JUNE 6

ALLIX

"Apologies," Conrad drawled, offering me a stiff yet polite smile. In the lustrous museum lighting, his grey eyes glittered with sparks of silver. "I've never understood why people are so surprised when crowds turn violent. Accidents have consequences too."

"Diffusion of responsibility," I remarked somewhat randomly as my thoughts scrambled together. "It's one of the dominant factors that influence crowd violence."

"I should consider myself lucky, then, that you appear to be a rational individual." My breathing hitched as Conrad stepped forward, the smell of expensive tobacco emanating from him, and blocked my view of Brenna and Syd. It was a strategic move, one that secured him an offensive stance, but I didn't dare to move. That would indicate intimidation. "I didn't have a say in choosing the venue, but if I did, I would've picked one that's larger than a closet."

I risked extending a hand. "I don't think we've met. I'm Allix McGovern."

"Conrad Kane." His grip was painfully strong, and my metacarpal bones threatened to fracture. "Dakota was smart to call you when that orca washed up at Cape Blue. There aren't many people who would've chosen to stick around once they saw what they were getting themselves into."

Keep it together, I chastised myself. That phone call was common knowledge.

"It was the right thing to do," I answered as he finally released my hand.

Conrad stared at me for a prolonged moment, his eyes narrowing before he unleashed a dry chuckle. "It was nice to officially meet you, Miss McGovern. Enjoy the party."

The following moments passed in a dizzying blur.

Conrad slinked back into the crowd, and I took a few steadying breaths to allow my heartbeat to become steady once more. I breathed in, breathed out, and persuaded myself that I wasn't in any real danger. The only person who had ever really hurt me was myself.

If Syd or Brenna spotted me, they didn't try and intervene as I bolted out of the main exhibit. I succeeded in making it out onto the terrace without bumping into anyone, and the cool breeze was literally a breath of fresh air that tickled my nose as I inhaled deeply.

There was little doubt in my mind that Conrad knew exactly who I was and where he had seen me before (or pretended not to see me). His movements in those initial seconds - the wide eyes and stiff shoulders - were difficult to fake. There was also the fact that he chose to reference a closet, which wasn't a subtle or an eloquent comparison. But maybe that was the point. Conrad wanted me to realize that I hadn't left Cottage 13 unscathed.

Of course, that also meant that Brenna hadn't either. But if Conrad knew we were in the closet, why hadn't he done anything about it? He had every reason to press charges or, at the very least, call us out for trespassing. The question burned inside my head, and I was tempted to go back inside to demand that Conrad explain himself. I was tired of feigning nonchalance in the face of grave uncertainty.

"You look pale," a voice stated from somewhere nearby. "Like the I just saw a ghost kind of pale."

There were very few people who I was interested in talking to right now, and fortunately, Maud Hamilton was one of them.

"I'm half Irish," I said, smiling weakly. "And you know I don't believe in ghosts."

Maud appeared beside me a moment later, and the gold sun earrings swaying from her ears caught in the light. "At least that hasn't changed."

"Lucky me." I glanced around the terrace, searching for Maud's date to the banquet - her real one - not the guy she struck a deal with at Providence Point. "Where's Nicki?"

She sighed, shifting to lean her back against the railing. "Back in Seattle. He left the island a few days ago."

I failed to mask my surprise and felt my eyebrows skyrocket up my forehead. Nicki was supposed to teach tennis lessons at Providence Point all summer, and had never mentioned any plans of returning to the city. Something must've happened.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked after a beat of silence.

Maud drummed her fingers against the wooden railing. "After I made the mistake of throwing myself at Dakota, I told Nicki about it and decided that I wasn't ready for any kind of relationship. It wasn't fair of me to emotionally hold him hostage. He's too good for that."

"You were honest with him," I said, chewing on the inside of my cheek. I had to stop my thoughts from meandering to other details of Maud's comment. "I think that's how you really know you care about someone. You could've lied, and maybe he would've stayed, but you didn't."

"Then what's the point of having a strong moral compass if the truth chases people away, anyway?" Maud asked with a small smile.

