The Moonlit Heiress

Chapter 2: The Mark Under the Moon.

The diner felt to shrink further, its walls closing in on Clara as if to swallow her up whole with words suspended in the air from this stranger that churned a hurricane in her head: Isabella Hayes. My real family. She hyperventilated.

"You need to leave," Alex repeated, the keenness in his voice rivaling that of a steel blade.

He stepped between Clara and the man, the breadth of his frame shielding her with an overcast shadow.

The stranger stood his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm not looking for trouble," he said, his eyes darting to Clara. "I've come to help."

"Help?" Clara's voice broke. "By popping out of nowhere and telling me I've lived a lie?

"It is not a lie," the man said urgently. "You were taken as a child. The Hayes family has been looking for you for years. Your grandmother..."

"I think we're done here," Alex cut in, his voice low, a growl.

The man winced, squinting slightly. "You think you are able to protect her?" he asked, the challenge dripping from his voice. "Do you even know who you're dealing with?"

"I know enough," Alex snapped, "now leave before I make you.

The man hesitated but must have seen something in Alex's eyes that veered him off pressing his luck.

He turned to Clara, his expression softening. "If you want answers, go to the inn at the edge of town. Ask for Detective Harris."

He made a movement in his pocket and pulled out a card and then dropped it on the table.

And, he just disappeared beyond the door, that bell above jingling in his wake.

She slouched into the vinyl booth, hands shaking like leaves, and took the card. Detective Harris. That name rang no bells, but no escaping the weight of his words.

Alex slid into the seat across the table from her, his face impassive. "You don't have to listen to him," he said softly.

"What if he's telling the truth?" Clara whispered, her voice barely audible. "What if I'm someone else?"

Alex leaned forward, his intense gaze locking onto hers. "You're Clara James," he said firmly. "The person you've been your whole life doesn't change because some stranger says otherwise."

But what if it does?" This time she had stared back, and for the first time he caught the terror peeking back at him from behind the bravado, "What if everything I thought I knew about myself was a lie?"

The silence between them stretched almost as thick as the unspoken thoughts before Alex lifted his hand and touched the back of his fingers to hers.

"Whatever's going on, we'll figure it out."

Clara wanted to believe him, there was a churning ocean of doubt swirling inside her head.

Clara's feet moved of their own accord, pulling her up cliffs overlooking the ocean, and maybe to some degree, her infuriated mind seemed to pace right along. The moon cast its silver across the churning waves below. Clara wrapped her arms around herself and shivered in the wind; her mind was simply not in a state to set questions straight. Was this stranger right, and was she really Isabella Hayes?

She reached for the crescent-shaped birthmark on her wrist-one she had never given a second thought to. Now, it feels like a missing piece of a puzzle. What if that wasn't just a mark? What if that was a sign?

Behind her, she heard the sound of footsteps. She turned; her heart leapt into her throat. Alex was there, hands in pockets, unreadable.

"I thought you might come here," he said.

"How?" Clara asked in little more than a whisper.

"You have that look," he said, his lips twitching in the faintest smile. "The kind of look people get when they're trying to outrun something they can't escape."

"I don't know who I am anymore."

"You're tougher than you know," Alex said more firmly. "Whatever this is, you'll face it. And you'll come out the other side even stronger."

She looked at him-something in his face pinched her chest. "Why would you care?" she asked. "You don't even know me.

Maybe I don't, he conceded. But I know how it is to be lost. To wonder if you ever will find a place for yourself. His jaw clamped, his face a flicker of vulnerability. And I know you are worth saving.

Clara had nothing to say to that. She turned toward the sea, the waves churning beneath her a reflection of what was inside of her.

The silence between them was broken by a low, distant howl that sent a chill racing down Clara's spine. She glanced at Alex, expecting him to laugh it off, but his expression darkened, his body tensing.

"Get back to the diner," he said, his voice low and urgent.

"Why?" Clara asked, her heart pounding.

"Now, Clara," he said, his eyes scanning the dark forest beyond the cliffs. "We're not alone."