「 ✦ THE PHANTOM ✦ 」

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THE RADIO CRACKLED through the car's tense silence.

"Good news for the residents of the Outer Banks. Dominion Power says their underwater transmission line, which will restore power to ninety percent of the area, should be functional within twenty-four hours."

MJ sighed, leaning her head back against the seat and closing her eyes. Another wave of sirens screamed past their parked vehicle, the sound making her stomach churn. Her nerves were shot. She wasn't built for this—not for high-speed chases or hiding from the cops. But she wasn't the type to abandon her friends either, especially not now, when everything was spiralling out of control.

A second set of sirens followed, their wail fading as they sped down the road.

"The state police have stated a local persons of interest, a juvenile from—"

Kiara's hand shot out, silencing the radio before the announcer could finish. MJ's jaw tightened as she bit her cheek, her mind racing. John B was wanted for murder. Not just by local law enforcement, but by state police. And not just him—her name was tied up in it, too.

"Let's game this out," JJ said, breaking the tense quiet. His voice had that sharp edge it always did when he was on the brink of losing it but trying to keep calm for everyone else. "Maybe you guys can help, being the smart ones and all, but... who are the cops gonna believe? Ward Cameron or us?"

The answer hung in the air, unspoken. Everyone already knew it. Ward Cameron—the rich, powerful developer who practically ran the island—would always win against a group of kids with nothing but each other.

JJ kept going anyway, his frustration bubbling over. "The accuser's a big-shot developer, lord of the island, governor on speed dial kind of guy. And the accused? John B, who's a homeless sixteen-year-old kid with no family left."

"Thanks for spelling it out, JJ," MJ muttered from the back, pinching the bridge of her nose. The reality of their situation felt like a weight pressing down on her chest, heavier with every passing second.

"Shit," Pope groaned, his head thunking against the window.

"Okay, man, hear me out," JJ started again, this time with a flicker of hope in his voice. "Yucatan. I'm telling you, that's the only option. What other options do you have?"

"Enough with the Mexico bullshit," John B snapped, his eyes blazing as he glared at JJ. "Sarah will bail me out."

"She did witness the whole thing," Kiara pointed out, cautiously optimistic.

"And she's gonna snitch on her brother?" Pope scoffed, shaking his head.

"Give her a little more credit," MJ hissed, her tone sharp. "Just because her family's fucked up doesn't mean she is."

"Not happening, bro," JJ said, doubling down. "We've gotta get you off the island."

"The ferry," Pope chimed in. "It's the only way."

"Yeah, exit stage left while you still can," JJ agreed as another round of sirens screamed past. The tension in the car thickened. MJ ducked down instinctively as the flashing lights briefly illuminated their hiding spot.

John B's voice trembled as he stared out the window. "Sarah's not a Pogue, though," he whispered, doubt creeping into his tone.

"Doesn't matter," Pope said, low and firm. "You can't stay here, man. Not with every cop on the island out for your head."

Unfortunately, Pope was right. As much as MJ wanted to believe in Sarah, as much as she wanted to trust that the truth would come out and clear their names, time wasn't on their side. The truth wasn't coming fast enough to keep John B out of jail—or herself out of trouble.

She tightened her fists, the weight of what had happened pressing down on her. She had fired the second shot. She had finished Peterkin. But no one knew, and she intended to keep it that way. If the truth about what she'd done came out, it wouldn't matter that she'd been panicked, that she'd thought it was the only way to protect them. The cops wouldn't care about her reasons.

John B shifted forward in his seat, his voice low and urgent. "I'm not running. I'm not leaving the Outer Banks."

JJ groaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "You're out of options, man! You stay here, and they'll lock you up. You leave, and maybe—just maybe—you get a shot at proving your side."

"We don't have time for this," Kiara snapped, her eyes darting between the road and the rearview mirror. "We need a decision now, John B."

MJ stayed silent, her heart pounding as her twin's words echoed in her mind. They were in too deep, all of them. And with every passing second, it felt like the walls were closing in.

Whatever move John B made next, it would decide everything—for him, for the group, and for her. And MJ wasn't sure if they'd all make it out in one piece.

The late afternoon sun beat down on MJ and Pope as they stood outside the ferry ticket booth, staring at the notice stapled to the information board.

"Ferry's closed," Pope muttered, his voice tight with frustration.

MJ's stomach twisted. Her eyes dropped to the paper pinned below the closure notice, her breath catching. It was a wanted poster. John B's face stared back at her, grainy but unmistakable. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as Pope snatched the poster, his movements quick and tense. He scanned their surroundings with wary eyes before crumpling the paper in his fist.

"Let's go," he said under his breath.

MJ nodded, her hands clenched into fists at her sides as they walked back toward the car. Every crinkle of the poster in Pope's hand felt like it echoed in her ears, a mocking reminder of how deep they were in this mess. She tried to keep her breathing steady, but her nerves were fraying fast.

They reached the car and leaned casually against the door, lowering themselves just enough to talk through the window to the others inside.

"So, bad news," MJ started her voice tight as she forced a humourless chuckle.

"The ferry's closed," Pope finished for her, shoving the crumpled wanted poster into Kiara's hands.

Kiara's eyes widened as she smoothed it out. "Are you kidding me?" she whispered, disbelief etched across her face. She passed the paper to JJ, whose eyebrows shot up as he took it.

"Well, John B," JJ said with a forced laugh, holding the poster up to the boy lying in the backseat. "Not your worst photo, but definitely not your best."

John B rolled his eyes but said nothing, his face pale and tense.

Her mind was spinning too fast, replaying everything over and over.

The sheriff. The shot. The blood.

No one knew what she'd done. Not John B. Not JJ. Not anyone. And she wasn't planning on telling them, either.

Reaching into her jacket pocket, MJ's fingers brushed against the small pill she'd been keeping there. She slipped it into her palm and downed it quickly, without hesitation, swallowing hard. She didn't care what it was. All she cared about was numbing the storm in her head for a few precious minutes.

Her jaw tightened as she thought about the poster, her brother's bestfriend's face plastered on it, the reward that could tempt anyone.

They were both framed—her and John B. And if they didn't figure something out soon, it wouldn't just be a poster. It'd be prison bars. Or worse.

Later that night, MJ sat on the edge of a dock, her leg bouncing impatiently. The moon hung low in the sky, casting silver light over the sprawling grounds. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, her twin's name flashing on the screen. She swiped to answer.

"You've got about two hours left until three a.m., JJ. What's the deal?"

"Change of plans," JJ said quickly. "We think it's better if you hide out somewhere until we can get to you. We've got a lead, but we need more time to lock it down."

"Hideout?" MJ repeated, leaning back against the railing. She scoffed, a sarcastic grin tugging at her lips. "Seriously? You're telling me to lay low? JJ, it's in our blood. Remember Dad's whole 'survival at all costs' training camp? This isn't my first rodeo."

"Yeah, yeah," JJ shot back, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I'm just saying don't do anything stupid while we figure this out. Please, Bee."

"I don't do stupid. That's your department," MJ said, though her tone softened slightly. "I'll meet you halfway once you have a plan. Just don't drag your feet."

She ended the call, shaking her head in mild frustration. If they needed her to hide out, so be it. She knew exactly where to go.

MJ slipped through the shadows, moving swiftly and silently toward the edge of town. The old, abandoned fish-packing building loomed in the distance, its decaying frame a relic of the Outer Banks' past. It was the kind of place no one dared venture after dark—except her.

