Kalani stopped by a thick wooden door. A bar of solid wood rested in a slot across the frame, built to lock it from the outside. She lifted it quietly, careful not to let it clatter, then pulled the door open. Inside, the girls from the stage, and others we hadn’t seen, were mid-change. Dresses slid off bare shoulders. Fingers wiped color from lips and eyes. The moment we stepped in, the room shifted. One girl gasped and grabbed a blanket. Another crossed her arms over her chest, shrinking into herself. Right. I had brought men with me.
Kalani was already moving, scanning the room like she could tear it apart with her eyes alone. Will turned on his heel, muttering an apology as he grabbed Aran’s shoulder and urged him to turn around too. Whispers started almost instantly, rippling through the room in tight, hushed waves.
“Why is she back?”
“I thought they sent her away.”
“I heard she was dead.”
No one moved toward her. No one reached out. They just stared, some wide-eyed, some shaking, some frozen mid-dress like mannequins. Kalani grabbed a faded nightgown from a hook on the wall and held it to her chest.
“You shouldn’t have come back,” one girl said, her voice raw.
There was something unspoken between the girls. A closeness forged not by affection, but by shared pain. I could feel it in the air, the bond between them. The bond between survivors. But beneath it all, something darker sat. Like they already knew how it would end. Like they’d seen it before. And hated that they’d have to see it again.
Kalani didn’t respond. Her mouth opened like she meant to speak, but no sound came. Then her gaze caught on a girl near the back, curled on a stool, too small for that place, too young. Couldn’t have been older than twelve. Kalani moved toward her slowly, lowering herself to her knees like approaching a spooked animal, hand outstretched but not touching.
“Please,” she pleaded. “Come with us, Isabella”
The girl looked at her, eyes wide and unblinking. For a heartbeat, I truly believed she might say yes. Her fingers twitched in her lap, like her body was seconds from remembering how to reach for freedom. But she didn’t. She pulled away and shook her head, lips pressed together in a silent no, tears welling without spilling.
“There’s a life out there,” Kalani urged, her voice crumbling. “There’s sun. And grass. And freedom. You don’t have to stay here, Bella. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
Some of the girls shifted, like the wordfreedomhad cracked something open within them, even if just for a moment. But none of them moved. Whatever hope Kalani had tried to light in them, fear smothered before it could spread.
Then a door creaked open, and everything stilled. The sound of heels behind me echoed across the floor. No one dared to look up. I felt Will shift beside me, and Aran stood taller. But none of that mattered. The woman who entered didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. The room obeyed her the moment she crossed the threshold. The girls bowed their heads in perfect unison, eyes to the floor, backs rigid.
“Mother,” they all murmured.
She smiled then, a soft, curated thing, so sugar-sweet it made my stomach turn. The kind of smile that knew it didn’t need to bare teeth to threaten. The kind that cut without ever raising its voice. Her gaze slid over Aran and Will like they weren’t even worth noticing, then landed on Kalani and stayed there.
“I see my sweet Kalani has returned,” she said, her voice syrupy.
Kalani didn’t move. Her fingers tightened on the nightgown until the knuckles whitened. Mother’s smile widened as she turned toward me and the boys again.
“And you’ve brought friends. How lovely to make your—”
“I’m not coming back,” Kalani interjected.
Mother’s smile flickered, then it slid back into place. “You’ll see,” she purred. “You were always meant to come back. To come home.” She turned to the other girls. “Girls, you see? Kalani has realized where she belongs.”
No one looked up. They stayed in the posture they’d been taught, heads bowed, shoulders small, eyes on the floor. It wasn’t reverence. It was survival. And I think the reason they didn’t even try to leave, was that they feared leaving more than staying. And not all of them would be as lucky as Kalani, to run into someone who would protect them. Their response to the situation made sense, and somehow that made it worse.
“You’ve broken them,” Kalani said, and this time her voice didn’t crack. It cut. “They don’t even see a life outside this place anymore.”
Mother’s face didn’t change. “If you wish to leave, Kalani, then go,” she said. “But the others do not wish to leave. My girls are safe here. With me.”
“I only came back for Licia,” Kalani said. “And I’m not leaving without her. So, where is she?”
Mother turned her head slowly. “Who, my dear?”
“Licia.” The name left Kalani like a hiss. “Where is she?”
For a second something flared through her expression. Not fear. Not guilt. A colder shade, irritation, like the question was an annoyance. She blinked slowly, the practiced beat of someone buying time.
“I don’t know who you mean,” she said finally.
“Liar!” Kalani snapped, the word tearing out of her.
