SAVING ALPHA THORNE: THE MOONBOUND PACT

~IAN~

The crowd closed in, their faces warping with judgment, disgust sharp in their eyes. A thousand whispers slithered through the air, each one cutting deeper than the last.

“I knew it! He’s been acting shady all day.”

“A poor, hungry, desperate thief.”

“Thief!”

The word echoed like a curse, bouncing off the walls and drilling into my chest.

Mr. Barry’s polished shoes clicked across the floor like a slow, merciless countdown. With each step, my heart thundered louder, like it might crack my ribs open. My palms were slick with sweat, knees trembling as I tried to steady my breath.

Suddenly, I remembered the video, Brenda, her guilty glances... everything.

Then it clicked.

Wait!

Everything makes sense now.

Brenda...

She was the one! She was the one who-

Mr. Barry was still talking, threatening.

“After today,” he sneered, pacing in front of me like a predator, “you’ll understand why people call me a no-nonsense man. When the police are through with you, you’ll-”

His voice faded beneath the storm building inside me.

No. Not anymore. Enough is enough!

I wiped my dewy eyes and rose to my feet, slow and deliberate, eyes zeroing in on the true serpent in the room - Brenda. Her smug expression trembled, just slightly. She wasn’t expecting me to stand.

But I wasn’t going to cower anymore.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, Brenda,” I said, voice low and steady, the words slicing through the chaos like a blade. “Stealing from the boss and framing me? Classic move for a chameleon like you. You always did play the victim so well.”

Her eyes widened for the briefest second before narrowing into slits. “What are you talking about, Ian?” she hissed, trying to mask the tremor in her voice.

But I saw it. Everyone did.

I took a step forward, the crowd parting instinctively. “I’ve kept quiet. Endured your jabs, your gossip, your little power trips. But this? This crosses the line. And guess what? I’ve got the receipts.”

A crack appeared in her composure.

Her fake smile faltered. Her hands twitched.

“Nonsense,” she laughed, shrill and unconvincing.

She spun to face the others, her voice rising. “Don't listen to him! He's trying to turn the tables. He's playing tricks. He’s just trying to save himself! Hahaha!”

But her laugh - too sharp, too forced - sounded like balloons popping under pressure. Nobody was laughing with her.

I reached into my back pocket, my fingers brushing the worn edges of my phone. “Not so fast,” I muttered, unlocking the screen and scrolling to the saved file. “Let’s roll the tape.”

I tapped play. The video began to echo throughout the room.

It didn’t show her taking the money.

But it showed her inside the boss’s office, crouched by his desk, her hands fumbling to close a leather bag. A bundle of cash slipped out and hit the floor.

She froze, glancing around like a thief in the dark, then snatched the bundle and stuffed it back into the bag before zipping it shut.

That was it.

But it was enough.

Gasps filled the room like a tidal wave.

Before the video could finish, Brenda shrieked.

“Give me that, you bastard!”

She lunged at me, hands clawing for my phone, her nails grazing my wrist.

I spun away and lifted the phone above my head. “Back off!” I growled, using my shoulder to block her. She tripped and landed hard on her ass, the air knocked from her lungs in a graceless thud.

She scrambled up and charged again, but this time, a thunderous voice cracked through the room.

“STAY WHERE YOU ARE, BRENDA!”

Mr. Barry’s voice.

She froze mid-step, as if struck.

“I-i-i... boss, I can explain-”

“Not another word!” he barked.

He turned to me, his voice like ice. “Ian. Let me see that video.”

I handed it over.

The footage played to the end.

Silence.

Then Mr. Barry’s gaze snapped toward Brenda like a whip, eyes blazing with betrayal.

“You sneaky little devil,” he spat. “You stole my money? You fucking stole my money, huh? And you were the one who came to report to me that Ian did. You're evil! Accepting you into this bakery was a huge mistake."

“Please sir, I-i didn’t mean to,” she stammered, tears springing to her eyes. "It was the devil! H-he made me-”

“Oh, shut up,” I muttered, too low for most to hear.

But Mr. Barry did.

“SHUT UP, YOU BLOODY LIAR!”

The sound of his hand slapping her cheek cracked through the room like a gunshot.

Brenda stumbled, clutching her face, her act disintegrating. No one moved to help her.

Mr. Barry’s hands shook as he wiped his mouth, glaring at her like she was filth under his shoe. “You’ll regret ever crossing me,” he snarled.

But I didn’t feel vindicated. Not yet.

Because while she stood there trembling, and the others whispered in shocked tones, I could still feel the sting of every accusing glance from earlier.

Still taste the fear in the back of my throat.

Still wonder what kind of world lets someone like her nearly destroy someone like me.

Memories of her atrocities flooded my mind. All of them!

My teeth clenched, my chest tightened, and my blood roared.

And suddenly, I didn’t want to walk away.

Not this time.

I crossed the room in three strides, the weight of a hundred humiliations burning under my skin. Brenda flinched as I got closer, but didn’t move fast enough.

CRACK!

My palm collided with her cheek, sharp and final. Her head snapped sideways, and a collective gasp followed.

She staggered back, clutching her face, eyes wide with shock.

I leaned in, my voice low, savage, and clear.

“That’s for every lie, every look, every time you made me feel small. Burn in your own venom, bitch!”

Then I turned and walked out, marching to my station, the silence behind me louder than any applause.