The air inside was damp and musty, the faint scent of saltwater still clinging to the rotting beams. MJ found a spot in a corner, dropping onto an overturned crate. She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly as she tried to pass the time. She hated waiting.

The creak of a floorboard made her freeze. Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing as two figures emerged from the shadows.

Zaza and Kenyon.

"What the hell are you doing here?" MJ demanded, standing up abruptly.

"We could ask you the same thing," Zaza said, her voice dripping with disdain. "Word's out, MJ. You and John B are wanted. You think you can just camp out here and no one's gonna notice?"

MJ's jaw tightened. "I don't need a lecture from you, Zaza. I've got enough on my plate."

"Yeah. You're hiding out in a building that's one strong gust of wind away from collapsing," Zaza shot back, folding her arms. "You're reckless. Always have been."

"That's rich coming from someone who can't keep her nose out of other people's business," MJ snapped, stepping closer. "If you're here to play the blame game, save it. I don't have the patience."

Kenyon raised his hands in mock surrender, trying to diffuse the tension. "Alright, alright. Let's all take a breath. We're on the same side here—"

"Are we?" Zaza interrupted, glaring at MJ. "Because last time I checked, you were dragging everyone into your mess. And now, thanks to you, half the island's crawling with cops!"

MJ laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and cold. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I ask for this? Did I ask to be framed for murder? No. But you know what, Zaza? You don't get to stand there and act like you're better than me. At least I'm doing something."

"Something?" Zaza scoffed. "You're barely keeping it together. You're running around like a headless chicken, popping pills and hoping for a miracle."

MJ's face darkened, her hands balling into fists. "Careful, Zaza. You're walking a fine line."

Kenyon stepped between them, his voice firm. "Enough. Both of you. This isn't helping anyone."

The tension crackled in the air, neither girl willing to back down. But finally, MJ exhaled sharply, taking a step back.

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "You don't trust me? I don't care. But don't stand here pretending you know me or what I've been through."

Zaza rolled her eyes but didn't say anything more. Kenyon glanced between them, clearly relieved the argument hadn't escalated further.

"Let's just focus on staying off the radar," he said. "We've got bigger problems to deal with."

The air in the crumbling building was electric, charged with anger and frustration that neither MJ nor Zaza seemed capable of containing. MJ paced back and forth, her jaw clenched and her fists balled at her sides, trying to shake off the tension.

But Zaza wasn't letting up.

"You think you're some kind of martyr?" Zaza spat, stepping closer. "You're nothing but a spoiled brat with a chip on your shoulder. Always acting like the world owes you something."

MJ froze mid-step, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she turned to face Zaza. "Say that again." Her voice was low and quiet, the kind of tone that sent a shiver down Kenyon's spine.

"You heard me," Zaza said, taking another step forward. "You're a screw-up, MJ. And now you've dragged everyone else down with you."

That was it. The final straw.

Before Zaza could blink, MJ lunged at her, grabbing the front of her shirt and shoving her hard against the nearest wall. The impact sent dust and debris raining down from the old beams above.

"You think this is my fault?" MJ snarled her face inches from Zaza's. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped Zaza's shirt tighter. "You're the one who brought me into this mess. You're the one who gave me those goddamn pills. So don't you dare stand there and act like you're innocent?"

Zaza struggled against MJ's grip, her eyes wide with shock but quickly narrowing in defiance. "Oh, please," she shot back, her voice strained. "No one forced you to take them, MJ. That's on you."

Something inside MJ snapped. She slammed Zaza against the wall again, harder this time, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

"Shut up!" MJ yelled, her voice echoing through the empty building. "You don't get to talk to me about responsibility. You don't know what I've been through. You don't know what it's like—"

Kenyon moved to intervene, but MJ didn't let go. Her hands were shaking, her vision blurred with red as her anger bubbled over, uncontrollably.

"You ruined my life, Zaza," MJ hissed, her voice dangerously low. "You think I wanted to be stuck in this nightmare? You think I wanted to be running from the cops, framed for murder? You did this. You did this."

Zaza's hands clawed at MJ's, trying to loosen her grip. "MJ, stop—"

"Why?" MJ cut her off, her grip tightening. For a fleeting moment, something dark crossed her mind, something she quickly pushed away. She could end this right here. End Zaza, end the arguments, end the betrayal. But that thought terrified her as much as it fueled her anger.

Kenyon finally stepped in, grabbing MJ by the shoulders and pulling her back with a forceful yank. "Enough!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

MJ stumbled backward, her chest heaving as she glared at Zaza, who was now slumped against the wall, gasping for air.

"You've lost it," Zaza muttered, clutching her throat and staring at MJ with a mix of anger and fear. "You're completely unhinged."

MJ wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, her body still trembling with rage. "Stay out of my way," she growled, pointing a finger at Zaza. "You've done enough damage already."

Kenyon stepped between them, his arms outstretched like a barrier. "We're all in this together whether we like it or not," he said firmly, his gaze shifting between the two girls. "We can't afford to fall apart now."

MJ scoffed, grabbing her bag from the corner. "I've been falling apart since the day I was born," she muttered, slinging the strap over her shoulder. "But don't worry—I'll clean up this mess like I always do. Alone."

With that, she stormed out of the building, the heavy door slamming shut behind her. The sound echoed through the space, leaving Zaza and Kenyon in stunned silence.

"Jesus," Zaza whispered, rubbing her neck. "She's gonna get herself killed."

Kenyon didn't reply. He stared at the door MJ had just walked through, his face grim. "Or someone else," he muttered under his breath.

────

MJ had barely slept through the night. The damp earth beneath her and the cold, biting air that seemed to seep into her bones made sleep a distant, unattainable thing. She lay there, staring up at the canopy of trees, her mind running in circles as the events of the past few days played on repeat. The anger from her confrontation with Zaza still simmered in her veins, but it wasn't just Zaza she was angry at—it was everything. The betrayal. The lies. The situation she found herself in that she couldn't escape, no matter how hard she tried.

By morning, she had grown restless, her thoughts tangled in dark places. She had spent enough time hiding out, enough time being a ghost in the shadows, and yet the reality of it all still hadn't fully sunk in. She was on the run. 

A rustling sound in the distance snapped MJ out of her thoughts. She quickly sat up, scanning the trees around her, her body tense and ready for anything. But then she saw them: Kiara, Pope, and JJ, walking toward her, their expressions a mix of concern and determination.

JJ was the first to speak, his voice sharp but laced with urgency. "MJ, we've got a plan. We need to get out of here. Now."

MJ didn't respond at first, eyeing them with suspicion. She didn't want anyone's sympathy, but part of her was relieved to see them. They were still her friends, even if the world seemed to be crashing down around them.

Kiara's eyes locked with MJ's, her tone steady. "We're not safe here. We've got a boat—The Phantom. It's our best shot at getting off the island."

MJ raised an eyebrow, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "The Phantom? Do you think that's gonna get us out of here? They'll be watching every boat."

Pope stepped in, his voice calm but insistent. "The Maybanks don't use it much anymore. It's off the radar. We have a small window to get to it before they figure out where we're going."

JJ, his face tight with frustration, added, "Look, MJ, we don't have a lot of options. The cops are looking for you guys, and we can't stay in one place any longer."

MJ's eyes darted between her brother and the others. She hated how desperate they all looked, but part of her knew they were right. She was cornered, just like JJ. And like him, she couldn't afford to stay in one place too long.

