QUEEN MARABELLA ISLAND(10)
1439 Words
CHAPTER TEN
The girls huddled near the cave’s entrance, their breaths mingling in the cooling air. Shadows bled across the ground as the last of the sun dipped into the horizon.
Miranda pushed her hair back with a shaky hand. “I was just with Clara. She said she heard whispers coming from here.” Her voice cracked. “We stepped closer, I swear she was right beside me, and then… I don’t know. She was gone.”
Annalise’s arms folded tight across her chest. “So, what…you expect us to believe she just vanished into thin air?”
“I don’t know!” Miranda snapped, wringing her hands. “But this is seriously freaking me out.”
“This is so going on my CamChat,” Beyoncé muttered, phone already in hand, her thumb hovering over the record button.
“Stop it!” The words burst from the others in unison, sharp enough to cut through the rising panic.
Beyoncé rolled her eyes but stuffed the phone back into her pocket, muttering under her breath.
Elina stepped forward, eyes fixed on the cave’s dark mouth. “Maybe…” She swallowed hard. “Maybe she went inside.”
“Why would she?” Annalise shot back. “Clara’s the last person to wander into something like that.”
No one answered. The silence pressed down heavily, broken only by the restless whisper of leaves behind them and the low roar of waves beyond the trees. The cave seemed to breathe cold air pulsing from its throat, brushing against their skin.
Finally, Annalise’s jaw set. “We can’t just stand here. If she went in, we need to find her.”
Reluctantly, they moved forward, one by one, their phone lights flickering against damp stone. The narrow passage soon widened into a cavernous chamber, walls slick with moisture. Drips of water echoed in the distance, slow and deliberate, like a heartbeat in the dark.
“Clara!” Miranda’s voice rang out, bouncing back to them in fragments.
“Do you think she’s okay?” Beyoncé whispered, her earlier bravado thinning into something uncertain.
“Keep your voice down,” Annalise hissed. “Focus.”
The glow of their phones caught jagged shadows along the walls, stretching and twisting as if the cave itself was alive.
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The hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses filled the air at Southside Bar, a cozy spot tucked by the bustling South Side Marina on Providenciales. The salty ocean breeze drifted through the open-air space, mingling with the warm glow of string lights as dusk settled over the harbor. Jace sat across from Zayan, his jaw tight, eyes fixed on him as Zayan swirled a half-finished tequila sunrise, the layered colors reflecting in Jace’s restless stare.
Tonight, the bar throbbed with life. Locals and visitors crowded shoulder to shoulder, laughter spilling out in waves as music hummed low in the background. It was the night of the Festival of Still Waters, a time for celebration, for stories, for forgetting. But at this table, the air was heavy, almost suffocating.
Zayan leaned back, finally noticing Jace’s glare. “What?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Jace didn’t blink. “Why did you leave Clara alone at the port? You knew no one would be there today.” His voice was sharp, accusing.
Zayan smirked, his tone dripping with casual cruelty. “What’s the big deal? Annalise can babysit her little friend if she’s that fragile. Besides…” he shrugged, taking a slow sip. “She could’ve swum back. She’s just pretending.”
Jace’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. “Pretending? You think she faked being terrified, just because you wanted to prove some petty point?” His voice rose, heat cutting through the noisy bar. “Or is this about Annalise? About what happened last night? Is this your idea of revenge?”
The smirk faltered. For the first time, Zayan’s mask cracked. His hand curled into a fist on the table, knuckles whitening. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice low and hard. “Annalise needs to pay. If that means using her friends, then so be it. I don’t care.”
Jace stared at him, disgust plain on his face. “You’re something else, Zayan. You’re mean. Ugly inside.”
He pushed back his chair with a scrape that turned a few heads, standing abruptly.
“Where are you going?” Zayan demanded, his tone sharp, almost panicked.
Jace threw a cold look over his shoulder. “To the port. To check on the girl you abandoned.”
Zayan watched Jace storm out, the scrape of the chair still echoing in his ears. For a moment, his jaw flexed, a muscle ticking as if he might follow. But instead, he leaned back in his chair and waved at the bartender.
“Another one,” he said, his tone light, almost mocking, as though nothing had just happened.
The bartender hesitated, sensing the sharp edge in Zayan’s smile, but slid a fresh glass across the counter anyway. Zayan swirled the drink, watching the colors twist together like fire and blood.
He tilted his head toward the crowd. Tourists laughed loudly at a corner table, a band struck up a lively tune near the dockside, and locals toasted the Festival of Still Waters. The bar buzzed with life, but Zayan’s eyes carried something darker.
“Clara…” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself. “Helpless little bird. Let’s see if you can fly when Annalise isn’t there to catch you.”
He downed the drink in one go, slamming the glass a little too hard against the table. Then he leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips. He would let Jace play the knight for now. When the moment came, Zayan would be the one pulling the strings.
For a long moment after Jace’s departure, Zayan sat frozen, his drink untouched, the condensation dripping down the glass. The bar’s laughter and chatter pressed in around him, but it all sounded muffled, distant, like he was underwater.
He forced a smirk back onto his face, muttering to himself, he’d be back. He always comes back. But his hand betrayed him, restless, tapping hard against the table, faster, sharper.
A pair of tourists at the next table glanced over, whispering behind their cocktails. Zayan shot them a glare so sharp they immediately turned away. He grabbed his drink and downed the rest in one swallow, the sweetness burning bitter in his throat.
Still, his jaw tightened. The smirk slipped again.
Somewhere out on the dark horizon, the ocean shimmered beneath the moonlight, stretching toward the island.
______________
The port was quiet, too quiet. Jace leaned against the weathered railing, the salt-stained wood rough under his palms as he scanned the empty shoreline. The tide whispered against the docks, but there was no sign of life. Zayan’s speedboat was gone. Clara was gone.
The water didn’t look normal tonight. Waves rolled in slow and heavy, as though the ocean itself were brooding, holding back something it didn’t want to release. Out beyond the horizon, Oceania sat in the fading light, its jagged silhouette dark against the bruised sky. Jace’s chest tightened. Even from this distance, the island looked… wrong.
He raked a hand through his hair, Zayan’s smug grin echoing in his mind. “Where could she have gone?” The words slipped out before he realized he’d spoken them. His voice sounded small, swallowed instantly by the ocean breeze.
A thought came to him, logical, grounding. Maybe Annalise came for her. That makes sense. She wouldn’t leave Clara out here alone. He clung to that possibility like a rope, repeating it under his breath until his pulse began to steady. “Yeah… Annalise probably found her, so she’s safe.”
Still, his eyes lingered on Oceania. He couldn’t shake the sensation that something out there was watching, waiting. The wind shifted suddenly, carrying with it a faint sound like a whisper, or a voice calling his name. Jace’s head snapped around, scanning the empty dock, the dark water, the shadows between the boats.
Nothing. Just the steady hiss of the tide.
His shoulders stiffened. He didn’t like the way the air felt, heavy and expectant, as though the night itself wanted to keep him here. He forced himself to turn from the ocean, his footsteps quickening on the wooden planks.
But even as he walked away, the island’s silhouette stayed sharp in his mind, looming like a shadow he couldn’t shake.
- Writer
