Chapter Twelve - Pricilla

I wake up with a lingering unease, like I've been dragged through a storm in my sleep. My mind is clouded, but the events of last night rush in the second my eyes flicker open.

Anton.

His face. His words. That look in his eyes—half arrogance, half something darker, something I can't quite name. He's always been a problem. He always will be. I know that.

But why did I feel… something when he got too close? When his voice dropped so low, almost like he was whispering things meant only for me? I shove those thoughts away, but the flutter of heat in my chest doesn't fade. I refuse to let him get under my skin. Not like this.

I roll out of bed, feeling the weight of yesterday and the unbearable pressure of what's to come. The reality of my situation is sinking in, the stakes higher than I want to admit. I'm tangled in this mess with Anton, with Luka, with everyone else I've been forced to interact with. But more than anything, I feel like a pawn, caught in a game I didn't ask to play.

I pace around my room, gathering my thoughts, trying to focus on something other than the image of Anton standing in front of me, the intensity in his eyes searing through the walls I've carefully built.

I can't let him in. I won't. I remind myself.

But even as I tell myself that, there's a gnawing feeling that won't leave, like something is always just on the edge of my consciousness. A truth I'm avoiding. A truth I don't want to face.

There's no room for this. No time for whatever this is. I have bigger things to worry about.

I get dressed, picking a black dress that's simple but sharp, the kind of thing that leaves no room for softness. I need to be untouchable today. Cold. Like the person I've learned to be.

But the mirror reflects something else: the storm that's been brewing behind my eyes, the rawness I've spent years concealing. I'm not sure if I can keep this up, but I have no other choice.

I grab my phone, and my chest tightens when I see the unread message from Luka.

Meet me at the usual spot tonight. I have something to tell you.

A heavy sigh escapes me as I shove the phone back into my purse. Luka. Luka, who has been my constant since everything changed, who I've relied on and trusted, is now a complication I'm not sure I can handle. I've always known something wasn't right about him, but the truth is something I don't want to acknowledge yet. Not when everything else is already falling apart.

But I can't avoid it forever. There's a part of me that's screaming for answers. That's telling me to confront him, to push him for the truth, to demand that he tell me exactly where his loyalty lies. But then I think of the times he's been there for me. The times he's protected me, kept me safe in the ways I've needed.

The thoughts tangle in my head, and I push them away, focusing on the here and now.

The door to my room creaks open and I freeze, my heart stalling for a brief second. My mother's voice is soft, almost hesitant, but still authoritative.

"Pricilla."

I turn slowly, her presence suddenly making the room feel smaller, the weight of her stare even heavier. She doesn't wait for an invitation. She never does.

"What's going on with you?" she asks, crossing her arms, her eyes narrowing in that way that always makes me feel like I'm under a microscope.

I stare back, not giving her the satisfaction of seeing anything. "Nothing."

Her lips curl into a thin, disapproving line, and for a moment, I see the woman who raised me—the woman who taught me how to survive in this world of lies and manipulation. The woman who showed me that love is a weakness. But I don't need her reminding me of that today.

"Don't lie to me, Pricilla," she says, her voice a bit sharper now. "I know you. Something's off. And it's not just your moods. It's your actions."

I want to snap at her, tell her she has no idea what I'm going through, but I hold my tongue. Instead, I meet her gaze head-on, my jaw clenched so tightly I can feel the tension radiating through my bones.

"I'm fine, Mother," I finally say, my voice calm, controlled. It's the only mask I can put on now. The only way I know how to survive this.

She doesn't say anything else, but the look she gives me lingers. There's no need for words. She doesn't trust me. She never has.

As she turns to leave, I exhale slowly, trying to regain the composure I've lost. I've been walking through life with this heavy weight, trying to balance between my family, the lies, and the things I don't want to face.

But no matter how hard I try to push them down, the questions still rise. Anton. Luka. The truth that's still out there. Everything is tied together in ways I can't quite understand yet, but I know one thing for sure: I can't run from it forever.

I can't run from him forever.

