Page 54 of Dark Island: Rescue
"He might even lock me away," Areana continued, almost to herself now. "Not in the harem—somewhere worse. Somewhere I'd never see sunlight or feel the wind. Or he might keep me close but distant, loving me because the bond demands it while hating me for what I've done. Can you imagine that, Tula? Being bound to someone for eternity who loves and resents you in equal measure?"
Tears were streaming down Tula's face now, hot and shamed. "I'm sorry. I didn't—I wasn't thinking?—"
"No, you weren't." Areana's voice was gentler now but still edged with pain. "You're scared and desperate, and I understand that. But you're not the only one making sacrifices here. I'm risking everything I have—my relationship with my mate, my safety, my happiness—to help you. The least you can do is trust that I'm not trying to sabotage your escape."
Tula sank back onto the stone bench, her legs suddenly unable to support her weight. The reality of the situation was a suffocating force. Areana was risking so much. Annani had promised to try but couldn't guarantee success.
She was going to have to leave Tony behind. Tamira. Elias. All of them.
"I'll have to go alone, won't I?" The words came out as barely a whisper. "That's the only way this works. One person staging a suicide. One person that the clan can extract."
Areana returned to the bench and sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders were touching. "We don't know that yet. The clan might devise something creative, some way to extract all of you, but you need to be prepared for the possibility that you'll be the only one who escapes. At least initially."
"Initially?" Tula looked at her through blurry eyes. "What do you mean?"
"It means maybe Tamira can stage her own suicide in a few years. Once the turmoil from your disappearance has died down, once Navuh has stopped investigating. If we space the escapes out, make them seem unrelated, it might work."
Years. The word echoed in Tula's mind like a death sentence. Tamira would have to wait years for her chance at freedom, while Tula escaped with her child.
"I can't even tell them, can I?" Tula said. "Tony, Tamira, Elias—I can't tell them what we're planning because they can't know about your communication with Annani. They will think that I really jumped off the cliff and died."
Areana nodded. "That's how it must be."
"So, what am I supposed to do?" Bitterness crept into Tula's voice. "Pretend everything is fine? Keep talking about the possibility of our impossible four-person escape while secretly knowing I'm abandoning them?"
"You're not abandoning them. You're saving your child." Areana took her hand and squeezed it gently. "You wouldn't go without them otherwise. I wouldn't have risked it otherwise either."
Fresh tears spilled down Tula's cheeks. "It still feels like betrayal. I'm choosing my baby over them."
"Being a mother means making impossible choices.“ Areana’s voice echoed her own losses, her own sons taken from her arms. "It means putting your child first, even when it tears you apart. That's not selfishness—that's survival. That's love."
Tula thought of Tony, how he looked at her with such devotion, such hope for their future together. How would he react when she died? Would he mourn her? Or would he suspect the truth?
And Tamira—her friend, who'd offered to take Tula and Tony along on her own desperate escape attempt. Who'd been planning it for weeks or even months with Elias, dreaming of freedom and finding her own child, who had been taken away from her over a century ago. How could Tula look her in the eye, knowing she was about to leave her behind?
Areana was quiet for a long moment, her gaze distant. "You need to act distraught, hopeless, which shouldn't be difficult since that's how you feel. That will make your suicide believable."
"That part will be easy." Tula let out a bitter laugh. "I already feel that way. It's the guilt that I will have a hard time erasing from my expression."
"I know." Areana's arm came around her shoulders, pulling her close. "The more believable your despair seems, the more convincing your suicide will appear. And the more convincing it appears, the better chance we have of eventually extracting the others. If Navuh accepts your death without question, if there's no investigationthat might uncover my involvement, then maybe we can use the same method again. For Tamira first, since she has the most obvious reason to be depressed. Then perhaps Tony, grief-stricken over losing you."
"And Elias?" Tula asked.
"Elias is more complicated." Areana's expression grew troubled. "He's valuable to Navuh. You, Tamira, and Tony, you are disposable to him. That's why Elias must be the last. Navuh would for sure investigate his so-called suicide. But that would be years from now. Your child will be a teenager by then."
Fates.
The thought made Tula want to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all. But what good would that do? Screaming wouldn't change the cameras in the tunnel or the guards on the island. It wouldn't make extracting four people any less impossible.
"I understand now," Tula said quietly. "Why you stayed when Carol offered to take you. Why you refused to leave even though you had the chance."
"Do you?"
"You couldn't risk Navuh's wrath. Couldn't risk what he'd do to everyone here if he thought you'd chosen the clan over him. You stayed to protect us. If you'd left, he would have torn the harem apart looking for accomplices, for anyone who might have helped you. Many would have died."
"No." Areana's voice was barely audible over the sound of the waves. "I stayed because I love him. I stayed because leaving would have caused more harm thangood. Because sometimes the cost of freedom is too high, not just for yourself but for everyone around you."
"And yet you are helping me."
