Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
It feels like a trap. Especially after what happened up on that path.
Do I really want to be alone with him right now?
But what did happen? I mean, really, what happened? I had a panic attack. I nearly fell over the edge, but he pulled me back. I convinced him to do the right thing and save the people down in that boat. Would they have survived if we hadn’t found them? I don’t know, but I doubt it. Why did he save me? Why pull me back from tumbling over and why listen to me when I begged him to go?
It might’ve been easier just to let me drop.
But maybe he hasn’t realized that yet.
I step into his room and look around. It’s plain, surprisingly plain. There’s a big bed, dresser, desk. No computer, no laptop, no TV. The decorations are mostly nautical-themed mixed with antiques. There’s a brass clock, brass-framed oil painting of what I think is Saint Parras Island, other small touches that look like they belong in a catalog. It’s not the biggest room in the house, but it’s comfortable, and it has its own bathroom.
He shuts the door behind me.
“It was a fucking mess,” he says, pacing into the room. He smells like sweat and ocean water, sea salt and kelp. His hair is brushed back and he’s limping slightly. I wonder what his lips taste like right now. “Those dumb bastards got wrecked in a storm last night. They were dehydrated, hungry, confused, and would’ve died of exposure if we hadn’t spotted them. And all for what? A cargo hold full of fucking rum? Nobody even drinks that shit. We’re not goddamn teenage girls.”
I stare at him, uncomprehending at first, before it slowly dawns on me. “Those were students on that boat? Students trying to smuggle in alcohol?”
He grunts and leans against the wall next to the window. “That’s right. They were a bunch of goddamn idiots and they should all be dead. I should’ve left them down there. Instead, I rescued my own competition.” He laughs once, sharply, a bitter sound.
“You saved their lives. That’s a good thing. Who gives a crap about the smuggling when human lives are at stake?”
His expression is pained and he shakes his head. “You don’t understand. The smuggling is everything. I come from a family that cares more about money and power than they do about people, and I was trained to destroy my enemies with ruthless efficiency. Swimming out there, getting my ass beat on rocks and their stupid boat, that goes against everything I was taught and everything I believe.”
“What do you believe then, Emilio? You only believe in yourself?”
“I believe in me and my family. I believe in the people in my society.” He steps forward, seething. “I believe in you.”
I take a couple breaths and pace to his bed then back again. “Maybe you were taught the wrong thing.” I pick up an old watch and look at the face. The glass is cracked and the dials are tarnished, and it looks ancient. I put it back down and notice more watches, some of them broken down, like they’re being repaired. I didn’t know he was into that sort of thing, but before I can mention it, he’s already coming over.
I back away as he sweeps the watches into a drawer and slams it shut, looking at me hard.
“Listen to me, pet. For years I’ve been the only smuggler at this school. The administration tolerates me because I bring in things they want, from teachers up to certain people placed in highly powerful positions. But if someone suddenly can do what I do faster and cheaper, then my base of power will dry up. I can’t allow anyone to get a foothold on his island. I will not tolerate competition.”
“Not very capitalist of you.”
“I don’t give a damn about ideology. Only about cold hard cash.”
“That’s insane. Who cares about money? This is a college, Emilio, and those were people on that boat. Why do I have to keep reminding you that human life is precious?”
His lips pull into a tight smile. “It must be nice to live in a world where things are so simple.”
“Human life matters. This world is that simple.”
He shrugs as if he heard me, but can’t imagine agreeing, and walks back to the window. He pauses, looking out. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. I never should’ve gone down that path. Now I’m attached to what happened, for better or worse, and the dean was asking questions about how I managed to get there so quickly. That’s the second accident—” He stops himself as if he realized he shouldn’t have said that and his shoulders tense. The second accident? Does he mean my sister is the first? “I shouldn’t have been on that boat when the rescue crews arrived, is all. Now I’m on their radar again.”