"I'm still trying to figure that part out."

Maud's smile suddenly fell. Something on the cobblestone street below us had acquired her attention.

I followed her gaze, but nothing stood out. "What is it?"

"I've seen that car before," Maud said, her voice brimming with quiet conviction. She pointed at a red Chevy pickup truck that occupied a narrow parking space. "It showed up at Providence Point when we went to print the photos of the Black Swan."

As I stared out at the truck, a memory jumped to the forefront of my mind and I stiffened. "I think I've seen it before too. It nearly ran me over at a crosswalk after brunch."

"That can't be a coincidence," Maud muttered. "Friday Island is small, but it's not that small."

A reasonable explanation presented itself to me. "The driver is probably part of the paparazzi. We don't have anything to worry about. Brenna and Dakota are their targets."

"Totally." Maud visibly attempted to relax her shoulders. "I totally need to stop thinking that everything is about me."

I glanced back down at the truck, and the setting sun reflected off of its hood like a blinding spotlight. Its Washington license plate stood out, but I couldn't make out the numbers. There was a voice in the back of my mind that didn't want to dismiss Maud's concerns, but I needed to prioritize my problems. The most pressing one was Conrad Kane.

"Listen, I know this year hasn't been easy for us, and there are so many things I wish I did differently," I started, hoping that Maud could hear the sincerity in my voice. "But I want you to know that you still have me. Call whenever you need me, and I'll be there this time. I promise."

Maud pulled me into a brief yet suffocating hug. "Thank you," she whispered. When she stepped back, the ruffle detailing on her white wrap-dress fluttered in the breeze. "I should probably go find Grandfather. He was being weird about coming tonight."

"I'll catch up with you later," I replied with a wave as Maud sauntered away, her long dark ponytail swaying behind her.

After she vanished from sight, I sighed and stared out at the horizon. Beneath the hazy blue sky that framed the surrounding mountains, sunlight glittered on the harbor. The serenity of the landscape momentarily calmed my nerves, but I didn't dare let my guard down.

So much for making it through the night without any major conflicts, I thought.

Eventually, I decided that there was no point in delaying the inevitable and found my way back into the main exhibit of the museum. The banquet was still in full swing with regal people talking and sipping from flutes of champagne. They seemed to overlook the ongoing drama. I wondered if Dakota or Syd were looking for me, or if my absence was the new normal.

Trying to concentrate on finding my parents, I scanned the crowd as I wove my way through it with a polite smile plastered on my lips. When I glanced down a hall leading to another smaller exhibit, I spotted Dakota and his humble grin.

He was so clearly in his element.

I wondered if Dakota had felt himself evolve into this new glamorous version of himself or if he had any choice in the matter, but quickly dismissed the thought. There were far more important things I needed to focus on.

The group of people standing around Dakota listened with rapt attention as he spoke, and my stomach twisted when I noticed that one of them was Conrad. There was subtle pride occupying his features, and he nodded along dutifully as his protégé stole the show.

Another man, one that I now recognized as Myles Bennett, waved a taunting finger at Dakota, and began to talk over him. Strangely enough, Dakota didn't seem to mind. Conrad, one the other hand, grimaced in the way a football coach would when his star quarterback threw to a second-string running back. If I wasn't so rattled by Conrad's presence, it would be almost comical.

As if Dakota sensed me watching, his brown eyes flicked over to mine, and it only seemed to take him a second to work out that something was wrong. It probably had something to do with my rigid stance and pale complexion.

At first, neither of us moved. The party carried on around us as we simply looked at each other, but then Dakota tilted his head in the direction of the adjacent exhibit. It was an invitation to meet him there, and I accepted it with a small nod. I appreciated the fact that we were on the same wavelength; non-verbal communication was equally important as verbal.

I entered the exhibit, one that housed the traditional whaling equipment, and surveyed the other guests milling around. There were only a dozen, likely because the exhibit wasn't the most fascinating, but I was grateful for the breathing room.