"I'm not going back to that life," MJ muttered, her voice hard with conviction. "Not the way things were. I've had enough of being anyone's puppet."

JJ shot her a glance, his jaw clenched, but his gaze softened slightly. "None of us want to go back, MJ. This is just... the only way out right now."

Pope nodded, his voice steady. "We don't have to go back. We just need to get out, and we can figure it out from there."

MJ hesitated, looking from one face to the next. The weight of their plan pressed down on her, but there was a part of her that knew they were in this together. They had to stick together. And for once, MJ didn't want to be alone.

"Alright," she said finally, her voice cold but firm. "Let's do it."

Kiara gave a sharp nod. "We'll head for the docks. If we move fast enough, we can get to The Phantom before anyone notices we're gone. But we need to hurry."

With that, they turned and began making their way toward the edge of the woods. MJ followed at their heels, her stomach a mix of adrenaline and fear. The island that had once felt like home now felt like a prison, and there was no turning back.

As they reached the open road, MJ glanced over at JJ. He walked alongside her, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he stayed close to her side, his expression set.

"You good?" she asked, her voice low, more out of habit than anything.

He nodded, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. "We'll make it out, MJ. Together. We always do."

MJ didn't say anything in return. She didn't have to. She trusted him, even when everything else seemed uncertain.

They had a boat to catch.

The car screeched to a halt in front of the small, weathered shed where Luke Maybank had kept his boat. MJ's heart raced in her chest, the sense of urgency thick in the air as Kiara slammed the car into park. They were running out of time. They had to get to the boat, and they had to do it fast.

Everyone scrambled out of the car, their feet hitting the gravel with urgency. MJ moved swiftly, the cold morning air biting at her skin as she surveyed the surroundings. Her instincts were always on edge, ready for any threat that might come at them. The island wasn't safe anymore. Not with everything that had happened, not with the cops looking for both her and JJ.

JJ was already at the boat, grinning ear to ear as he threw open the door to the shed. "There she is!" he shouted, his voice a little too loud for MJ's liking, but it was clear how excited he was. "Hey, girl," he murmured, almost lovingly, as he pulled off the tarp covering the boat. The fabric fell to the ground with a dull thump, revealing the boat beneath.

MJ furrowed her brows, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the wall of the shed. She didn't share JJ's enthusiasm, not for something like this. "A 1983 Formula 402 SR1," he announced, eyes wide with pride. "The Phantom."

MJ rolled her eyes, her face a mask of indifference. "It looks like a normal boat," she said, her tone flat.

JJ shot her a look that could have melted steel. "You serious?" he asked, clearly offended by her lack of excitement. "This boat's a legend. The first one to make the run to Bermuda in under sixteen hours! Forty years old, and still the fastest thing this island's ever seen." He beamed at the boat as if it was a living thing.

"Wow," MJ said, deadpan, not sharing his enthusiasm. "Impressive."

Kie, who had been quietly observing, chimed in. "It's kind of a junker..." She shrugged, clearly not sold on the boat either.

JJ, undeterred, placed his hand gently on the boat's side, as if consoling it. "Really? You guys are killing me." He gulped dramatically, eyes wide. "She can hear you. Don't hurt her feelings. You wouldn't even be smokin' weed right now if this boat never existed, okay?" he added, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

MJ sighed, shaking her head. "I just hope it runs," Kiara muttered, putting a hand on her hip and eyeing the boat skeptically.

"Oh, she'll run," JJ said confidently, almost in a whisper, as if the boat might get offended if he spoke too loudly. "She's faster than anything the cops have on this island."

MJ didn't respond. The boat didn't matter. What mattered was getting out of here, and fast. The cops were hunting them, and the clock was ticking.

As she turned to help JJ prepare the boat, she heard the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle approaching. MJ's stomach dropped. She tensed, her hand instinctively reaching for the knife hidden in her jacket. Her mind flashed back to all the bad moments that had led her to this point—the violence, the lies, and the people who had betrayed her.

"Hey there, what's going on?" The familiar voice reached her ears before she even had the chance to react.

MJ froze, every muscle in her body locking up at the sound. Her throat tightened as she spun around, her heart hammering in her chest. There he was: Rafe Cameron.

She barely suppressed the urge to draw her weapon. The last time she'd seen him, things had escalated fast—too fast. Rafe wasn't someone she wanted to deal with right now, especially not with everything else going on. She glanced at JJ, who had tensed up as well, but Rafe was approaching slowly, deliberately, his eyes scanning the scene.

MJ felt a cold chill creep up her spine. She didn't know if Rafe was here by accident or if he knew something—maybe he was just looking for trouble, or maybe he had his reasons for being there. Either way, MJ wasn't about to let him catch them off guard.

She met Rafe's gaze, her jaw clenched. Her fists tightened at her sides, her mind racing with possible scenarios. She could feel JJ's eyes on her, waiting for a sign, but she wasn't about to let anything slip. She wasn't going to show weakness, not now. Not with everything on the line.

The tension in the air grew thick, but MJ didn't flinch. She was ready for whatever came next.

MJ's heart pounded in her chest as she backed away, panic rising in her throat. She couldn't focus on anything but the cold, calculating threat that was closing in on them. The anger she felt toward Rafe was a distant echo now, drowned out by the overwhelming sense of urgency. But seeing him again, feeling his hand on her arm, sent a surge of emotions she wasn't ready to process.

She spun to escape, but then another figure rounded the corner—Barry, grinning like a predator with a taunting smile, gun in hand. Her stomach dropped, and she instinctively took a step back until she collided with JJ. He immediately reached for her arm, pulling her protectively behind him, but it was already too late.

Barry's voice was low, cruel. "Well, well..." he taunted, his finger tightening on the trigger of the gun. "Don't think I forgot about me and you, on the side of the road."

MJ's breath caught in her throat. She hated the helplessness that swept over her, the fear that chilled her spine. Barry's scent—a mix of sweat and cheap cologne—invaded her senses as he stepped closer to JJ, gun still aimed at his chest. The situation was unravelling fast, and there was nothing MJ could do but watch.

Barry's eyes flicked to her, a sinister smile spreading across his face. "I'm here because I want my motherfuckin' money!" he snarled.

MJ's body went cold with dread, her hands trembling as she fought the urge to lunge at him. She couldn't. Barry had a gun. And if she moved, he'd shoot.

Just as things were about to get worse, MJ felt Rafe's hand grip her arm, pulling her away with surprising gentleness. It felt strange—this touch that had once meant so much but now only reminded her of the pain between them. Rafe's grip was firm but not harsh, his hold like a lifeline in the chaos that surrounded them. She tensed, her heart battling the conflicting emotions.

"Stay close," Rafe murmured, his voice low and steady, his breath warm against her ear. His tone was protective, almost pleading. The Rafe she remembered, the one who had always tried to keep her safe, was buried somewhere beneath the mess they'd both created.

She tried to pull away, to shake off the pull of the past, but Rafe wouldn't let her go. His eyes locked onto hers, a silent plea in them. "It's not you guys I'm worried about," he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. "Where's John B?"

The words sent a chill through her. She wanted to say something—anything to push him away, to make him feel the same rage she had for everything he'd done. But she couldn't. Not now. Not when things were falling apart.