I walk out of my room, ready to face whatever today has in store for me. I know I won't get the answers I want. Not yet. But I'm getting closer. I can feel it in my bones. The tension between me and Anton. The strange sense of loyalty I feel toward Luka, even when I'm starting to doubt him.

I can't stay neutral much longer. I'll have to choose a side eventually.

But what if the side I choose only brings me deeper into this mess?

I brush the thought aside. I'm strong. I've always been strong. I've survived this long, and I'll keep surviving.

But tonight, something's going to change. I can feel it.

I step into the hallway, and the air feels thick with the kind of tension that has followed me since I stepped foot into this world. The whispers behind my back, the sidelong glances, the constant feeling of being watched—today it all feels more suffocating than usual.

I make my way down the hall to the kitchen, not bothering to glance at the clock. I already know it's late—too late to still be playing this dangerous game with my emotions, my loyalty, my mind. But no matter how much I try to distance myself from the chaos, the reality is that it's woven into every thread of my life now.

There's no escaping it.

The clink of silverware against plates reaches my ears before I even see him. Luka. He's sitting at the kitchen table, eyes fixed on his phone, the usual easy-going, confident air he carries about him today wrapped in something more reserved. More… serious. That's not a good sign.

I pause in the doorway, watching him for a moment, trying to gauge where his head is at. What is he really thinking?

When he finally looks up and meets my gaze, his expression softens slightly, though I can still detect the faint edge of something lurking beneath the surface.

"You're up early," he remarks, a casual tone to his voice that doesn't quite match the subtle tension radiating from him.

I don't respond immediately, stepping fully into the room and shutting the door behind me with a soft click. Instead, I walk over to the counter and pour myself a glass of water, taking my time.

"I was just thinking," I say slowly, carefully. "About everything."

He watches me closely, not saying anything for a long while, but I can feel his gaze sharpening, like he's studying every detail of my expression. There's something about this silence, this careful dance between us that feels different, like we're both teetering on the edge of something neither of us is quite ready for.

"Thinking about what?" he asks after a beat, his voice low, almost cautious.

I take a long sip of the water, buying myself more time to figure out what I need to say, what I want to say. There's no room for hesitation, but I can't seem to find the right words. Not yet.

"About everything that's happened," I repeat, setting the glass down with a quiet clink. "About Anton. About you."

His brow furrows, the casual mask slipping for just a moment, replaced by a more guarded expression. "What about me?"

The way he asks it, as if he's trying to hide whatever discomfort he might be feeling, makes my chest tighten. I've known Luka long enough to know when something's off, when he's trying to deflect. It's always been like this. Always a shield between us, no matter how close we've gotten over the years.

"You've been acting strange lately," I say, crossing my arms over my chest, locking eyes with him. "You've been distant. Not just with me, but with everything."

I watch as his jaw tightens slightly, his gaze flickering away from mine for just a second, but it's enough. I'm not sure if it's guilt or something else, but something has changed, something in him that I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to uncover.

"I don't know what you mean," he replies, but there's a slight edge to his voice now, his posture stiffening as if bracing for something he knows is coming but doesn't want to face.

I take a deep breath, stepping closer to him, my voice soft but firm. "Luka, I know you. And I know something's wrong. You've been acting different ever since... Everything started with Anton. And I need to know what's going on."

For a moment, the silence between us is deafening. Luka's face hardens, and I can see the tension tightening his body, the way his hand clenches into a fist on the table. There's something in his eyes, something flickering—guilt, maybe? Fear? I can't tell. But it makes my stomach churn with uncertainty.

"You don't need to worry about me, Pricilla," he says, his voice quieter now, but there's an underlying tension in it, something I can't quite place. "I'm fine."

But I don't believe him.

"Why didn't you tell me about the meeting last night?" I ask, my voice cutting through the thick air. "Why didn't you tell me Anton was there?"

His eyes snap to mine, a flash of something dark crossing his face, but before I can read it fully, he's shifting, standing up, his movements swift.

"I didn't think it mattered," he mutters, running a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable. "I was trying to keep you out of it."

"Out of what, exactly?" I press, refusing to back down. "Luka, I need you to stop lying to me."

