Breath Before The Fall
732 Words
The wind howled across the rooftop, swirling Pearl’s hair into her face, but she couldn’t move — couldn’t breathe.
The man stood before them, older now, worn and rough around the edges, but unmistakable.
Michael Adair.
Alive.
Prince stepped forward instinctively, placing himself just slightly in front of Pearl. “If this is a trick, it’s not funny.”
Michael’s voice was hoarse. “It’s not a trick. I didn’t die that night. But I should have.”
Pearl’s knees threatened to give out. “You were in the car with my father. Weren’t you?”
Michael nodded slowly. “He was driving. We’d just left the meeting where we confronted Gerald Royce and Clara Eddington. We had evidence. We thought we were safe.”
Pearl’s voice cracked. “But you weren’t.”
“No.” He looked away, jaw tightening. “They sent someone after us. I was thrown from the car before it hit the water. Your father… didn’t make it.”
Pearl’s chest caved in with the weight of his words.
“I thought you were just another file,” Prince murmured. “A name. A photo.”
“I was a ghost for a long time,” Michael replied. “Until I heard you digging. Stirring up what was buried.”
Pearl stepped forward. “Why now? Why show yourself after all this time?”
Michael looked at her — really looked at her — and something soft crossed his features.
“Because they’ll kill you next. Just like they tried to kill me.”
---
They sat in the art room after hours, blinds drawn, doors locked. The only light came from the warm amber of a desk lamp.
Michael talked.
Pearl recorded.
Prince listened, arms crossed, but eyes always drifting back to her — like he needed to make sure she was still okay, still solid and real.
“They paid people off,” Michael said. “Made up fake resignations, falsified records. Anyone who resisted either disappeared or ended up like your father. Gerald ran the show, Clara made it clean. She was the face, he was the shadow.”
“And now?” Pearl asked.
“They’re grooming someone new. Younger. Cleaner. Someone who won’t ask questions.”
Pearl’s stomach flipped. “Who?”
Michael hesitated. “Gerald’s son.”
Prince went still.
“No,” he said flatly.
Pearl blinked. “Your father wouldn’t—”
“He would,” Prince cut in. “If it means securing his legacy, he’ll hand over everything to me.”
Michael nodded. “And that’s why I need both of you. I can’t expose this alone.”
Pearl stood and walked to the window. The glass was cold beneath her fingertips.
“Everything I thought I knew… it was all a lie,” she whispered.
Prince came up behind her. “It’s not all lies.”
She turned to face him.
Their eyes locked — and for a long moment, the world fell quiet.
His voice was low. “I know what we’re up against. I know how dangerous this is. But I’d burn everything down if it meant keeping you safe.”
Her breath caught.
They were close — too close.
She reached for his hand. He let her.
“I don’t want you to be the one who gets burned,” she murmured.
He stepped closer, his forehead brushing hers.
“We either fall together, or we don’t fall at all.”
She felt it then — the charge in the air, the gravity of everything between them. A breath away. A choice away.
His lips barely grazed hers.
Just a hint.
A maybe.
A promise not yet made.
Pearl’s heart thundered in her chest.
She wanted more.
But the door slammed open.
Michael shot up from his chair.
Pearl and Prince spun around.
A figure stood in the doorway — a school security guard, panting, eyes wide.
“You two — you need to leave. Now. Someone just broke into the principal’s office. And they were asking for you.”
Prince’s hand closed around hers instinctively.
“Who?” Pearl asked.
The guard looked behind him, lowering his voice.
“They didn’t say. But they left a message… carved into the wall.”
Pearl’s mouth went dry. “What did it say?”
The guard swallowed hard.
“‘Truth dies tonight.’”
- Writer
