---
Avery's POV
The road was empty.
Too empty.
I stopped at the shoulder, hands on my hips, breath short and uneven. I glanced over my shoulder.
The lake house was no longer visible.
I started walking again, faster this time, forcing myself not to let panic take over. Every sound made me flinch—a bird taking off, a branch snapping beneath my steps, the wind threading through the trees.
I forced myself to think.
Don't run.
Running draws attention.
I remembered the route.
The signs.
The curve that was a little too sharp. The smaller road branching off to the right.
I counted my steps.
The minutes.
When I finally reached the intersection, my heart skipped.
It was there.
Exactly like I remembered.
The fragmented images I'd caught during those moments of half-consciousness—on the edge of sleep—had been terrifyingly precise.
I turned right without hesitation.
The road was narrower. Less maintained.
Less traveled.
Perfect.
I slowed down, settling into a normal pace, like I was just a girl out for a morning walk. Like I wasn't fleeing a house filled with secrets and unspoken truths.
I thought about the notebook.
The keys.
About what Gabriel had said.
You'll do it anyway.
I clenched my fists.
"You're overthinking," I muttered to myself.
An engine in the distance.
My entire body went rigid.
I turned around, heart pounding so hard it hurt. A car appeared at the end of the road.
I calculated quickly.
Too quickly to turn back.
I raised my hand.
The car slowed.
My stomach twisted.
When it stopped beside me, I saw the driver's questioning look through the window.
"Where you headed?" he asked.
I swallowed.
"Into town…"
He hesitated for a second.
Then he unlocked the passenger door.
"Get in."
I didn't hesitate any longer.
When the car pulled away, I looked one last time at the road behind us.
The lake house was far now.
But I knew one thing.
They were going to look for me.
It was inevitable.
It had to happen if I wanted to see the tip of the iceberg.
---
The car entered the city streets, and with it, a strange sense of normalcy hit me head-on.
Storefronts.
Pedestrians.
Voices.
Everything that didn't exist around the lake house.
I relaxed my shoulders slightly, without lowering my guard. The driver didn't speak. He drove calmly, as if picking up girls on the side of the road was part of his daily routine.
"You can drop me here," I said, pointing to a stop a little farther ahead.
He nodded without asking questions.
The car slowed, then stopped. I opened the door.
"Thank you," I added.
He replied with a simple nod before driving off.
I stood still for a few seconds on the sidewalk, scanning my surroundings.
No one was following me.
Not yet.
The town was exactly as I remembered.
Too familiar to be comforting.
I started walking again, blending into the crowd, letting my pace match everyone else's. Every reflection in a window became an excuse to check behind me. Every sound a little too close made me speed up.
I couldn't go home directly.
Not yet.
I needed to make sure I wasn't being followed.
So I took a detour.
---
The front of Shade Diner's appeared at the end of the street.
Red. White. The same letters. The same smell of overly strong coffee and hot grease soaked into the walls.
An unchanging place.
I slowed instinctively.
My heart did the opposite.
When I pushed the door open, the bell chimed.
An ordinary sound.
Almost comforting.
The conversations didn't stop all at once.
Not abruptly.
But enough for me to feel it.
Heads lifted. One. Then two. Then too many.
I froze at the entrance, unsettled. Something wasn't right.
It wasn't surprise.
It was something else.
An odd mix of discomfort, curiosity… and pity.
My throat tightened.
I took a few steps inside, trying to convince myself I was imagining it. That I was too tense. That the escape, the road, the fear were making me paranoid.
But the stares didn't fade.
Some customers whispered. Others pretended to focus on their coffee. A woman near the counter quickly looked away when our eyes met.
"Avery?"
The voice came from my left.
Sam.
He walked toward me, clearly surprised. His features softened for a fraction of a second… before tightening again.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
I blinked.
"I… I was just in the area."
A lie. Poorly phrased. Poorly delivered.
He studied me more closely, as if searching my face for something. A mark. A sign.
"You okay?" he added.
"Yes," I answered too quickly. "I'm fine."
He nodded slowly.
But his eyes said the opposite.
I glanced past him toward the office.
"Is William here?" I asked.
Sam shook his head.
"No. He hasn't come in today."
Silence.
He was still watching me. With that strange expression. Almost worried.
"You sure you're okay?" he repeated.
"You look…"
He stopped.
"Like what?" I asked defensively.
He hesitated. Then sighed.
"Tired."
I let out a nervous laugh.
"I didn't sleep. That's all."
I stepped further into the room. The stares were still following me.
"Sam," I said more quietly.
"Why is everyone looking at me like that?"
He froze.
I saw him swallow.
"What do you mean?" he replied.
"Don't pretend.
It's like… like I did something."
He looked away briefly.
Just a second.
But it was enough.
"Sam," I insisted.
"What's going on?"
He looked back at me. More serious now. Softer, too.
"You… you weren't home, were you?"
I frowned.
"How do you know that?"
Silence.
Heavy. Sticky.
"Sam?"
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable.
"Avery…"
"Something happened."
My heart started pounding harder.
"What?"
He took a deep breath.
"The police came by this morning."
The floor seemed to vanish beneath my feet.
"To my house?" I asked, my voice hollow.
He nodded slowly.
"They found a body."
I stopped breathing.
"What do you mean… a body?" I whispered.
Sam was looking straight into my eyes now.
"A body was found at your house, Avery."
The diner disappeared around me.
The noise.
The voices.
The smells.
All that remained were those words.
And one brutal, terrifying thought:
Killian.