The waves outside Will Spencer’s Malibu beach house crashed violently against the shoreline, echoing the storm brewing inside his life. Ever since Luna Nozzawa escaped custody, Will had barely slept, living in a constant state of vigilance, dread, and hope. Her letter—still tucked inside the top drawer of his desk—haunted him every hour of the day. It warned him of danger, betrayal, hidden enemies… and above all, urged him not to trust anyone. He didn’t know whether to fear that warning or cling to it. But nothing—absolutely nothing—prepared him for what happened the night Luna stepped out of the shadows and into his home.

It began quietly. Too quietly. Will had been pacing the living room, reviewing security footage and trying to connect the clues Luna left behind. The moonlight filtered through the glass walls of the beach house, casting long, eerie reflections across the floor. Suddenly, he felt a shift in the room—something small, like the air tightening around him. Before he could turn, a soft whisper cut through the silence.

“Will.”

He froze.

His breath hitched.

And when he spun around, there she was—Luna, pale, trembling, wearing clothes far too thin for the cold night wind. Her eyes were tired but burning with urgency. She stepped forward, tears forming instantly when she saw his expression. He didn’t speak at first; shock held him firmly in place. She was supposed to be miles away, hiding, running, maybe even in danger. But now she was here—inside his locked home.

“Luna… how did you—”

“I had no choice,” she cut him off, her voice barely above a whisper. “I needed to see you. I needed you to hear the truth from me, not from them.”

He moved toward her slowly, afraid she might vanish if he blinked. “You shouldn’t be here. The police, the Forresters, the press—everyone’s hunting you. If they find out—”

“They won’t,” she insisted quickly. “I came in through the back. The cameras… someone disabled them.”

His stomach dropped. “Someone? Who?”

But Luna didn’t answer. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. Another letter. Another warning. She held it out, her hands trembling.

Before Will could take it, everything shattered.

A piercing scream erupted from the stairs—raw, loud, terrified. Electra Spencer, Will’s recent companion, stood frozen on the landing, staring at Luna like she had just seen a ghost rise from the ocean. Her face twisted with fear and disbelief as she pointed a shaky finger toward Luna.

“WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE?!” Electra shrieked. “Will—she broke in! She escaped from custody! She could be dangerous!”

Will rushed forward. “Electra, stop. She’s not—”

But Electra was already in full panic, backing away, shaking uncontrollably. “This is insane! Will, call the police! She’s a fugitive! She shouldn’t even be near you!”

Luna stepped back, hurt flashing across her face. “I didn’t come here to hurt anyone. I only came to talk to Will.”

“Talk?” Electra shouted. “Talk? You escaped prison, Luna! You drugged people, you lied, you manipulated—”

“That’s enough!” Will snapped, raising his voice louder than either woman had heard before. The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to choke on.

He turned toward Electra. “Go upstairs. Now.”

Electra’s eyes widened. “You’re choosing her? Over me?”

“This isn’t about choosing anyone,” Will said, trying desperately to calm the situation. “Just go. Please.”

Electra hesitated, then stomped upstairs, slamming the bedroom door so hard the glass rattled.

The moment she disappeared, Will turned to Luna, his voice softer. “You shouldn’t have come here. Not like this.”

Luna’s tears finally spilled over. “I know… I know it’s dangerous. But everything is falling apart. Someone is framing me, and they won’t stop until I’m silenced. Every minute I’m out there alone, they get closer. Will… I didn’t know where else to go.”

Will moved closer, and this time he didn’t stop. He wrapped his arms around her. Luna collapsed into his chest, sobbing into his shirt with relief and exhaustion. For a moment, everything felt still, safe, familiar—like the world outside had disappeared.

But peace never lasts long in Los Angeles.

The beach house alarm beeped softly. Someone had opened the front gate. Will pulled away instantly, eyes wide. Luna’s breathing hitched. Neither of them had triggered the gate.

A car engine hummed outside, headlights sweeping across the sand.

Then a figure approached the glass door.

Tall. Confident. Dangerous.

Sheila Carter.

Her eyes were sharp and predatory as she scanned the room, the entire scene reflecting in the icy glint of her stare. She spotted Luna first. Then Will. Then the faint glow from the upstairs bedroom where Electra still trembled.

A slow smile spread across Sheila’s lips. “Well, well,” she purred. “Looks like I arrived just in time.”

Luna stepped behind Will instinctively. He moved in front of her, blocking Sheila’s path. “Sheila, stop right there. You’re not getting anywhere near Luna.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Sheila said with a dangerous laugh, “I’m not the one you need to worry about tonight.”

Will’s jaw clenched. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Sheila leaned in, lowering her voice. “It means Luna didn’t come here alone. And whoever disabled your cameras… they’re already inside this house.”

Luna’s breath caught. Will stiffened.

Upstairs, Electra screamed again—this time not in fear, but in pain.

Something crashed. Something heavy. Something violent.

Will didn’t think. He ran.

Luna followed. Sheila did too, though with a chilling smile.

And the moment Will reached the top of the stairs, he saw the truth:

Someone had beaten them there.

Electra wasn’t alone. Someone—hooded, masked, and unmistakably hostile—was standing over her.

Luna’s warning wasn’t paranoia. It wasn’t desperation.

It was real.

The enemy was here.

Inside the Spencer beach house.

And the night was far from over.