After leaving the clinic, Boyd accompanied Rick back to his house. The walk was filled with a long, tense conversation about anger, emotional control, and the inevitable consequences of impulsive actions.
Rick listened in silence, his broken arm serving as a physical reminder of every word the sheriff spoke.
"You're lucky," Boyd said, keeping his eyes on the road, the weight in his voice unmistakable. "Lucky Julie is okay. Lucky Daniel didn't hit you in the head."
Rick's face was pale with pain and humiliation. He said nothing, only nodded.
After that, Boyd went to sort out the lumber distribution with Donna. She agreed to spare a few planks, but not without making it clear it wouldn't become a habit. He needed to be there to make sure no further confrontations happened.
And finally, he distributed extra talismans with Kenny. Door to door, seeing the fear etched into every resident's face.
His last stop was the church.
Father Khatri was organizing candles when Boyd entered, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the empty space. The smell of melted wax and old wood lingered in the air.
"Boyd," the priest said, turning calmly as always. "I heard about the fight at the shed."
"Everyone did," the sheriff muttered, pulling a talisman from his bag and holding it out. "Here. Use it in the basement until you can board up the windows."
Khatri took the talisman, his fingers tracing the carved symbols. "Thank you."
Boyd didn't move to leave. He stayed there, standing still.
"Things feel like they're falling apart," he said, more to himself than to the priest. "These past few days... everything's spiraling out of control."
Without waiting for an invitation, he sat down on one of the worn wooden pews. His body sank into the seat as if every muscle had given up pretending to be strong. His hands hung loosely between his knees.
Then he spoke so softly that it was almost inaudible:
"I can't."
"Can't do what?" Khatri stepped closer.
"Put Frank in the Box."
Boyd stared at his hands as if they belonged to someone else. Hands that had served in Iraq. Hands that had held weapons, pulled triggers, saved lives. Now, hands that trembled at the idea of signing a death sentence.
"I built that thing as a warning," his voice came out rough. "To scare people. To make them think twice before breaking the rules."
He paused, eyes fixed on the crucifix on the wall.
"Not to execute anyone."
The priest remained silent. He didn't offer cheap comfort or Bible verses. He simply waited.
When he finally spoke, there was no consolation. Only raw reality.
"Let's say you back down. Then what? What happens the next time?"
Boyd didn't answer. He knew where this was going.
"You warned Frank several times," Khatri continued, relentless. "What do you think people will do when you let him go? How do you expect them to keep following the rules?"
"Take Daniel, for example. He's already acting out of control. When he realizes there are no real consequences... how do you think he'll behave?"
Boyd snapped his gaze up. "Aren't you supposed to be talking to me about the virtues of mercy?"
"Is that what you'd rather hear?" Khatri shot back.
The sheriff jumped to his feet. "I'd rather not put a broken man in a damn box to be torn apart when the sun goes down! That's what I'd prefer!"
Khatri didn't flinch. Didn't blink. He just held Boyd's stare.
"I won't pretend this is an easy decision," he said, his voice far too calm for the moment. "But you built a guillotine in the middle of town, Boyd. What do you think will happen when people realize you don't have the nerve to use it?"
Boyd clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.
"You're a shitty priest, you know that?" the words came out venomous.
He turned, his heavy footsteps echoing as he headed for the door.
"Great. Now I've cursed in the house of God," he muttered, shoving the door open hard, the wood slamming against the wall. "Beautiful."
He left without looking back.
On the way to the station, he replayed the conversation in his mind. Every word from the priest echoed, hammering against his resistance.
The priest was right.
He knew it. Deep down, he always had.
The Box only worked as a threat if people believed he would actually use it. And if he freed Frank... all authority, all the necessary fear that kept people alive, would collapse like a house of cards.
But sending a man to die like that...
Entering the station, he went straight to Frank's cell. The man was sitting on the bed, staring at nothing. He looked up when he heard the footsteps.
Boyd opened the door without a word. He pulled a talisman from his bag and tossed it onto the bed. It hit the thin mattress with a dull thud.
"There's a shack about a hundred meters into the forest," he said. "Take the talisman, put it by the door, and live whatever life you can. Away from us."
Frank picked it up slowly, his fingers shaking. He turned it over in his hands, studying the symbols as if they might change meaning if he stared long enough.
"What are you going to tell the others?"
The sheriff didn't answer.
He simply turned and walked away, leaving the cell door open.
The sound of his footsteps fading down the corridor was the only answer Frank received.
---
After calming down — or at least pretending he had — Daniel returned to Colony House.
He stepped out of the vehicle and spotted Julie still in the same place she'd been when he left, leaning against the porch railing, her fingers nervously tapping against the worn wood.
When she saw him, she straightened. Took a deep breath. And came down the steps.
She walked toward him, her posture rigid, like someone who had rehearsed the conversation in her head several times.
