The next few days were a blur of anxiety and forced smiles. I continued my performances at the carnival, plastering on a cheerful facade while inside, I was a tangled mess of fear and anger. James kept me updated on his efforts to gather information on Wilson, but so far, he hadn't found anything concrete.
Then, late one afternoon, a text message from an unknown number flashed on my phone: "Meet me. The Coffee Bean near the library. 7 PM. Don't be late." A shiver ran down my spine. I knew who it was. Wilson.
My hands trembled as I typed a reply: "Who is this?"
The response came instantly: "You know who it is. Be there."
My heart hammered against my ribs. This was it. The moment of truth. I glanced at the clock. 6:30 PM. I had thirty minutes to prepare myself for whatever Wilson had in store.
I debated telling James, but decided against it. He would try to come with me, and that would only complicate things. This was something I had to do on my own.
I changed out of my carnival costume and into something less conspicuous – jeans, a black t-shirt, and a hoodie. I pulled my red hair back into a ponytail and put on a pair of sunglasses, hoping to disguise myself, even though I knew it was futile.
As I walked towards the Coffee Bean, every shadow seemed to hold a threat, every passing car seemed to be following me. My senses were on high alert, scanning for any sign of danger.
The Coffee Bean was crowded, bustling with students and book lovers. I spotted Wilson sitting at a table near the window, his blonde hair gleaming under the fluorescent lights. He was even more imposing in person than I remembered. Those red eyes held a cold intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.
I took a deep breath and walked towards him. "Wilson?"
He looked up, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Scarlett. Glad you could make it."
I sat down across from him, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. "What do you want?"
He leaned back in his chair, studying me with those piercing eyes. "I want to talk."
"About what?"
"About Grayson. About the offer he made you."
"You know about it?"
He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Of course I know about it. I'm Wilson, remember? I know everything."
"Then you know I don't have a choice," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Everyone has a choice, Scarlett," he said, his gaze unwavering. "It's just a matter of whether they're willing to make it."
"What are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting that you don't have to be a pawn in Grayson's game."
Hope surged through me, but I quickly suppressed it. This had to be a trick. "Why are you telling me this? You work for him."
"I do," he said. "But that doesn't mean I agree with everything he does." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Grayson is a brilliant man, Scarlett, but he can also be ruthless. He doesn't care who he hurts to get what he wants."
"And you do?"
"I'm not saying I'm a saint," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "But I have my limits."
"What are you getting at, Wilson?" I asked, my patience wearing thin.
"I'm getting at the fact that Grayson is playing you, Scarlett. He thinks he can control you, use you to his advantage. But I know you're stronger than that."
"And you're going to help me?"
"Maybe," he said. "But only if you're willing to help yourself."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Tell me everything," he said, leaning forward. "Tell me about your family, your friends, your fears, your dreams. Tell me everything Grayson wants to know."
I hesitated. This felt like a trap. But I was desperate. "Why?"
"So I can help you protect them," he said, his voice low and earnest. "So I can help you win."