my head held high, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break down in the middle of their entertainment.
In the restroom, I splashed cold water on my face and looked in the mirror at the bruises that were fading to yellow-green instead of purple, though my eyes looked wrong in a way that had nothing to do with physical injury—hollow and haunted by things I couldn't unsee.
I pulled out my phone again and looked at Mason's contact, at the number that didn't work anymore, at the witness who'd been erased from my life as if he'd never existed at all.
But he had existed, and he'd saved me when no one else would. That was real.
I took a breath and walked to Ms. Rivera's office, knowing what I had to do even if it was probably futile.
She looked up when I knocked, her expression shifting from surprise to concern in the space of a heartbeat. "Elara. Are you all right?"
"I need Mason Parker's home address."
She hesitated, her fingers hovering over her keyboard as she processed my request. "I heard his family moved. Very suddenly."
"I know, but they can't have left yet—not this fast, not with all the logistics of moving across the country." I leaned forward, desperation seeping into my voice. "If I go now—"
"Elara." Her voice was gentle in a way that made me want to scream, heavy with the kind of sad wisdom that came from seeing too many students crushed by systems they couldn't fight. "Sometimes the system fails us. Sometimes powerful people make sure of that."
"So I should just accept it? Just let Victoria win?"
Ms. Rivera stood up and walked around her desk, and I noticed for the first time how she had to look up to meet my eyes, this woman who'd been one of the few teachers to treat me like a human being. "I'm not saying that. I'm saying be careful. Be smart. Don't put yourself in more danger."
"They already put me in danger by sending men to—" I stopped, unable to finish the sentence that would make the horror real again.
She reached out and touched my arm with surprising gentleness. "I know. And I'm sorry. I wish I could do more."
"You can. Give me his address."
She sighed, a sound full of resignation and worry, before walking back to her computer to type something and write it on a sticky note. "West 86th Street. Upper West Side. But Elara—"
I took the note before she could finish her warning. "Thank you."
"Be safe. Please."
I left before she could say anything else that might make me lose my nerve.
---
The taxi took twenty minutes through heavy traffic where every red light felt like an hour stretching into eternity, each delay another chance for Mason's family to disappear before I could reach them.
I counted the cash in my wallet—forty-three dollars left, enough for the taxi but not enough for anything else, not enough for a future that didn't involve crawling back to Blackwood Estate on my knees.
The driver dropped me at the corner of West 86th in front of a brownstone building in a nice neighborhood with trees lining the street, nothing like the gritty reality of the Bronx where I'd almost lost everything.
Two black SUVs were parked in front with Mason's family loading boxes into the back, and I saw him in his gray hoodie and jeans, helping his father carry a large suitcase toward the vehicle.
My heart started pounding as I stepped off the curb and started to cross the street, opening my mouth to call out his name.
"Mason—"
A hand clamped over my mouth hard and fast, the black leather glove cutting off my voice before it could properly form, and I tried to scream but the sound came out muffled and wrong.
Someone grabbed my arms and pulled them behind my back with the kind of professional, practiced efficiency that told me these weren't random strangers but trained security personnel.
"Ms. Vance." The man's voice was low and calm, almost apologetic in its courtesy. "Please don't make a scene."
I struggled and tried to bite the hand covering my mouth, but the grip tightened and cut off my air until stars burst across my vision.
Through the gaps between his fingers, I watched with growing horror as Mason got into the SUV, as the door closed with terrible finality, as both vehicles pulled away from the curb and disappeared down the street.
My vision blurred from tears or lack of oxygen or maybe both, and when the hand finally released my mouth I gasped and spun around to face my captors.
Three men in black suits with earpieces stood there, and I recognized them immediately as Mr. Vane Senior's private security team—the same men who'd stood guard at family events, who'd driven me to school, who'd always been there in the background of my life like silent sentinels.
"You're hurting me." My voice came out hoarse and damaged.
"Apologies, Ms. Vance." The lead guard's face was professionally blank, devoid of any emotion that might suggest he felt bad about what he'd just done. "Mr. Vane Senior requests your presence at Blackwood Estate."
"And if I refuse?"
"Your mother is waiting for you there." He gestured to a black Cadillac Escalade parked behind us, its tinted windows reflecting my pale, frightened face back at me. "It would be unfortunate if we had to contact the school about your unauthorized absence."
I looked down the street where Mason's SUVs had disappeared around the corner, taking with them my last hope of justice, my last witness who could prove what Victoria had done to me.
Too late. Always too late.
"Fine." I walked to the car with what little dignity I had left. "I'll go."