This is going to blow up.Get ready!
I stand outside, facing the ocean. The sun is starting to bleed into the early morning sky, gulls wheeling overhead, cawing as I lean against the wooden railing and wrap my fingers around the mug of chamomile. It’s strange that I have no problem being near the sea after everything that happened. All the watery deaths. Sage. Elena. Carl and Piper and Viv.
Strangely, it’s Viv’s absence I feel the most.
I don’t have my own social media page anymore, but I have access to @EmpressExposed, and the other day I found something peculiar in the Requests inbox. A message from a burner account—grayed-out profile picture, 0 followers, 0 following, 0 posts. The username VE081708. Two sentences:
Told you there would be an opportunity waiting. You’re welcome, Char.
When I tried to show Ashley an hour later, the page was gone:
This account does not exist.
“Probably a random person messing around,” Ashley insisted. “Don’t read into it.”
I assured her I wouldn’t. Even though the username had V and E in it—Viv and Elena. Even though the numbers could easily reference a date, like when they first met. Even though besides Sage, the only person who ever called me Char was Viv, and Viv said there would be opportunities for me after posting that video on theEmpresspage.
But Ashley is probably right. It’s probably nothing.
Absentmindedly, I let one hand slip from the mug I’m holding. I reach over and stroke the golden bracelet on my left wrist. TheCoast Guard saw it in my room with the rest of my belongings and naturally assumed it was mine. I think Elena would have wanted me to keep it. Someday, when I’m ready, I’ll visit her grave and leave the bracelet next to Elena’s headstone. For now, I’ve been wearing it when I’m alone.
I drag a finger against the cold metal. Whatever comes next, I am ready.
As I stare at the waves, an icy breath blooms against the back of my neck, chilling my heart. I grit my teeth, not daring to look behind me as soft, cold exhales kiss my skin. I clutch my tea and watch the water, ignoring the growing scent of bitter salt.