Before she could respond, she heard the sounds of violence behind her—JJ grunting under Barry's assault, Kiara screaming at the top of her lungs. And Rafe... he didn't move to join the fight. Instead, he held her, almost as if he were shielding her from it all. His hand on her arm was tight and protective, and despite everything, she felt a flicker of warmth in his touch.

When Barry aimed the gun at her, Rafe's grip on her tightened, pulling her behind him, his body a shield. "Don't move," he said softly, his voice laced with desperation. "Please, MJ, just stay behind me."

Her heart hammered in her chest, and she hated how much she still felt for him—how much she wanted to believe he was different now. She could see the worry in his eyes, the way he was trying so hard to keep her safe. But it wasn't enough. Not anymore.

And then Kiara slapped Rafe. It was impulsive and reckless, and for a split second, MJ thought it was the dumbest thing anyone could do, but then Rafe staggered back, his expression flickering with surprise.

"I know what you did," Kiara stuttered, her voice trembling with anger. "You murdered Peterkin!"

The words hit MJ like a slap in the face. The accusation hung in the air, thick with the weight of truth that neither she nor Rafe had been willing to face until now.

Rafe's face hardened, and his grip on MJ's arm tightened as he shoved her behind him again. But this time, it wasn't because he was angry—it was because he was trying to protect her, to keep her away from the violence that was unfolding.

Kiara screamed as Rafe took a step toward her, his eyes dark and dangerous. But Rafe didn't hit Kiara. Instead, his eyes softened for a moment, filled with regret. "I didn't mean to..." he murmured, the guilt and pain clear in his voice. "I didn't want this."

Before MJ could process what he'd said, the scene erupted around them. Pope was charging at Rafe with a pipe, and a chaotic struggle broke out between the two of them. Rafe wasn't fighting back with the same violence he used before. He was protecting himself, yes, but there was something different in his movements—a hesitation. A reluctance to hurt anyone.

MJ's instincts kicked in, and before she knew it, she found a metal pipe lying on the ground. She grabbed it, eyes wild, and with one swift motion, she swung it at the back of Rafe's head, causing him to stagger forward. But it wasn't with the intent to hurt him. She was trying to break up the fight, trying to stop the violence before it escalated any further.

"Stop!" she yelled, her voice cutting through the madness. But Rafe didn't flinch. He didn't retaliate. Instead, he looked back at her with a silent plea in his eyes, his face bruised and bloodied but still holding that softness she remembered.

MJ's heart squeezed as she stepped forward, putting herself between Pope and Rafe. "We don't need this," she said, her voice shaky but firm. "We need to get out of here. Now."

Pope paused, his breath heavy, his eyes wide with the realization that Rafe wasn't the monster they thought he was.

Rafe's eyes never left MJ's as she pulled Pope away, her heart racing. She wasn't sure why she felt this way, why her chest tightened every time Rafe looked at her. But right now, all she could think about was getting out—getting her friends out—before things got worse.

"Come on," MJ urged, her voice sharp, and with one last glance at Rafe, she turned, pulling her brother and friends away from the chaos.

She didn't know if Rafe was redeemable. But right now, she didn't have the strength to figure it out. All she knew was that for the first time in a long time, she was going to have to leave some things behind—maybe even him.

As they sprinted away from the chaos, MJ's breath was coming in sharp, ragged bursts. Her heart was still racing, her mind reeling from everything that had just happened. The fight. The gun. Rafe. The way he'd looked at her, the softness in his eyes that was at odds with the violent world they found themselves trapped in. It was all too much, too fast, too overwhelming.

For a moment, she almost stumbled, her legs weak beneath her. Her chest tightened, and her vision blurred for the briefest of seconds. The adrenaline was fading, and the reality of what she had just been through hit her all at once. The chaos, the fear, the violence—it was too much to process in one go.

MJ reached into her pocket instinctively, fingers fumbling for the small pill bottle she'd stuffed there earlier. She didn't even need to think. She popped two pills into her mouth, swallowing them without hesitation. The bitter taste lingered, but she didn't care. She needed the numbness. Needed the escape.

As she swallowed the pills, she glanced back over her shoulder.

Her feet stumbled on the uneven ground as her heart twisted in her chest. There, standing just outside the wreckage of the fight, was Rafe. He was still on the ground, his bloodied face barely visible in the dim light. His eyes were fixed on her, the weight of everything unspoken between them hanging in the air. She could see the desperation in his expression—he wanted her to come back. He needed her to come back. But MJ... she couldn't. Not now.

She forced her feet to keep moving forward, her eyes trained ahead. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, but the drugs were starting to take effect, the high slowly creeping in. Her mind was beginning to cloud, the chaos of everything that had happened fading into a distant buzz. Her heart was still pounding, but now it felt muffled, distant.

"Keep moving, MJ," she muttered to herself under her breath, as if saying it would make it true. She couldn't help him. Not like this. Not after everything. She wasn't strong enough for that. Not yet.

But then her feet faltered again as her mind lingered on Rafe. His face. The way he had protected her. The way he still looked at her like he cared. But she knew better than to go back. It was a trap. It always had been. She couldn't afford to fall for it again.

The pills were kicking in faster now. Her senses were dulling, and the sharp edges of reality starting to soften. Her racing thoughts slowed, and the ache in her chest—the one she had carried for so long when it came to Rafe—began to fade. For the first time in what felt like forever, the pain was numbed.

She heard Kiara's voice call out from ahead, snapping her out of her spiralling thoughts. "MJ, come on! We need to move faster!"

MJ nodded, her body moving automatically, almost on autopilot. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this detached, but at that moment, she didn't care.

They had to get away. And that's all that mattered.

────

As the group hurriedly made their way toward the boat, MJ's mind was a blur. Her hands shook slightly as she tried to focus on untangling the rope that held the boat to the dock. Every movement felt heavy like she was wading through quicksand, the fog from the pills creeping in and dulling her senses. She could barely remember what had just happened—just flashes of the chaos, of running, of Rafe... but the pills helped to numb it all, even if it was just temporary.

"Come on, MJ, focus!" JJ called out, his voice sharp. He was by her side, moving faster, but she couldn't keep up. Her thoughts kept slipping, like water through her fingers.

She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself, and took a deep breath. "Yeah, yeah, I'm on it." She muttered the words as she finally untied the rope, the knot slipping free in her hands, but she felt dizzy, unsteady.

Kiara's voice cut through the air, her tone anxious as she glanced around. "Dude, where is he!?"

MJ felt a sharp pang in her chest at the sound of Kiara's voice. John B was still missing, and as the sirens began to wail in the distance, MJ's unease deepened. But the pills were already working their magic, dulling the worry, and making it easier to pretend everything was fine.

JJ was focused, his usual cocky confidence cutting through the tension as he worked to get the boat ready. He turned to MJ, brow furrowed. "We need to go, MJ."

She nodded, her eyes darting to the others. She could feel their gaze on her—Kiara, Pope, even JJ. Something about the way they were looking at her made her stomach twist. They had been here before.

"You okay?" Kiara asked, her voice quiet, laced with concern. MJ could feel the weight of it, even through the haze.

"I'm fine," MJ lied, forcing a smile, but the words tasted wrong in her mouth. She didn't feel fine—not at all. Her head was spinning, and her heart was beating too fast.

But Kiara wasn't fooled. "MJ," she said, her voice low, but firm. "You're not fine."

MJ's breath hitched. She knew what they were seeing now—her pupils were too wide, her movements sluggish. She'd taken more pills than she should have, trying to outrun the pain. And now, it was catching up with her.