Dakota must've finessed an artful exit from his conversation because he arrived less than a minute later wearing a guarded expression.

"Tell me your night is going better than mine," I said a little too bluntly.

One of Dakota's dark eyebrows lifted as he searched my features. "By the looks of it, yeah. Everything alright?"

I knew that he knew it wasn't, but I couldn't risk explaining it to him - not when he probably trusted Conrad more than he trusted me. I tilted my head a little to one side and offered him a dubious smile. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Right," he scoffed, shaking his head. "Because you're always fine."

His words cut like a knife, threatening to bring me to my knees. I wanted to look away, but I forced myself to remain impassive. I knew he was still trying to poke a hole in my armour, and that he wouldn't back down so easily. Closing the door in his face was what I'd needed to do to keep the truth from clawing its way out of me, but I didn't have that option now.

I decided that the best course of action was to give him something real, a token of honesty to satisfy his sudden interest in my emotional well-being. It was something I'd learned to do with my parents, back when they wanted to believe that they were capable of healing me with strict meal plans and curfews. I'd buried my best lies within the worst truths.

"Okay," I said, and momentarily pressed my lips together as I paused. It was all part of an act, a role I was suddenly playing. "You're right. I'm not always fine. I didn't leave Friday Island because I wanted to, I left because I needed to. I know I haven't been transparent about much lately, but you should know that I'm fine. I'll be perfectly fine."

Dakota laughed. The sound was foreign to me because it was bitter and short. The knife twisted a little deeper.

"You'd make a great actress, Allix," he said, shaking his head. "I almost want to believe you."

My stomach twisted as I realized my mistake. Of course, I hadn't automatically won him over with my attempt at honesty. He was a writer who fraternized with the best actors and actresses in Hollywood. I was a ghost of a girl who whispered failed incantations of self worth and had a knack for showing people what I thought they wanted to see. That was a sad movie, one that I thought was over. But now, I wasn't so sure.

Just as I was about to try and salvage my dignity, something caught my eye. A swivel-mounted harpoon gun sat on a sturdy glass platform in the back of the exhibit, likely removed from its display case for the banquet. The tip of the spear gleamed bronze, though I suspected it was recently slick with blood.

"That's it," I heard myself say. "It's right there."

"What?"

Ignoring Dakota's confusion, I approached the harpoon and heard his footsteps behind me. Other guests stood nearby, so I focused on maintaining a casual air about my movements.

"Nicki thought the harpoon would be on a boat, but what if they found a way to hide it in plain sight?"

We stopped in front of the harpoon, a thin sliver of air between our shoulders. I glanced at Dakota, and witnessed three emotions cross his features: anger, uncertainty, and resolve.

And before I could anticipate his reaction, he stepped forward, reaching out to put a hand on the harpoon. Suddenly grateful for my cat-like reflexes, I maneuvered in front of him to shove my burnt (and soon to be bruised) hand against his chest.

"Dakota, don't," I pleaded, my voice a harsh whisper. "There are people who want to believe you're guilty of something. So, if this is the harpoon, then you need to stay away. Don't give them any more ammunition."

"Careful, Allix," Dakota warned as I failed to guide him away from the harpoon. "You wouldn't want people to mistake your stubbornness for affection."

"This is me being careful," I insisted, not even realizing that I'd stepped closer to him, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his cognac eyes. "We should go. There are security cameras in here, and we need to pretend-"

"I don't want to pretend!" Dakota interrupted, and I could almost feel the heat of his gaze burning my skin. I couldn't blame the lack of air conditioning this time. "I'm done with pretending."

"Sometimes you need to pretend." I fully registered our proximity and took a step back. "Sometimes it's in your best interest."

We weren't discussing the harpoon anymore. That much was obvious to both of us.

Dakota gave a dry chuckle as he studied me closely. "What happened to you not wanting to be anyone's guardian angel?"

"I don't want to watch you ruin your career," I said as loudly as I dared. "That's the truth. That's the reason why I-"

A distant scream derailed my would-be confession, startling us both. I didn't know who initiated it, but we gripped each other's hand as we spun around towards the exit. The scream sounded like it had originated from the main exhibit, and whispers started spreading like wildfire.

