No one Hides from the Moon

Swirls of burnt orange spilled over the sky, drowning the blue. Rose Hill wasn't too far, it was a safe enough choice. Not far from the nursing home and a low crime area meant that with his covered identity, Dimitri wouldn't be found.

That was until my stubborn mind fixated on him and besides-

Nothing is ever fully concealed

I inhale deeply. Relief mingles with victory, cleansing me of the evil that had burdened us for far too long. A content smile shines bravely on my face as I scavenge through my bag in search of my phone.

In it's place I find a note that reads, "7:00. The secret spot atop the hill. Don't think that I've forgotten."

My grin grows larger, paining my cheeks.

My birthday.

It all seemed so trivial after the year we've had. It completely flew out of my mind-

My eyes widen as I realise the damning mistake I've made.

I turn on my phone to be greeted by 35 missed phone calls from my mother. Cursing myself, I immediately call her back.

I never realised how ominous the rings of a phone were until this moment where I await her wrath.

She answers.

Silence.

"Mother, I-"

"There had better be a very good reason for this, Eleanor." She expressed all too calmly.

She never called me Eleanor.

"I know, I know. You have every right to be angry. I'm so sorry." I apologize, eyes closed in preparation for a scolding. "But I have great news. We did it! They're locked up, Mama!"

I hear her sigh gratefully, "I'll yell at you later, right now I'm just happy you're alright. For god's sake, Eleanor! How do you expect me to be calm when crime plagues your city and you don't answer the phone?" She stresses. "This is why I told your father I didn't want you going to that stupid school! It's too far and you're alone. But no, "It's prestigious.", "The opportunities!" I wanted to-" She mocked my father.

"Mother," I say. "I met a boy."

Silence again, but this time it was the silence that comforted your mind with possibilities.

"Finally." She said at last as though throwing her arms up, pumping her fist in victory.

"Whats that supposed to mean?" I ask, slightly offended.

"Darling," she begins to laugh. "I was convinced you'd die an old maid." A string of deep laughter deafens me through the speaker.

I was gutted, truly. "My own mother." I say slowly, dramatically.

"Oh stop!" She chuckles lightly, sniffling away. "So, what's his name?"

I bite the inside of my lip. "His name is Silas." I felt a wave of heat wash over my cheeks.

She scoffed. "Get a grip of yourself woman! I can practically feel you drooling!"

"I've only just said his name!" I gasp.

"I'm just messing with you, sweetheart. Tell me about him." She asks in that warm voice, such stark contrast to the coldness of my father.

"Well-" I begin before the clashing of doors being slammed and a stampede of officers stomping in sounds.

"I have to go." Without a reply, I end the call, arising quickly.

I stand, paralysed. There they were, cuffed and without a sliver of remorse on their faces. Sonders and Hart stand on either side of them.

I stare into Waylen's foggy, black eyes as him and Dimitri are shoved into the processing room.

In truth, I had nothing to say to him.

"Eleanor!" Shouts the elated voice of my friend. Swiftly, I turn to be gripped by Sonders tight embrace and I wrap my arms around her.

"We did it!" We sing in unison.

"What happened?" I ask.

"You'll never believe it. You'd think a criminal like Dimitri would have left the country by now after you escaped them last night. He was still at Rose Hill. When we bust in through his door to arrest him, we found him desperately trying to hide some file. Just checked it into evidence."

Rolling my eyes, I admit. "I don't care anymore. I'm just grateful this is all behind us."

"Thank god!" She cries.

"Day shift!" Hart announces, jumping on top a table. "We've gone overtime but it was worth it! We caught the sons of bitches that were dirtying our city. It's time to celebrate, drinks on me! Let night shift handle the rest."

The station erupts in applause and cheers. Sonders locks her arm around my neck, "Let's go! And where's Silas?"

A slow smile creeps up.

"Oh, I see." She says, eyebrows dancing, insinuating.

"Stop!" I shove her.

"Go! Go!" She pushes me out the door. I catch a glimpse of the clock.

6:50

Shit.

I sprint through the streets, warm-lit lamps the only light guiding me. Reaching the park, I climb up the hill till I reach the large, winding oak tree. I sneak through the vines that fall gracefully from it's trunk until I reach the secret lookout, the glitter of the stars sparkling against the dewy grass.

"Long day?" He whispers. I whip my head toward him. The silvery sheen of the moon dances in the deep umber of his eyes, luring me in. Doused in light, he wears black slacks and a matching dress shirt with a couple buttons undone. The shadows that did linger, sculpted him further, sharpening his features.