JJ's face hardened as he looked at his sister. "MJ, you're high. We need to get you help."

"I'm fine, JJ," she snapped, her voice shaking as she tried to stand taller. "I don't need help."

But JJ wasn't having it. "MJ, stop." He stepped forward, his hand on her shoulder, grounding her in the moment. "This isn't safe. You're not coming with us like this. You need medical help. Now."

She shook her head, desperate to push them away, to keep the world at arm's length. "I can handle it," she muttered, though her hands trembled.

Kiara shot JJ a look, one that MJ could barely process in her foggy state. "She's not okay, JJ. We have to get her somewhere safe."

Pope stepped in, his expression more serious than MJ had ever seen it. "We can't just let her go like this," he said, glancing back toward the others. "She needs help, JJ. We can't just keep running."

JJ ran a hand through his hair, frustrated but understanding. "I know, I know. I just..."

MJ felt herself slipping. The pills were winning, pulling her under. She wanted to fight it, to push away the concern, but it was like trying to hold back the tide with her bare hands.

"Let's get her to a hospital," Pope suggested gently, his voice calm, but firm.

"I don't need a hospital," MJ mumbled, her voice hollow, her vision blurring as she tried to steady herself. She felt her knees wobble and reached out to grab JJ for support.

"Maybe we should just get her to the house," Kiara said, her voice laced with worry. "Just somewhere where we can watch her. She's not going anywhere in this state."

JJ nodded, his worry barely hidden beneath his tough exterior. "Fine," he said, his voice tight. "But we're not leaving her like this. Not again."

MJ clenched her jaw, hating the way they were treating her like she was broken, but the pills were speaking louder than her pride now. The world felt distant, and all she wanted was to sleep, to escape it all.

"Dude, where is he!?" Kiara exclaimed, running a worried hand through her curls. MJ shrugged, her eyes scanning the horizon as she helped JJ rip a tarp off the window of the boat. It was tough, but between the two of them, they got it off.

"Give him a second," Pope reassured Kiara, placing a box of food into the boat. His calm demeanor was unexpected, especially since he was usually the one getting worked up about things. But then again, MJ was the one who always carried the burden of worrying, especially when it came to her twin brother, JJ.

"He's coming. He'll be fine," JJ said with his usual confidence, but MJ wasn't buying it. She felt the weight of the moment in her chest. John B being late felt like a bad omen.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of sirens. Her stomach dropped. "Start the boat," she instructed JJ, rushing to untie the rope holding the boat to the dock. Her fingers fumbled, the knot seeming impossibly complicated under the pressure.

"Get back on the boat!" JJ shouted to Pope and Kiara. As Kiara went to untie the other knot, MJ noticed her slow movements, which caught her attention. Before she could snap at her to hurry up, MJ followed Kiara's gaze.

John B was walking toward them, looking unusually calm as he made his way over, a police car trailing behind him. MJ's heart skipped a beat. She had to give him credit. Not everyone could steal a cop car, but somehow, John B pulled it off.

"Shoupe let me take it for a spin," John B said with a grin, explaining the situation as if it made perfect sense. Kiara laughed and pulled him in for a hug, and MJ simply shook her head in disbelief, still trying to wrap her mind around the idea of John B getting away with it.

"Okay, I'll buy it for now," MJ said, even though the whole thing felt like a bizarre dream.

"Yeah, it wasn't easy," JJ added, tossing the keys to John B with a cocky grin.

But then John B looked around, his face darkening with confusion. "Where's Sarah?" he asked, his eyes scanning the group.

MJ felt a tightness in her chest at the question. Sarah was supposed to be here, but she wasn't. John B looked at them, his hope evident, like he expected her to emerge from the trees any second. But it wasn't happening.

"We haven't seen her, man," Pope said, his voice softer than usual.

John B's face fell. "Okay, well I'm not leaving without her," he muttered, the determination in his voice clear.

"John B, look at me," JJ said firmly, grabbing John B by the shoulders, and forcing him to focus. "I know you feel bad for leaving, but there's no time. You've got plenty of gas, and plenty of food. Once you get around that point, it's a straight shot across the sound to Dismal Swamp. Lay low for a couple of weeks, and then cross the border at Brownsville, okay?"

MJ watched as John B barely listened, his mind clearly elsewhere, probably hoping Sarah would appear any moment. Her heart clenched seeing the depth of his struggle.

JJ wasn't giving up though. He grabbed John B by the head, forcing eye contact between them. "Hey! You got that?"

John B sighed and nodded, barely catching the words as they left JJ's mouth. "Yeah, yeah. Brownsville," he murmured.

"Alright. Saddle up, saltwater cowboy. Let's do this," JJ said, slapping John B's back before hopping off the side of the boat. He reached out his hand to MJ, and, without hesitation, she took it, stepping down onto the dock.

As they prepared to push off, John B suddenly stopped them, looking back at the group. "Hey, I'm sorry for throwing us off a cliff with this whole treasure hunt thing," he said, his voice cracking.

"Hey, John B, yo, we were bound to run off a cliff at some point, right?" JJ said with a forced smile, his eyes glistening with emotion.

John B chuckled, his tears falling freely now as he wiped them away. "Yeah," he whispered, the sadness lingering in his smile.

MJ stood next to JJ, her arm around him as they watched John B prepare to leave. Pope pulled Kiara close, and the group fell into a quiet, shared moment of solidarity.

"We did it together, though. Pogue style," JJ said, his voice low but firm.

John B smiled weakly, nodding. "Pogue style."

MJ felt a lump in her throat. The treasure hunt had been more than just an adventure for her; it had been a test, not just of survival, but of herself. Of everything she could endure. And as much as she hated the idea of John B leaving, she knew he had to go.

"Get out of here! Please," Kiara said, breaking the quiet moment.

"I'll see you on the other side, John B," MJ said softly, though her heart was heavy. "I guess getting rid of you only takes one accusation of murder," she added, trying to lighten the mood, though the words tasted bitter in her mouth.

John B smiled back at them, shaking his head at the reference from weeks ago, back when things were simpler and they weren't running from the law.

"Now!" Pope shouted, turning to face the group. "We'll see you in two months, down in Mexico."

"Love you!" Kiara added.

John B paused just as he was about to climb into the cockpit, swallowing hard before looking back at them. "Wait. Tell Sarah I said goodbye, okay?" he asked, his voice cracking.

They all nodded in agreement, silently vowing to do just that. With a final wave, John B climbed into the cockpit and started the engine. The group watched as he sailed off, disappearing into the distance.

For a moment, they stood in silence. The tension was thick, but there was something else in the air—an unspoken promise that this wasn't the end. They'd see him again. They had to.

The sound of sirens in the distance snapped them out of their daze. JJ ran a hand through his hair, exhaustion taking over. Kiara and Pope stood awkwardly, unsure of what to say next.

MJ quietly slipped past them and walked over to JJ. The two of them stood at the end of the dock, not saying anything for a while. The weight of the day hung between them. It was always like that. They didn't need to talk; they understood each other without words.

MJ noticed Kiara and Pope at the end of the dock, their awkwardness giving way to a tentative hug. MJ smiled, a little relieved that they were finally addressing the tension between them. She looked at JJ, whose face mirrored hers—surprised but not exactly shocked. Then, before either of them could say anything, Kiara and Pope kissed.