Dakota was the first to recover, but he didn't drop my hand. "I'll want to hear that reason later," he said, his gaze lingering on the harpoon for a moment before he led us out of the exhibit.

The hallway was humid and felt narrower now that more people were attempting to travel between exhibits. Fragments of conversation reached my ears, but none of them transcended speculation.

"Can't always blame that damn TV show."

"Maybe someone drank too much champagne."

"That poor girl from the whale watching company."

When we pressed into the crowded entryway, I felt like we were in the audience of a play, watching the action unfold on stage. Sheriff Wakeman and another officer stood at the entrance with a silver-haired man. My chest ignited as I remembered the screenplay. The culprit in Apex was the owner of a whale-watching company.

Realizing that I was standing too far away to hear what Wakeman was saying, I dropped Dakota's hand and attempted to navigate through the crowd, but it'd become an impenetrable wall. No one wanted to look away.

"We need to find Maud," I rasped, barely recognizing my voice. The room seemed to spin as I scanned the crowd for her, but I failed to locate her. "She shouldn't be alone."

I turned around to face Dakota, who was as grave and immobile as a Greek statue. I knew he'd stand his ground, even if the consequences were like ivy twirling up his legs and would eventually choke him. I also knew that if I was in his shoes, I'd want to disappear. I'd want to take the first ferry off the island and never come back. But that was me. I was a runner, and that wasn't always a good thing.

"It doesn't make any sense," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't know how-"

Brenna suddenly materialized in front of us, her winged eyeliner sharper than the tip of a swear. "I've been looking for you two everywhere! I was about to scream to try and get your attention."

"Christ," Dakota huffed. "What the hell do you want Brenna?"

"The police are taking Mr. Nakamura in for questioning," Brenna said, and I felt my eyes widen. "Apparently, they had a warrant for Pacific King, but he refused to come in for questioning on his own."

"That doesn't sound like Mr. Nakamura," I said, over Maud's grandfather. My gaze skated to the front of the room, where two officers were guiding Mr. Nakamura out the door. The moment they were gone, the whispers evolved into cries of confusion.

Brenna frowned. "That's what I keep hearing. Syd and Maud weren't exactly calm when the police decided to crash our little party."

"Where are they now?" Dakota asked.

"I don't know," she shrugged.

I scoffed. "Seriously?"

Brenna narrowed her eyes as she studied my face for a beat. But then she leaned forward to whisper in my ear. "It's not my fault that our reconnaissance mission is going to shit." When she pulled back, she directed her attention to an annoyed Dakota. "Don't look so butt-hurt. I just told her that we rational girls need to go support Maud. Syd also thinks with his heart, not his head. The last thing we need is for those two to start a fight."

I was unfazed by Brenna's tidy lie and nodded in confirmation. Besides, she wasn't wrong. Syd would get his knuckles bloody for Maud if necessary, though I doubted he would be alone in his attack.

Dakota heaved out a sigh, looking away from us and tucking his hands into the front pockets of his khakis. It was the first time tonight that I'd seen him take up a despondent attitude. "Fine, you do that. I need to go find Conrad and see if we can set the record straight."

As he turned to leave, I caught his hand.

I didn't know why I did it. There wasn't a good reason for me to prevent him from speaking to Conrad, but this latest development with Mr. Nakamura seemed to demand a more aggressive action. There had to be something more we could do instead of just relying on Apex and waiting for the next bad thing to happen.

"Wait," I said, choking on my melodrama. A weighted silence reigned for a handful of heartbeats as I tried to think of something meaningful to say, and Dakota's expression softened. "What happens now?"

The crowd was beginning to disband, losing interest now that there was nothing to anchor their attention to. The electric tension in the room was fading as well, though there was a new sense of trepidation that was draining the fun out of the banquet. I suspected that it would linger in the days to come.

"I don't know," Dakota finally admitted, adjusting his tie. "But the show goes on."