CH 117
I stop in my tracks, turning to face Wake.
“Whatever my grandmother is looking into, I know it has to be for a good reason,” I say firmly, my voice more confident than I feel. “She’s not some villain in all of this.”
Wake’s gaze is steady, his expression carved from stone. “I had hoped for the same,” he replies, his voice low and measured. “But the more we uncover, the less certain I am of Anthozoa’s motives. She has been disconnected from her people and her lineage for so long that it is impossible to know where her loyalties lie.”
I blink at him, stunned by the bluntness of his words. “Her loyalty is with me,” I say, fighting the rising defensiveness in my tone. “She taught me to love the sea, to respect it. She brought me to those places for a reason, Wake. She taught me how to swim, to find my footing in this world. She’s the one who encouraged me to study marine biology. And if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have found you.”
Wake folds his arms across his chest, his powerful frame towering over me. His jaw tightens, and there’s an edge of doubt in his eyes that makes my stomach twist.
“And yet,” he says after a beat, “she is the same woman who allowed you and your mother to grow up not knowing your true heritage. Do you not find it strange that she hid your bloodline for so long, only to leave breadcrumbs for you to follow now? What changed?”
I open my mouth to argue but falter. It’s not like I haven’t asked myself the same questions. Why now? Why after all this time? My chest tightens as I try to find the words to justify it, to defend her.
“She must have had her reasons,” I say finally, my voice quieter now. “You don’t know her, Wake. She’s careful. She wouldn’t have done any of this without a purpose.”
Wake’s piercing blue eyes search mine, but his jaw remains stubbornly set. “And yet, you are walking blind into whatever purpose that is,” he says. “Without knowing what game you are playing or the rules she is following.”
“That’s not fair,” I snap, heat rising in my cheeks. “She’s my family. I’m not going to assume the worst about her just because we don’t have all the answers yet.”
“And I will not assume the best simply because she is your blood,” Wake counters, his tone sharp but not unkind. “You have faith in her. I understand that. But I have spent a lifetime watching my people betray their kin for far less than what Anthozoa is hiding.”
His words sting, even though I know he’s speaking from experience, not malice. I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my emotions. “Wake,” I say, softer this time, “I need you to trust me on this. She’s not the enemy.”
He doesn’t answer right away, and the silence stretches between us like a taut wire. Finally, he exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “I trust you,” he says. “But that does not mean I trust her. Not yet.”
It’s not the answer I want, but it’s enough for now. I nod, forcing a small smile. “Fair enough.”
We start walking again, the sound of waves crashing against the shore filling the space between us. But the conversation lingers in my mind, every word replaying on a loop.
I want to believe that my grandmother has been guiding me for all the right reasons, that she’s trying to help me—help us. But Wake’s doubts plant a seed of uncertainty that I can’t ignore.
What if he’s right? What if I’m walking straight into a trap? And worse, what if I’ve been dragging Wake along with me this whole time? The thought sends a shiver down my spine.
“Phoebe,” Wake says suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts. “I am not saying this to hurt you. But we must be prepared for the possibility that Anthozoa’s goals may not align with our own.”
“I know,” I say, though my voice wavers. “I just… I have to believe that there’s a reason for all of this. A good reason.”
He nods once, but the look in his eyes tells me he’s not convinced. And honestly? I’m not sure I am either.
Still, when he turns on a heel and walks off, I feel the need to chase, to convince him that he’s wrong.
The museum room is dimly lit, the air cool and tinged with the faint scent of salt and aged wood.
“She couldn’t possibly be trying to set us up, Wake,” I call after him. “She didn’t even know we came to Hawai’i! And how could she have known about my awful cryptozoology professor being in Enigma’s pocket?”
He doesn’t respond, his pace quickening. The sound of his boots on the polished floor echoes through the hall. I clench my fists, my anger sharp enough to cut.
“Wake!” I snap, jogging to catch up. “Would you stop walking away from me?”
I round a corner, entering a vast exhibit hall, and come to a sudden halt. Looming above me, suspended from the ceiling, is a massive sculpture of a kraken, its tentacles coiled menacingly as if preparing to drag an entire ship into the abyss. The intricate details—the glossy texture of the tentacles, the sinister gleam in its eyes—send a chill down my spine.
“Holy—” I exhale, stepping back instinctively.
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