The boat was long gone, and the quiet of the night settled in like a heavy blanket. The group had scattered, Kiara and Pope retreating into their world as they whispered about something MJ couldn't quite hear. She leaned against the weathered dock, feeling the cold air hit her skin.

She'd smoked earlier, just to take the edge off after everything, but now, the high wasn't just taking the edge off—it was overwhelming. Her vision blurred at the edges, and the sound of the water lapping at the dock became distant like it was happening far away.

"Hey, MJ, you alright?" JJ's voice cut through the haze, a little too sharp, too urgent. He was leaning in front of her, his hand gripping her shoulders as he tried to steady her.

She blinked up at him, her head swimming. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... just feeling a little dizzy," she mumbled, though she knew that wasn't the real problem. Her chest was tight, her breath shallow, and the world felt like it was closing in on her.

JJ wasn't buying it. "No, you're not fine." His eyes darted over her face, his hands now on her wrists as he felt for her pulse. He could hear her shallow breaths, see how pale she was becoming. "Shit, MJ—you're not breathing right."

She couldn't focus. She couldn't think straight. Every breath felt like it was pulling from the bottom of the ocean. "I just... need to sit down," she murmured, trying to steady herself, but her legs were wobbling beneath her.

JJ's face went white as panic set in. He pulled her into his chest, his arms tightening around her. "No, no, no. You're not sitting down—come on, stay with me, MJ."

She could feel the pounding in her head, the room spinning. Her body felt like it wasn't her own, each movement sending waves of nausea through her.

"JJ..." she whispered weakly, the words barely escaping her throat. "I think I might... overdose..."

"Don't say that." His voice cracked, and MJ felt his hands shaking as he held her. His fear was so raw it cut through her like a blade. "You're not overdosing, okay? We just need to get you some water. Just breathe, stay with me, please."

She clung to him, even though it felt like she might slip away at any moment. JJ's breathing was ragged now, matching hers. His voice came in rushed bursts as he tried to keep her focused, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of something better.

"Stay with me, MJ," he begged, his hand pressing to her chest as if trying to push the panic out of her. "Just breathe. Focus on me. You've gotta stay with me."

She barely heard him anymore. The world was a blur of colours and sounds she couldn't quite grasp. The only thing she could hold onto was JJ's grip, his steady pulse under her fingertips.

And then, suddenly, everything went still. Her heart slowed, the dizziness faded, and she could feel the tightness in her chest easing. JJ's hands were still on her, his eyes locked onto hers, terrified but unyielding.

"Hey," he whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "You're okay, alright? You're gonna be fine."

But MJ wasn't so sure. She felt like she'd just narrowly escaped something, but as JJ held her close, she knew she'd never let herself get that far again. She didn't know what was scarier—the high or the way JJ was looking at her, his worry painted in every line of his face.

"Sorry," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

JJ didn't say anything right away. Instead, he pulled her in tighter, pressing his forehead against hers for a long, quiet moment. "Don't ever scare me like that again, MJ."

She nodded, a weak, guilty smile tugging at her lips. "I won't. I promise."

"Pope! Kie! We gotta go, now!" MJ's voice cut through the air, frantic and sharp. The urgency in her tone had them both on edge, but before they could make a move, they were surrounded.

It happened so fast. One moment, MJ was trying to process everything—John B's sudden departure, the cop car chasing them, the fear settling deep in her gut—and then, before she could even think, they were trapped. Shoupe was there, towering over them like a storm cloud, his hand outstretched as he demanded answers.

"Pope, hands," Kiara's voice trembled, her eyes wide as she raised her hands. MJ mirrored her, keeping her palms open and visible, knowing she had nothing to hide.

Still, her heart pounded in her chest. She wasn't the one they were after, but being caught in the middle of this felt wrong like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the fall. She knew John B was already gone, somewhere safe by now, but there was nothing she could do to protect him anymore.

"We're too late! He's gone. God dammit! Bratcher, have your guys stand down!" Shoupe barked, frustration thick in his voice. He started pacing, his eyes wild as he realized John B had slipped through their fingers. His fury filled the space like a pressure cooker about to explode.

"Where the hell is he?!" Shoupe snapped, turning on them. His gaze landed on JJ, his usual cocky demeanour now gone. He looked ready to implode. "JJ? I see you're livin' up to your name. Pope, how 'bout you? This isn't a fucking game! You can do the right thing now! Where'd he go?"

MJ's jaw clenched, but she stayed silent, her fists balled at her sides. They weren't going to break. Not now. Not for him.

They didn't have time for games. The cop pushing MJ's wrist behind her back was unnecessary, and rough, but she didn't have the energy to fight it. She let herself be shoved forward, her breath shallow as the weight of the situation pressed down on her.

Everything felt like a ticking time bomb. She glanced out at the water, the sky turning darker, and the first clap of thunder cracked the silence like a warning. She could feel it—something was coming, and they weren't ready for it. They never were.

The cop's grip on her tightened as she was shoved toward the car, but MJ refused to let herself panic. She'd been in worse situations. Still, the gnawing feeling in her stomach didn't go away. She wanted to scream for John B to be safe, for the storm to pass, for them to get out of this mess with nothing worse than a bruised wrist and a bruised ego.

But she stayed quiet, kept her head down, her face an emotionless mask. Because that's what they had to do. Stay quiet. Stay strong.

Her eyes stayed on the water, even as they moved her toward the car, and she prayed for everything to turn out okay. But in her heart, she knew things weren't going to be the same. Not after this. Not after John B disappeared into the night.

────

As MJ was shoved into the back of the cop car, she could barely get her bearings. The cramped space was suffocating, and the cold metal of the cage pressed into her sides. She tried to steady her breath, but something was wrong. Her chest tightened, and a dull ache spread through her head like a growing storm cloud. It felt like her body was betraying her.

She was struggling to stay alert, but the haze was creeping in. The world around her felt blurry and distant. Her limbs were trembling, her fingers twitching involuntarily, and she could already feel the cold sweat breaking out across her skin. She hated this feeling—the helplessness, the loss of control.

From outside the car, she could hear voices rising in panic.

"MJ! MJ!" JJ's voice cut through the haze, frantic, loud, like he was right next to her. But she couldn't focus. She couldn't do anything except fight against the shaking in her body.

"JJ! Shut up!" Kiara's voice was sharp, and MJ could hear the thud of footsteps. "She's just—"

"No, you don't get it, Kiara! She's gonna overdose!" JJ's voice was full of terror. He was pacing, his voice getting louder and more frantic with every word. "We've gotta get her help! NOW!"

"She's fine, JJ," Pope snapped, but even he sounded uncertain. MJ's vision swam, and she could hear the frustration in his voice, the conflict. "She's just high. We can't just—"

"I'm telling you!" JJ shouted, cutting him off. "I saw this before—on my dad. She needs help now, or she's going to die!" His voice cracked with desperation in every syllable.

In the back of the car, MJ's body bucked as the first spasm hit her. The tremor started in her legs, shooting up to her spine. She let out a strangled gasp, her back arching painfully as she tried to breathe, but it was impossible. The panic crept up, suffocating her, as she felt herself slipping further away from reality.