I step closer, my heartbeat quickening, unsure of how much longer I can hold my ground, but I refuse to back away now. Something about his reaction is making my gut twist in all the wrong ways. It feels like I'm watching someone I thought I knew slip further and further away from me.

For a moment, he doesn't say anything, his eyes locked on the floor, his hand resting on the edge of the table. The silence stretches between us, heavy, suffocating.

Finally, he looks up, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "You wouldn't understand," he says, the words coming out strained, like they're a confession he didn't want to make. "I didn't want you involved in any of this. It's... bigger than you think."

His words linger in the air, unanswered, and something shifts in me. There's a chasm opening between us, one I can't cross. One I'm not sure I want to cross.

Before I can reply, he turns away from me, his back to me, his posture rigid. "I have to go," he mutters, his voice thick with something I can't define.

I watch as he walks out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. The sound echoes in the empty space, the weight of the conversation sinking deep into my bones.

What just happened? What did he mean by "bigger than you think"?

I stand there for a long moment, the pieces of our conversation spinning in my head, but none of them make sense. Not yet. But I know, deep down, that something is shifting. Something I can't control.

And I don't know how much longer I'll be able to pretend everything is still okay.

Luka stands before me, his gaze now intense, and I can see the hesitance in his eyes, something that wasn't there before. He's always been so sure of himself, so confident, but right now, his uncertainty is unsettling. It's almost as if he's been hiding something dark behind his usual calm demeanor. And for some reason, that makes the air between us feel even more oppressive, like a storm that's about to break.

I cross my arms tighter, feeling exposed, vulnerable. "What do you mean, Luka? What is it that you've been hiding?" I don't want to ask, but I can't stop myself. I can feel the pieces falling into place, and they don't fit together the way I want them to.

His lips twitch, a forced smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "It's complicated. I never wanted you to be involved in this. Not like this."

My heart skips a beat, the weight of his words sinking in. This? What does he mean? Involved in what? His words are laced with something I can't quite place, something dangerous that makes the room feel colder, darker.

The silence stretches, heavy and thick. It feels like the world is holding its breath.

I take a step back, trying to create some distance, my heart pounding in my chest. I try to keep my voice steady, but it cracks under the strain. "Involved in what, Luka?"

He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he looks away, clearly struggling with something. "In the games, the things I've been a part of. The things I've done."

The way he says it sends a chill through me. Games? Things he's done?

My mind is racing now, everything I thought I knew about Luka shattering with each passing second. I try to steady myself, but the flood of emotions is overwhelming. This isn't just about him anymore.

"Luka…" I start, my voice barely a whisper. "What aren't you telling me?"

He doesn't answer right away, his eyes flicking nervously toward the window, like he's afraid someone might be watching. He takes a step closer, lowering his voice so it's barely audible. "Anton... he has me in his pocket, Pricilla. He's been using me. This whole time."

I feel the ground slip from beneath my feet. Anton. The very name sends a surge of heat through my veins, a mixture of hatred and something else—something darker, something more dangerous. "What do you mean 'using you'?" I ask, trying to hold onto my composure.

Luka's gaze flicks to mine, and for the first time, I see a flicker of shame. He looks like he's carrying the weight of a thousand secrets on his shoulders. "He's the one who pulled the strings behind everything. He made me watch you. He made me get close to you." His words hang in the air like a poisonous gas. "And now, I can't get out of it."

My breath catches in my throat. What? Everything we've shared, every moment, every conversation, every touch—was all for nothing? A means to an end for Anton?

My chest tightens, the sting of betrayal cutting through me like a knife. I can barely process what he's saying, but I can feel it deep in my gut. The trust I had in Luka is crumbling, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to pick up the pieces.

"You were using me?" I breathe, each word feeling like a weight.

He flinches, his face a mix of regret and something darker. "I never wanted to hurt you, Pricilla. I swear. But Anton... he has a way of getting into your head. Making you do things. I thought I could control it. I thought I could protect you, but... I was wrong."

