The truth had been spoken—but it didn't settle.
It burned.
Even after Mira's confession, the air inside the shack remained thick, suffocating, as if someone had struck a match but never let the flame die out.
Jaxon leaned against the rotting windowsill, his eyes locked on Mira like she'd grown a second face.
"You're saying you shot a man in cold blood," he said slowly, "and you've just been walking around like that's normal?"
Mira didn't flinch. Her voice was quiet, but steady. "It wasn't cold blood. He had a gun. Lena was bleeding. He wasn't going to stop."
"You think I wouldn't have handled it?" Jaxon's voice cracked with more than anger. "You think I'd let her die?"
"I panicked," Mira said.
"No," Ivy finally said, closing her sketchbook with a soft snap. "You calculated."
Everyone turned.
"What are you talking about?" Lena asked.
Ivy didn't blink. "I saw the angle. I sketched the room. I remember where we all were."
"Are you saying she's lying?" Cameron asked, one brow arched.
"I'm saying it doesn't add up."
Mira's eyes widened. "You're accusing me of what? Faking it?"
"I'm saying," Ivy replied, each word slow and sharp, "you weren't where the bullet came from."
Outside, the wind howled. Rain began to fall—sudden, warm, and hard—like the sky itself had reached a breaking point.
Lena pushed open the shack's crooked door and stepped into the downpour, letting it soak her skin. She couldn't breathe inside anymore.
Everything was unraveling.
The people she trusted were falling apart in front of her.
Viktor's face still haunted her—smirking, looming, violent. She felt the phantom weight of his hand on her throat, the heat of his breath against her ear when he whispered, You'll never leave me, girl.
She'd wanted him dead.
But she hadn't pulled the trigger.
So why did she feel like the killer?
Cameron followed her out, standing under the edge of the roof, watching her silhouette blur in the rain.
"You okay?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
"Do you believe her?" he added.
Lena turned, soaked and burning. "Do you?"
Cameron's jaw tensed. "I don't know what to believe anymore."
"Spoken like a true politician."
"Spoken like someone who wants to survive this."
Back inside, Ivy stared down Mira. Jaxon watched them both, unreadable.
"Ivy," Mira said, stepping forward, voice shaking, "I swear. I didn't mean to lie. I just… I didn't know if I'd get arrested. If I told the truth, it would've ruined everything."
"It already ruined everything," Ivy said.
Jaxon stepped between them. "Enough."
He looked at Mira.
"Truth or not, you waited too long. Now, we're all involved."
Mira lowered her head, lips trembling.
"I didn't ask you to cover for me," she whispered.
"No," Ivy said, venom in her tone, "you let us do it anyway."
The rain stopped just as suddenly as it started.
Lena wiped her face, staring into the night. Lights from a car flickered in the far-off brush.
She stilled.
Another flash.
Not lightning.
Headlights.
"Guys," she called out.
Cameron was already by her side. "You see that?"
Another flash of light.
Low, slow… like someone was watching.
"Get down," Jaxon barked, shoving Mira and Ivy toward the floor.
A black car rolled slowly down the beach path—dark-tinted windows, low growl of an engine too expensive for this part of town.
"Shit," Jaxon whispered.
"Mafia?" Cameron asked.
"No doubt."
The car paused.
Stopped.
A window lowered.
Something was tossed out.
Then the car reversed… and disappeared into the trees.
The silence that followed was louder than the storm.
They waited thirty seconds before Ivy stood and stepped cautiously outside.
Near the edge of the firepit, half-buried in wet sand, was a small white box.
She picked it up, slowly, carefully.
Inside was a note written in looping red ink:
"Lies bleed. So will you."
Under the note…
A photo.
Viktor's body.
Dead.
And all five of them… in the background.