"Redemption Riders: Passion and Power in the Shadows"

Chapter two : Sky

As I followed the winding road to the location Sara had sent me, my mind wandered back to our college days.

The memories of my two inseparable friends, Sara and Isabella, flooded my thoughts. They were the sisters I never had, and our bond had grown stronger over the years.

Raised in the looming shadow of my father's legacy, I had always been aware that my destiny was preordained. As a third-generation Harvard attendee, my path had been predetermined since birth. My grandfather and father before me were not just alumni; they were esteemed figures with their names etched into the annals of the university's history. Their contributions, both in the form of substantial endowments and captivating commencement speeches, had earned them a revered place within Harvard's hallowed halls. It was as if every professor's gaze upon me was filtered through the prism of their accomplishments, leaving me struggling to define my identity beyond the weight of their reputations.

My father, a renowned lawyer, expected me to follow in his footsteps. However, my heart yearned for a kind of legal practice that extended beyond the confines of corporate suits and boardroom negotiations. It craved a purpose that transcended the typical realm of prestigious law firms, one that would ignite a true impact on people's lives and safeguard the very environment we rely on.

I envisioned myself engaging in pro bono cases, stepping up to defend those whose lives had been trampled upon by corporate giants. I dreamt of standing besides single mothers who faced eviction for daring to prioritize a sick child's well-being over a company's bottom line became the cause I wished to champion.

It was not just about legal victories; it was about being a voice for those whose voices had been suppressed for too long.

"I can't see myself defending wealthy clients in high-profile divorce cases," I once confessed to Sara and Isabella during our college days. "I dream of advocating for those who can't afford an attorney, representing the underprivileged, and fighting for the environment against corporations that harm it."
Isabella, ever the adventurous spirit, had supported my dreams wholeheartedly.

"Sky, you've got the passion and determination to make a difference. Don't let anyone limit your potential. Be the change you want to see," she encouraged me.

Sara, with her gentle and empathetic nature, chimed in, "You have such a big heart, Sky. Your dedication to justice and helping others will take you far. Your father may have expectations, but you define your own path."

I succeeded briefly in that pursuit, but it didn't last long.

Our fates intertwined on that very first day of the semester, when we discovered we were all headed to the same lecture. I can vividly recall the scene: Sara and Isabela, clutching their campus maps, trying to decipher the maze of lecture halls. They were an intriguing pair, friends from high school with distinct personas yet an inseparable bond. Their brilliance and magnetic charm stood in sharp contrast to my upbringing, cocooned in a gilded cage of societal expectations. Every step I took was weighed down by the fear of societal scrutiny, navigating through life's intricacies under the watchful gaze of my parents, seeking their elusive approval.

Sara came from a blue-collar family, where her parents, both economists, had spent their whole professional lives in the banking sector. Despite their humble roots, they invested everything in fostering her future, acknowledging her sharp mind, hard work, and unwavering drive. With a slim figure, flowing chestnut hair, and vivid green eyes, she exuded a honeyed charm, but her willingness to champion her own rights and those of others was a fierce and motivating trait.

On the flip side, I've always had this urge to stand up for others, like an automatic response to unfairness. Maybe that's why Sara and I got along so well – we both felt strongly about supporting those in need. But unlike her, I found it hard to speak up for myself like she could. Asserting myself isn't exactly considered a great quality, especially for someone aiming to become a lawyer.

On the other hand, Isabella was our complete opposite. She resembled a lingerie model, with her slender waist and long legs, accentuated by curves that left men mesmerized. And she knew precisely how to wield that allure.  Always clad in skin-tight tops that embraced her flawless breasts and cleavage that compelled everyone's attention, whether they were male or female. Another aspect that occasionally triggered insecurities in us was her luscious jet-black hair, which seemed to fall perfectly into place after every wash or morning rise, as if freshly styled from a salon. In contrast to my own blonde and naturally wavy locks, hers demanded minimal effort, and it was a routine I couldn't help but envy. My mother never approved of letting my natural hair shine; she often said I looked untidy and bohemian.

Her mother was a proud holder of the "Miss California" title from 1995. When Isabella started college, part of her tuition was covered by her mom's third husband, as his son from his previous marriage was, in his words, not deserving of a single penny from him. Isabella was truly a free spirit and adventurer; she often led us towards the wild side of life. Perhaps it was her upbringing, her mother's path that had succeeded through looks, which shaped her. Despite dragging us out to parties at night, she would be the first to wake up in the morning and rouse us to hit the library, where we were usually the earliest visitors.
The road seemed endless, and the surroundings grew more remote. Doubts crept into my mind, wondering if I had taken a wrong turn while I was preoccupied with my thoughts. I had been driving for over half an hour on these narrow, unfamiliar roads.

Finally, I spotted the complex surrounded by a high fence. This place is literally in the middle of nowhere. It's so remote and tucked away, it's like God himself couldn't find it. The level of isolation and security is unreal. The fence, it's like some fortress, stretches far as the eye can see. How extensive is this place? And the real question burning in my mind—is this some kind of secret hideout? Cameras, security cameras, everywhere I look. What kind of staff goes down in a place that needs this much surveillance?

My heartbeat quickened, and I hesitated for a moment before the gate automatically opened, granting me access. I brought the car to a halt and gripped the steering wheel, torn between the uncertainty of entering and the urge to turn back. Was Sara really here by her own choice, or was this a trap?