"MJ!" JJ screamed, his voice almost breaking. She could hear him slamming his hands against the cop car's window as if trying to break through the glass and reach her. "Please! Please, don't—"

Another spasm wracked her body, and her breath caught in her throat. The world was spinning, her vision blurring as her limbs jerked uncontrollably. She couldn't stop it. Couldn't fight it. Her body felt like it was betraying her, like she was trapped in some nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

"Get her out of there!" JJ was yelling now, but his voice was distant, too distant. "She can't breathe! She's—"

"You need to calm down," one of the officers barked at him, but MJ could hear the hesitation in their voice. Even they were starting to realize something was wrong. Her pulse was racing, the blood pounding in her ears as the next wave of convulsions hit, making her body lurch in unnatural directions.

Through the chaos, she thought she heard Kiara's voice, barely audible. "We need to do something. She—she's not okay."

It was getting harder and harder to focus on anything. The world was slipping through her fingers, a blur of sound and motion. And as she felt herself losing control of her body completely, a part of her thought maybe they were right—maybe she was going to die.

The spasms came faster now, each one more intense than the last, and all she could think was, This isn't how it's supposed to end.

JJ's voice, frantic and panicked, reached her one last time before everything faded into a dark, endless silence.

"Don't you dare leave me, MJ."

────

The ambulance was a blur of bright lights and frantic motion. MJ's head throbbed each pulse of pain a reminder of the chaos she'd just escaped. She could feel the tightness in her chest, her breath shallow and ragged as she fought to stay present, to break through the fog that clung to her mind. The effects of whatever she'd taken were still coursing through her veins, but they were starting to wear off. The tremors in her body weren't as violent now, but they still shook her to her core.

The paramedics worked quickly around her, their hands steady and efficient as they adjusted the IV in her arm. One of them was murmuring instructions to another, but MJ's focus was elsewhere. She could hear her brother, JJ, his voice frantic and sharp, even over the hum of the ambulance's engine.

"She's coming down from it," one of the paramedics said. "She's still unstable, but she's breathing better. She's going to be okay."

But MJ wasn't sure about that. The world felt too loud, too bright. Every noise felt like it was pressing against her skull, making her head pound harder. Her stomach churned, and she swallowed hard, trying to push the nausea down.

"JJ..." she croaked, her voice hoarse and weak. The sound of her name felt strange like it wasn't hers. She lifted her hand shakily to her forehead, trying to push away the dizziness. "I'm... sorry."

JJ's voice cut through the noise like a lifeline. "MJ? MJ!" He was leaning over her, his face etched with worry. His hands were gripping the edge of the ambulance's door, his knuckles white as he strained to get closer to her.

"Stop moving," one of the paramedics warned, his voice firm but not unkind. "We need her to stay still for a bit. She's still recovering from the overdose."

But MJ was already too aware, the clarity creeping back in, the fog lifting slowly but surely. She met JJ's gaze, her eyes searching his, feeling the familiar bond between them despite the distance. The panic in his expression made her chest tighten.

"I'm okay," she said weakly, though she wasn't sure if she believed it herself. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but she could see JJ's eyes soften at the sound of her trying to reassure him.

"No, you're not," he snapped, his hands trembling as he reached out, placing one gently on her shoulder. "You scared the hell out of me, MJ. You nearly—"

"I know," she interrupted, blinking hard as she tried to shake the last vestiges of the drug from her system. "I just... I messed up."

She wanted to say more, to explain, but the words felt lost in her mouth, tangled with the confusion and the lingering fear that still made her heart race. She squeezed JJ's hand, trying to ground herself in the present, in the familiar touch of her twin. She could feel the warmth of his skin, the pulse of his heartbeat beneath his fingers, and it helped pull her back from the edge.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, though it didn't feel like enough. She'd scared him, and she hated that more than she could put into words.

"It's okay," JJ said, his voice quiet now, though she could still hear the tremor of emotion in it. He squeezed her hand back, not letting go. "You're gonna be fine. Just... just stay with me."

She nodded slowly, trying to calm the storm inside her head. The sounds around her, the constant beeping of the machines, the rush of the ambulance—everything seemed to settle into something more manageable. She was coming down from it, but it didn't feel like enough. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do next, how to fix what she'd broken, how to make everything okay again.

But for now, with JJ's hand firmly in hers, she just focused on breathing.

"Sit down. Don't move. We got a lot to talk about," he ordered before walking away, tapping the shoulder of a hulking man with a heavy weapon. He was nothing like the small guns MJ had gotten used to all summer—this guy's weapon looked like something out of a war movie. "Keep an eye on them, kids," Officer Plumb muttered.

MJ gulped the noise around her increasing in volume, suffocating her. The chatter from radios rattled her brain, the sound of police cars whooping in the distance felt like a hammering in her skull, and the conflicting voices of different people shouting in all directions made the world spin. The constant noise felt like it was attacking her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out.

She gripped her knees tightly, her knuckles white from the force, trying to steady herself. She knew she had to breathe, to stay grounded, but the chaotic mess in her mind made it almost impossible.

Then, a cold hand settled gently over hers, breaking through the overwhelming noise. MJ blinked, finally looking up at JJ. He was leaning in, his presence a calm amidst the storm around her. He squeezed her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers in a silent show of support. It wasn't much—neither of them had much to offer at that moment—but it was enough to help her breathe just a little easier.

"Stay with me, MJ," JJ whispered, his voice low but steady. His eyes locked onto hers, concern etched across his face. MJ returned the squeeze, trying to calm the storm inside herself.

The storm outside the tent raged on, the wind whipping violently against the tarps above them. The rain came down in harsh, unrelenting sheets, and thunder cracked overhead like a warning. MJ hated this place. The memories it dragged up, the fear it ignited deep in her chest—it was all too much. The terror of that summer, when she and JJ had been left in the dark about their parents, their disappearance, and what was happening to the island, came rushing back.

As the others began to talk, MJ tried to tune out the frantic energy. The radio chatter was relentless, and the loud voices around them made it hard to think straight. She wanted to know what was going on, but the uncertainty was making her stomach turn. The unknown terrified her more than she cared to admit, especially when things were this bad.

The minutes dragged on like hours. They sat in the tent, each of them fidgeting, exchanging quiet words of encouragement, but mostly remaining silent. The noise of the storm, the rain slapping against the tent, was deafening. And the radio chatter? It felt like it was seeping into her skull, slowly driving her mad.

Suddenly, the voice of one of the officers cut through the tension. "We've got eyes on the coastline. The Phantom's out there."

MJ flinched at the sudden mention of John B. The name sparked a flicker of recognition, but her mind was too scrambled to fully grasp it. All she knew was the tense silence that followed. JJ's leg began bouncing uncontrollably beside her, and she could feel the nervous energy radiating off him.

She plucked his hat from his hand, twisting it in her fingers. It was a small distraction, but it helped her focus. The rain outside kept pounding, relentless and furious, but it wasn't just the storm that had her on edge—it was everything that was happening, everything that had been building up to this point.

When the news came that they hadn't found them, that John B and the others were still missing, MJ's stomach twisted with dread. Her heart hammered in her chest, the words echoing in her mind like a bad omen.

"No," she muttered, her voice barely a whisper as the realization hit. The thought that John B and the others were gone, that they might never come back, was too much to bear. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the tears back. They weren't dead, not yet. But everything in her gut told her the worst was coming.

Shoupe, the officer, couldn't look them in the eye. He was ashamed, guilty even. The way he avoided their gazes, the way his words hung heavy in the air, made everything worse. "We lost them," he said, his voice thick with regret.

MJ's heart sank. No. That wasn't what he meant. He couldn't mean that. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. She didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to believe it.