My vision starts to blur, and for a moment, I feel like I might collapse. The ground beneath me is spinning, everything I thought I knew shattering into a million pieces.

The silence is deafening now.

"You should leave," I finally manage, my voice cold, but the words feel heavy. "I don't know who you are anymore."

His face hardens, but there's still a flicker of desperation in his eyes. "Pricilla, please—"

"No," I cut him off, my voice stronger than I expected. "Just leave."

I don't wait for him to respond. I can't. I turn on my heel and walk to the door, my hands trembling as I grip the knob. I open it and hold it wide, forcing myself to meet his gaze one last time.

"You've lied to me long enough, Luka," I say, my voice trembling with the weight of my emotions. "Get out. Now."

He hesitates for a moment, his face filled with conflict, but finally, he walks out, his steps heavy as he disappears down the hallway.

The door clicks shut behind him, and I slump against it, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I can feel the anger, the betrayal, and the pain swirling inside me, threatening to consume me whole.

But even as I try to push the hurt aside, a new, more dangerous thought settles deep in my chest.

Luka may be gone, but Anton's shadow looms larger than ever.

And I'm not sure how much longer I can outrun the storm that's coming

The silence in the room is suffocating, the weight of everything that just happened pressing down on me like an anchor dragging me into the depths. The door is shut, but the storm rages within me. My body feels cold, the room now colder than it was before Luka left, as if his betrayal has drained all warmth from the air. I press my back against the door, my hand sliding down to grip the handle as though it's the only thing keeping me grounded.

I'm not sure how long I stand there, caught in the stillness, but eventually, my breathing begins to slow. The pain, the betrayal, the rush of anger that surged through me only moments ago—everything starts to feel more real, more like a raw wound that I'm afraid to look at, afraid to touch.

He used me.

The thought cuts through my mind like glass. A sharp, jagged edge that slices deep into the trust I once had in Luka. The realization that everything I believed in—everything I felt—was nothing but a tool, a plaything for Anton. It feels like my heart has been ripped out of my chest, and I can't seem to find the strength to stitch it back together.

I swallow thickly, but the lump in my throat won't budge. How could I have been so blind? How could I not have seen the signs, the subtle shifts in Luka's behavior that should have tipped me off? I thought he was my ally, my friend—someone I could trust. But it was all a lie.

I take a few shaky steps away from the door, my hands trembling as I run them through my hair, trying to steady my mind. But nothing feels steady anymore. My thoughts are a blur of frustration and confusion. Why would he do this? I can barely understand it. He had a choice, didn't he? He could've walked away at any moment, could've told me the truth. Instead, he chose to play this sick game, dragging me into it with no regard for what it would do to me.

I feel the burn of tears behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I won't let him see me break. I won't give him that satisfaction.

But this hurts, I think, gripping the edge of the table so tightly that my knuckles turn white. This hurts more than anything Anton has ever done.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push away the flood of emotion, but it's no use. The anger rises in me again, stronger this time, sharper. I trusted you, Luka. I trusted you.

The irony stings—this is the same feeling I had when my father betrayed me. The same bitterness, the same hollow ache in my chest. It's not just Luka I'm angry at. It's everyone who's ever lied to me, used me for their own gain.

I walk to the window, my steps slow, almost deliberate. The world outside is bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun, everything bathed in soft light, while I stand here in the dark, consumed by a storm I can't seem to escape. My reflection stares back at me, but I barely recognize myself anymore. The girl who was so naïve, so willing to trust those around her… She's gone.

Is it even worth it to keep fighting?

I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.

I press my forehead against the cold glass, feeling the chill seep through the fabric of my clothes, but it does nothing to numb the pain that's gnawing at my insides.

Anton, Luka—they're both the same. The truth has been staring me in the face the whole time. They're both playing their own games, and I'm just a pawn. I've been a pawn for so long, and I can't escape it. Not with Luka, not with Anton.

But I won't let them win. Not like this.

I close my eyes, the anger still a simmering pit in my stomach, but underneath it, there's something else—a determination, a fire that won't go out.

I'll make them pay. I'll make them regret underestimating me.

This isn't over.

It's only just begun.