"Like you wouldn't believe." I say, a breath escaping me.

He doesn't say anything, a small smile in reply.

He gazes at me intently, the way he always does. Inquisitory brows, head tilted as his eyes trace the slant of my jaw and the curve of my lips, garnering every piece of information he can as though I am an artwork in a museum, where only he is a vistor.

"Why must you always look at me this way?" I whisper, slowly walking toward him.

"Do I make you nervous, Burroughs?" A smile, dimples studding his cheeks.

Rolling my eyes, the corners of my mouth tilt upwards as I return the gaze.

His fingers softly graze my cheek, tracing it down to my chin. Something faltered in his eyes. A spark of pain. "The way I look at you is entirely your doing, Eleanor Burroughs. I never stood a chance."

I cupped his face in my hands, smiling before my arms snuck around him in a warm embrace, where I felt the tension in my muscles release. "It's over. The police arrested Waylen, it was him all along." I whisper into the crook of his neck, smelling his musky scent.

I feel him breathe in deeply, relieved. "Thank god."

"I have something for you." He whispers with a breathy voice, pulling something out of his pocket. A small white box embellished with a pink ribbon.

My eyes widen, eyebrows rising.

"You didn't think I'd forget, did you?" He asks, smirking.

I couldn't remember the last time I was gifted anything from anyone other than my mother.

"Open it." He says, placing the box in my palm. My brows knit together at the kindness of the gesture. I lift the ribboned lid, a gasp escapes me.

A vintage golden locket rimmed with elegant designs. I swoop it up delicately and turn it over to see writing on the edges.

"Sanet tua vulnera amor meus, minuat dolores tuos." He recites in a bewitching accent.

Latin.

"Let my love heal your wounds, let it diminish your sorrows." He repeats, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I swallow the lump in my throat and look back at the locket. In the middle, the final line.

"Satis est mihi tuum ipsum esse, nihil minus, nihil amplius." He finishes, a melody to its finale,

"Your very existence is enough for me, nothing less, nothing more." Again, he repeats. The sincerity in his voice tugs at my heart. I don't ignore the pricking sensation in my eyes this time.

"I don't know what to say." My throat tightens.

"Then don't." He says, delicately placing a kiss on my forehead as tears stream down my face.

"Allow me." He takes the locket, twirling me around as I chuckle. I swoop my hair away as he brings the chain around my neck, the metal cold against my skin.

Hesistently, I bring my fingers to touch it as I tilt my head towards him. He stares at me fiercely, a hand cupping my cheek, thumb wiping my tear stained cheek. "Eleanor," he begins slowly, unclenching his jaw. "I am no martyr, no soldier. I am no honourable man. When I met you, my world was thrown off its axis. I have planned every inch of my life, relied on the fixed way I portrayed myself and to hell if someone didn't like it but you... You walked into that bookstore, an air of curiosity and colour- you breathed me back to life and best of all you didn't even know you did, in fact the whole time you hated me." He laughs, flashing his teeth.

His hands slide up my spine, cradling my head as his forehead rests on mine. The fire he ignited within me was once nothing more than a raging ball of fury... or so I thought, I should've known someone as clever as Silas would manage to slip through the cracks and transform this flame into desire, into longing, into so much more. The heat radiates between us, his lips graze mine for a moment, teasing me, urging me. My breath hitches as my lips slam onto his. I grasp his shirt, pulling him closer as our bodies collide, deepening the kiss.

His grunt of pain seizes me in my spot, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He says, shaking his hand.

I smile, bringing his hand to my lips as I kiss it. A long scratch follows his middle finger, I tilt my head in confusion, looking at it again for closer inspection.

"What happened?" I ask, lightly chuckling.

He smiles slightly, hand escaping my grip. "Lina's foster cat happened."

"A cat overtook you?" I cock my brow, stifling a laugh. "My hero."

I take his hand once more but he jolts away.

"It's nothing, really." He assures me.

I furrow my brows, eyes trailing the scar. "So, you were in Barton?"

"Visiting Helena and Lina, yes." He says.

I nod, a faint smile lingering. "You know, I still find it hard to believe that professor pushed Waylen off the Radcliffe. I can't believe that he was the one who paralysed him."

"Why? He was always a self centered bastard anyway." He scoffs.

My eyes slowly trail upward to meet his gaze. I stare at him through my brows.