JJ shot up from his seat, rage flashing in his eyes. "What do you mean you lost them?" His voice was raw with anger, but MJ couldn't bring herself to say anything. Her chest felt tight, and she knew JJ was feeling the same way. They both had been through enough already. And now this—this nightmare.

The storm outside grew louder, and MJ could hear the radio crackling again, the urgency in the voices making everything feel more surreal. "We need search and rescue standing by," someone said.

The storm raged outside its power a constant reminder of the storm brewing in MJ's chest. She hated this—hated the feeling of being powerless, of not knowing what was happening. It had been a long time since the world felt so out of control, and the unfamiliarity of it gnawed at her.

"Eyes on all coastal access points, people," she heard an officer shout. "Let's get this guy."

The sound of the storm intensified, mixing with the static and shouts outside. MJ couldn't help but flinch as thunder cracked overhead, her mind spiralling back to memories she didn't want to revisit. The days when her parents had disappeared, when she was fourteen and the island had felt like a distant nightmare.

"Hey, we're back up! We got power!" came another shout, but it barely registered in MJ's brain.

"That's them! There they are!" JJ's voice cut through the noise as he jumped to his feet, his hands tugging at his hair. MJ plucked his hat from his hand, the motion automatic, as she fidgeted with it in her lap, trying to distract herself from the storm inside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw JJ's leg bouncing nervously. She didn't say anything, knowing that under the pressure, neither of them could keep still for long.

The storm outside continued to grow more violent, rain pounding against the tent as the wind howled. "Go! We're gonna get soaked!" someone yelled, and MJ could almost feel the cold water in her bones. The chaos outside only deepened, her pulse quickening as she tried to make sense of it all.

The radio crackled, and MJ's stomach tightened. The voices on the other end sounded panicked, and she could feel the unease creeping up her spine. She couldn't hear everything, but she didn't need to. The fragments of sentences she caught were enough to paint the picture.

And then, the dreaded words came.

"We lost them," Shoupe said, his voice rough, as he stood before them.

MJ's stomach dropped. She knew what that meant. She'd heard it before—when things like this went bad.

Pope's voice was tight, desperate. "What do you mean you lost them? Like, they're gone?"

"They took an open boat into a tropical depression," Shoupe explained as if that answered everything. "We didn't know what we were dealing with."

MJ's voice was bitter as she cut through the silence. "What you're saying is they're dead."

Shoupe's eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked like he might correct her. But he didn't. The truth was too ugly to sugarcoat.

JJ exploded, his anger a blur as he lunged forward, his hands grabbing Shoupe's jacket, his voice rising to a screech. "You drove them straight through the storm, man! Are you kidding me?"

MJ flinched at her brother's fury, and for a moment, the world seemed to spin. She wanted to pull him back, but the intensity in JJ's eyes told her nothing could stop him now. Her hand shot out, trying to catch his arm, but her voice was lost in the chaos.

"Stop, JJ!" she yelled, but he didn't hear her. She stood up, a helpless feeling taking over as she saw the officer struggle to break free of JJ's grip. "We're not helping anyone like this," MJ muttered to herself, frustrated with the situation.

Finally, it took the burly officer to pull JJ off, but the moment JJ was away, Pope was in Shoupe's face, trying to calm him down. "He didn't kill anyone, and you know it."

Shoupe's eyes met Pope's, and the sadness in his gaze said everything. "We're still looking for him," he said quietly, but the doubt in his voice was clear.

MJ moved toward JJ, placing a hand on his arm as parents started to trickle in, their faces a blur of concern. She knew her aunt wouldn't be here—deadbeat as always. The same went for JJ's dad.

Pope collapsed in his parents' arms, sobbing. "I'm sorry."

All MJ and JJ had left were each other. Without words, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Her breath hitched as she whispered the words she could barely process. "Drowned. They drowned."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't a hope. It was the truth. The harsh, undeniable truth that everything had changed, and it would never be the same again.

As MJ and JJ held each other, the weight of everything crashing down on them, the world outside felt distant—muted, as though nothing else mattered. The storm outside continued to batter against the makeshift shelter, but inside, there was only a suffocating silence as they both tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

It was then that the door to the tent creaked open, the harsh sound breaking through the fragile peace they had created. MJ pulled back from JJ, wiping her eyes quickly, not wanting to show any more weakness. But as her gaze turned toward the officer who had just entered, her stomach twisted.

"Rosemary Jane Maybank?" The officer's voice was flat, his expression hard and unreadable. He was tall, his uniform a sharp contrast against the disarray of the scene. The air in the room seemed to change, growing colder, and heavier.

JJ stepped forward, his hands still trembling, but his voice steady. "What the hell is this? What do you want?"

The officer's gaze shifted from JJ to MJ, his eyes narrowing as he glanced over her for a moment longer than necessary. "Rosemary Maybank," he said again, this time with more authority. "You're under arrest."

The words hung in the air, impossible to ignore. JJ's face twisted in disbelief, his eyes snapping between the officer and his twin sister. "What? What the hell are you talking about? Why her?"

MJ's heart slammed in her chest, her breath catching in her throat. She felt the world tilt, like the ground beneath her was suddenly unsteady. "What the hell are you arresting me for?" she demanded, her voice barely audible but laced with disbelief and anger.

The officer didn't flinch. "For being an accomplice to a drug bust that resulted in the overdose of Zahara, Zaza, Moreno." He paused as if the name carried more weight than it should have. "You know who she is, don't you? You knew her well enough."

MJ's pulse pounded in her ears. Zahara. She'd known her. Zaza, a name that had become synonymous with trouble and chaos, was a local dealer who had been rising fast before everything had gone sideways. The last time MJ saw her was in a parking lot, their brief encounter lasting mere seconds. Zaza had been angry, as always, accusing her of keeping her distance while trying to stay out of the mess that seemed to follow her everywhere.

But an overdose? That was news to her. MJ didn't have anything to do with that. She didn't even know the specifics—only that things had gotten bad with Zaza's business, and now it had spiralled into something worse. But why was she being dragged into this?

"That's bullshit!" MJ snapped, the anger building in her chest as her voice rose. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The officer remained calm, his face unreadable. "We have your prints at the scene, Maybank," he said, his tone flat but final. "And eyewitnesses who placed you there, with her, right before the bust. You're not walking out of here unless we're talking about this."

JJ stepped in front of her, his fists clenched tightly, his anger barely contained. "This is a joke. You've got nothing on her! She didn't do anything!"

The officer ignored him, his eyes never leaving MJ. "You're coming with me, Maybank," he said, reaching for his cuffs.

But MJ couldn't move. She was frozen in place, her mind whirling, trying to process the fact that in one moment, she'd gone from just another girl in a storm to being accused of something that might ruin her life. She hadn't asked for any of this. Hadn't asked to be dragged into this mess.

JJ's voice broke through the haze of her thoughts. "MJ... we're gonna figure this out. I swear."

But even as he spoke, MJ couldn't shake the feeling that everything she had fought for, everything she had done to stay under the radar, had just come crashing down around her.

The officer's hand hovered over her shoulder, his gaze still locked on her. "Come on, Maybank Let's go."

Her chest tightened as she glanced over at JJ. She could see the desperation in his eyes, but there was no stopping this. Not this time.

As she was led toward the door, she felt the storm inside her match the one raging outside, the weight of the accusation sinking deeper with every step she took.