Daniel stopped and waited. Her body language screamed nervousness — slightly hurried steps, hands adjusting her hair, the way she lightly bit her lower lip.
"Did something happen?" Daniel asked when she stopped in front of him.
"No," Julie replied awkwardly, glancing away for half a second before forcing herself to meet his eyes again. "After the incident, we didn't really get a chance to talk."
Daniel waited, letting the silence do the work. She had come to him. He'd let her set the pace.
Julie took a deep breath, like she was about to jump off a cliff.
And then she stepped forward and hugged him.
The movement was so sudden it completely caught Daniel off guard. Her arms wrapped around his torso, her head resting against his chest.
"Thank you for saving me," she said, her voice muffled against his leather jacket.
For a fraction of a second, Daniel froze, arms hanging uselessly at his sides, his brain processing the unexpected physical contact.
It would be a lie to say he hadn't worried about what she thought of him. The conflicted look on her face earlier had planted seeds of doubt he didn't want to admit existed.
He let out a quiet sigh of relief — low, almost imperceptible — and wrapped his arms around her, returning the hug.
From the porch, Fatima watched with a smile that mixed amusement and pride. She hadn't expected Julie to be so bold. The girl had more courage than she let on.
When they pulled apart, Julie's face was flushed, but she didn't look away this time.
"Why did you ignore me earlier?" she asked bluntly.
"I ignored you?"
"When you left," Julie gestured vaguely toward the motorhome. "You looked at me and just... drove off. Without saying anything."
Ah. So that was it.
"I wasn't ignoring you." He ran a hand through his hair, searching for the right words. "I was giving you space."
"Space?" She frowned.
"To process," Daniel chose honesty. "I had just broken a guy's arm in front of you. I figured you might... I don't know. Need time to decide if I was a protector or a psychopath."
Julie blinked. Then blinked again. Then let out a short, almost incredulous laugh.
"You're an idiot."
"Technically, I'm several things. Idiot's on the list."
She shook her head, but she was smiling. The kind of smile that eased the tension.
"I don't need space," she said, her tone turning serious. "Not like that. If I'm confused about something, I'll ask you. But don't ignore me again. Deal?"
"Deal."
That was when Kenny appeared, waving to get their attention.
"Fatima, the town's already gathered for the ceremony."
Fatima, who had still been watching from the porch, sprang into action. "I'll get Donna!"
She disappeared inside the house.
Moments later, the front door creaked open. Donna stepped out first, followed by a steady stream of Colony House residents. Men and women of various ages, some smoking, others talking quietly, all moving with the casual familiarity that defined the place.
Jim and Tabitha followed close behind, Ethan between them, holding his parents' hands. Jade walked alone, his gaze distant.
Donna waved at Kenny. "Let's go, people."
Everyone began following the deputy sheriff down the path toward town.
Along the way, Jim leaned toward Tabitha, speaking in a low voice meant only for her. Daniel, walking a few steps behind with Julie at his side, saw the exact moment Jim approached Kenny.
"Hey, Kenny," Jim called quietly, keeping his tone casual. "If we choose the town... where are we going to live?"
Kenny glanced over his shoulder briefly before answering. "There's an empty house. Near the diner."
Jim frowned. "The one where... where the little girl lived?"
"That's the one," Kenny confirmed.
The engineer didn't ask anything else. He just nodded once and returned to Tabitha, leaning in to whisper in her ear.
Daniel watched Tabitha's expression change — her eyes widening slightly, her mouth tightening into a thin line. She instinctively pulled Ethan closer.
He looked at Julie beside him and thought quickly.
She would choose Colony House. The freedom, the lack of rigid rules, the younger energy of the place — everything appealed to a teenager trying to escape her parents' overprotection.
But that place was a ticking time bomb of bad decisions waiting to explode.
"Julie," he said softly, leaning slightly toward her.
She turned her head, curious. "Hm?"
"If you had to choose right now... which would it be? Town or Colony House?"
Julie thought for a moment. "Honestly? Colony House. It feels... less suffocating. Fewer rules. And Fatima's nice."
Daniel chose his words carefully. "I just think you should really think it through before deciding."
"What do you mean?"
"Colony House has its perks," he gestured vaguely. "Freedom, fewer rules, more relaxed atmosphere. But it also has downsides you might not be seeing yet."
"Like what?"
"What do you think happens when desperate people have unlimited access to alcohol and weed in a place with no hope? Eventually, someone makes a bad decision. And in a shared space, everyone around them pays the price. Not to mention the lack of privacy."
He hoped that would give her pause.
Julie walked in silence, eyes fixed on the ground.
"I'm not trying to decide for you," he added. "I just don't want you choosing it thinking it's safer than it really is."
"I know," she said finally. "Thanks for worrying."
Daniel dipped his head slightly, accepting that as enough.
"It's kind of my hobby now. Keeping people alive takes less effort than burying them."
One corner of her mouth lifted in a subtle smile.
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