Chaos swept through Los Angeles like wildfire the moment news of Luna’s escape reached the public, but inside Deacon Sharpe’s dimly lit apartment, a completely different storm was brewing—one far more explosive and far more personal. For weeks, Deacon had tried to keep his life from spiraling out of control, balancing his loyalty to Sheila, his guilt, and the dark truths he kept buried so deeply he prayed no one would ever uncover them. But Luna’s sudden disappearance, and the dangerous whispers about who helped her, lit a fuse sitting directly at the center of his already fragile relationship with Sheila Carter. And when Sheila barged into his place demanding answers, Deacon finally reached his breaking point.

He was pacing by the kitchen counter when Sheila stormed in, eyes blazing, breath uneven with fury. “Don’t even start,” he snapped before she could unleash the first wave. His voice was sharper than she had heard in months. Something inside him had snapped—finally, inevitably—and the chaos surrounding Luna’s escape had pushed him across a line he swore he wouldn’t cross. Sheila froze, shocked. She wasn’t used to Deacon snapping back. She wasn’t used to Deacon’s voice carrying this much finality, this much desperation, this much fear.

Luna’s escape wasn’t just a scandal—it had awakened the darkest corners of everyone connected to her. Rumors swirled that she had help, whispers pointed to secret allies, and even more alarming, some insisted she carried information that could destroy multiple lives in one stroke. Sheila sensed Deacon knew more than he admitted. She always sensed too much. “Deacon,” she hissed, stepping close enough for her voice to slice through him, “if you know something about that girl running off, you need to tell me. Now.”

But Deacon couldn’t speak. He felt his breath catch, felt the weight of his own mistakes pressing down on him like a vice. Luna wasn’t just any girl—she was connected to someone from his past, someone he never wanted Sheila to know he still had ties to. And now, with the entire city hunting for her, Deacon feared those buried secrets were about to resurface. Sheila sensed his panic, and her anger twisted into something colder. “Why does this bother you so much?” she whispered sharply. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Deacon slammed his fist onto the counter, startling even himself. “Because this could end everything, Sheila!” he shouted, his voice raw, the words ripping out like a confession he couldn’t hold in any longer. He turned toward her, eyes filled with a torment she had never witnessed, not even in their darkest moments. “You… us… the life we’re trying to build. One wrong move, one wrong connection, and everything falls apart.”

Sheila flinched but didn’t back away. “Are you talking about us ending,” she asked carefully, “or something bigger?”

Deacon didn’t answer—he couldn’t. Because the truth was both. Luna’s escape had triggered a chain reaction that reached far beyond Sheila, far beyond Deacon, stretching into a dangerous web of family secrets, alliances, and past crimes. And worst of all, Deacon knew Luna didn’t run alone. Someone helped her. Someone unexpected. Someone Sheila would never suspect.

Meanwhile, downtown, police flooded the streets searching for Luna, while reporters swarmed Spencer Publications hunting for interviews. Poppy was hysterical, RJ was inconsolable, and Bill Spencer was furious. Rumors flew that Will Spencer had received a private letter from Luna before she ran—one filled with warnings, confessions, and secrets that had everyone on edge. And in the midst of the panic, Deacon realized something terrifying: if Luna had written to Will, she might have written to someone else too. Someone closer to him.

Sheila’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. “You’re hiding something that affects me,” she accused, eyes narrowing with icy intensity. “And if it affects me, I have the right to know.”

Deacon shook his head violently. “You don’t understand—”

“No,” Sheila snapped. “You don’t get to protect me by lying to me, Deacon. Not anymore. If Luna knows something that can hurt us, if someone helped her escape—”

“Sheila, stop,” Deacon interrupted, his voice finally cracking. He sounded defeated, exhausted, terrified. “This isn’t about you. It’s about what Luna knows. And if the wrong people find out what that knowledge ties back to…”

He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Sheila stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Tell me who you’re afraid of.”

But Deacon couldn’t say the name. If he did, everything would crumble. Past alliances would shatter. Old sins would resurface. Sheila, unpredictable and impulsive, would lash out in a way that could destroy them both. He tried to calm himself, gripping the edge of the counter, forcing his breath to slow. “I am trying to keep us safe,” he whispered. “I am doing everything I can to keep the life we built from falling apart.”

Sheila’s expression softened—just slightly—but it wasn’t sympathy. It was calculation. She realized then that Luna’s escape wasn’t just a threat to the Forresters, the Spencers, or the police investigation. It was a threat to her. Because if Luna had ties to Deacon’s past, ties deep enough to make him panic, then whatever Luna ran from might be something Sheila herself couldn’t fight.

Outside, the city roared with chatter and panic as sightings of Luna were reported, dismissed, reported again. Social media exploded with theories, some wild, some frighteningly accurate. And every time someone mentioned Luna’s name, Deacon felt the walls closing in.

When Sheila finally spoke again, her voice was eerily calm. “If Luna’s freedom threatens what we have, then we fix it. Permanently.”

Deacon’s stomach dropped. He knew that tone. He knew the dangerous spark behind her eyes. Sheila wasn’t talking about finding Luna. Sheila was talking about eliminating the problem.

He grabbed her wrist, desperate. “No. Sheila, listen to me—whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it. This isn’t the answer. Violence isn’t the way out of this.”

Sheila slowly pulled her hand away, her expression unreadable. “If you’re not telling me everything, Deacon, then I will find out myself.”

And with that, she walked out. Quiet. Controlled. Terrifying.

When the door closed, Deacon collapsed into a chair, burying his face in his hands. He knew what was coming. Sheila was on the move. Luna was in danger. And the secret tying him to Luna’s escape was inching closer to exposure.

The chaos surrounding Luna had pushed everyone to their limits—Will was unraveling, RJ was desperate, Bill was furious—but none of them were as close to destruction as Deacon Sharpe.

Because his breaking point had finally come.

And now Sheila Carter was about to unleash a storm that could destroy them all.