"I never told you about what Gael did."

The moonlight, bright and revealing, cascades down in shafts onto his face, the shadows of night billowing behind him.

The weight of unsaid words hangs in the air. I do not dare allow the thoughts in my mind to manifest into fully fledged truths, I ignore them. I ignore every tingling instinct that tells me to run.

He looks at me for a moment, the angle of his head tilting. "Eleanor, are you alright?"

"Silas," I ask. "Where is your ring?"

I thought I had memorised every glint that sparkled in his eyes, every subtle quirk of his brow, the many ways his lips would curve into a smirk- every possible look his face could create and yet, the one he gives me now...

An eerie breath of wind ignites gooselflesh all over me, my heart thunders inside my chest. I abandon rationality, I abandon my brain, desperately relying on my paralysed body to do something.

I take a step back, arms slowly lifted at my sides as if to grab something.

Without another thought, I leap through the vines and sprint down the hill.

A queasy, unsettling feeling tightens in my stomach.

I've surrendered my mind to the will of my body, I do not acknowledge the swirling chaos that unfurls within, I do not dare confront why I am running.

Why am I running? Surely, I have gone mad. Surely, what I think I am thinking is all a figment of delusion that I have created out of paranoia.

When I see the light of the station, I exert the final bits of strength I have and bolt toward it.

My chest rises and falls as I gasp for air. I ignore the eyes that shoot toward me.

"Bring me to Waylen Chamberlain." I demand the receptionist.

"You need authorisation-" she begins but I push through toward the holding cells, a ringing deafens my ears, blocking out any other sound.

"Come to visit me so soon?" Waylen voices as he sits in a bench in the dark of the cell, Dimitri on the opposite corner.

"Shut up." I silence him, voice rising loudly. "What have you done?"

"I've already testified, no more questioning required." He slithers.

My fists curl tightly, knuckles whitening.

I breathe in slowly.

When we bust in through his door to arrest him, we found him desperately trying to hide some file. Just checked it into evidence.

Noelle's words boom in my mind.

I scramble towards evidence-

Empty.

Looking past me, I slide in and search for the file under the most recent cases.

I find a discoloured yellow package under Waylen's name. Anxiously, I open it.

Case File number 00578.

Cassandra Chamberlain, otherwise known as-

Cassandra Golding.

Born- 2nd of November, 1973

Died- 17th January, 2007. Cause of death, suicide.

Spouse- Waylen Chamberlain

Children- Silas Golding Chamberlain

My eyes widen, a coldness paralysing my body.

My heart thumped in my ears, hands shaking.

Waylen is Silas' father.

Everything, all at once, falls into place. All that I have ever known withers away and I realise...

That it was never Vincent, never Karvish Dalal, not Waylen or Dimitri but... Silas.

It was Silas all along.

"No." I whisper to myself, eyes shut tightly as I bite on my lips to stop the quivering.

"Yes." Betrays the voice that booms in the catacombs of my mind. "He was the one that gave you the letter, claiming it was from Professor when this whole time he murdered him then began taunting you, he wanted to get caught- but only by you. "

I shake my head, I shake away her voice.

" He was the one that slipped the gun in your bag. He led you into the crossfire."

I clasp my hand on my mouth.

"He was so calm when the police came. He fooled all of you."

My legs, limp and heavy, anchor me onto the floor.

"He was the one who knew all about the Oxford Four and their history. He was skeptical and bitter about the police since day one. He didn't show up to Osbourne's funeral because he was the reason why they were holding one. Who else but a student studying English Lit would be able to pull off such an elaborate ruse centered around Shakespeare? Who other than, Silas Golding, with his lethal tongue and hateful heart could construct such threatening prose and act on it? Who could simultaneously poison a man than slip into the bed chambers of an already smitten counterpart? Could assist on helping you catch the murderer when he was right under your noses?

...And who, but he, fooled you into thinking that he loved you?"

The words on the file contort, fizzling into a blur as droplets of tears smudge the ink, the revelations tainting my heart.

How could he?

How dare he?

My nails dig into the papers, shredding them viciously, carelessly- just as careless as he who toyed with my heart, with my trust. The tears stream endlessly down my face, no longer silent but angry. Angry as I sob, angry as I hurl everything in my sight at the walls, angry as I heave files across the room-

Angry at the world, angry at him, angry at myself for being the fool once again. I fall against the wall, my shaking hands cup my face in shame as I sink to the floor.