「 ✦ POUGES DIE ✦ 」

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THE FLAMES FLICKERED IN THE cool night air, casting dancing shadows on the sand as the rest of the group gathered around the fire. The smell of burning wood mixed with the salty breeze, and the sounds of waves crashing against the shore were a calming backdrop to the evening. The Pogues sat in a tight circle, laughter and conversation flowing freely, their spirits lifted by the warmth of the fire and the company of those still left standing.

But off to the side, away from the warmth of the group, Rafe and MJ sat in quiet company. Their eyes met occasionally, a soft, unspoken understanding between them, but they said little. MJ's hand rested lightly in her lap, her fingers absently tracing the lines in the sand as she watched the others, her thoughts far away.

It was when Kie's voice broke through the quiet that both Rafe and MJ's attention snapped to her.

"Sarah's really gonna be a good mom," Kie said, her voice light but filled with certainty. "She's got that nurturing side, you know? She'll do great."

Rafe's chest tightened at the words, his eyes shifting toward Sarah across the fire. She was sitting next to John B, her hand gently resting on her stomach, a soft, serene smile on her face as she listened to the conversation. It was impossible to ignore the subtle shift in the air, the acknowledgment that Sarah was pregnant—something they hadn't fully come to terms with yet, but that was becoming more undeniable every day.

For a moment, Rafe felt a lump rise in his throat, the weight of his own tangled emotions threatening to swallow him whole. He'd tried to avoid thinking about it, to bury the uncertainty deep down, but now, hearing it out loud, it all seemed so much harder to ignore.

Sarah, pregnant. John B's child.

And here he was, sitting at the edge of the group with MJ, his mind racing with thoughts he didn't know how to process.

He sat up straighter, his jaw clenched, and Sarah caught his gaze from across the fire. She offered him a small nod, as if she understood the weight of everything he was carrying. The look wasn't accusatory, but it was something else—something more complex than he could easily define.

MJ, sensing the shift in Rafe's mood, leaned in slightly, her voice barely a whisper against the crackling of the fire.

"You're allowed to feel conflicted," she said softly, her words full of empathy. "I know it's a lot... But you don't have to figure it all out right now."

Rafe's heart beat in his chest, his emotions swirling around him like the wind kicking up around the fire. He didn't know what to say, or how to even begin expressing the way everything inside him felt. The frustration, the confusion, the guilt. All of it tangled together in his mind, making it hard to breathe.

He glanced at MJ, her eyes full of quiet understanding, and for a moment, it felt like everything slowed down. Her words—simple but kind—were enough to ground him in the chaos. She wasn't pushing him, wasn't expecting him to have all the answers. She was just there, letting him feel what he needed to feel.

Rafe swallowed hard, his eyes locking with Sarah's again, the weight of her pregnancy pressing down on him. He could feel his heart torn between conflicting emotions—between the resentment that still clung to the past and the understanding that, somehow, this new chapter was something he couldn't change.

"Yeah," he whispered back, his voice hoarse. "I don't know how to feel about any of this."

MJ's lips curled into a small, understanding smile, and she gave him a gentle nudge with her shoulder. "You'll figure it out," she said. "In your own time."

For a long moment, they both sat there in silence, watching the fire crackle and pop, lost in their own thoughts but comforted by the shared space between them.

In the distance, the sound of the others' laughter carried over the wind, and while things weren't easy, in that moment, Rafe felt a small measure of peace. 

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The morning sun rose high in the sky, casting long shadows over the endless expanse of sand. Rafe and MJ trudged through the desert, their footsteps heavy and slow in the heat. The silence between them was deafening, save for the occasional gust of wind that kicked up the dry sand and stung their skin. Their clothes were filthy, their faces smeared with dust, but they kept moving forward, the promise of a distant town on the horizon.

The desert had felt like a never-ending nightmare, but the closer they got to the town, the more the air began to shift. There was something in the air—life, maybe. The anticipation of reaching something solid after days of endless nothing.

Behind them, the rest of the Pogues and Cleo had fallen into line, exhausted but still together, each pushing through the journey for their own reasons. They were all in it together now, a fragile unit bound by the same need to survive.

Despite their shared goal, Rafe and MJ walked slightly ahead, the others trailing behind them. MJ stole glances at Rafe as they moved through the dunes, his expression distant, eyes fixed on something far off. She wanted to ask what was going on inside his head but didn't want to break the fragile quiet that existed between them.

"Almost there," Rafe muttered, though the words seemed empty. The town ahead appeared as little more than a mirage, but there was an undeniable pull to it. A promise of shelter, of refuge. He let out a sigh, though his posture remained stiff, and his hand was never far from the weapon at his waist.

The journey had tested them all, but there was an unspoken understanding that whatever had brought them here, they weren't done yet. Not by a long shot.

As they neared the town, the first signs of civilization appeared. The towering minarets of mosques reached into the sky, and the streets were lined with bustling market stalls. The sound of people haggling over spices, textiles, and produce filled the air. Children ran through the dusty streets, their laughter ringing out like music in contrast to the suffocating silence of the desert they had just crossed.

They entered the town cautiously, but the world around them was a shock to the senses. The heat, the noise, the sheer amount of life—it was overwhelming. They walked through narrow streets, weaving in and out of the crowds, blending in as best they could.

"I don't like this place," Rafe muttered, glancing over his shoulder. "We have to stay low."

The Pogues and Cleo were right behind them, trying to stick together despite the chaos of the market. John B, Pope, Kie, and JJ were scanning their surroundings, looking for danger, while Cleo seemed more at ease, her eyes flicking to the various stalls in curiosity.

MJ, though, couldn't help but feel a sense of awe. She had never been anywhere like this, and while the anxiety gnawed at her, a small part of her allowed herself to enjoy the vibrant life around her.

They walked on for a while, until they came to a small café tucked away in a quieter part of town. They all piled inside, the cool air hitting them as they took a moment to rest.

Rafe's eyes never stopped moving, scanning the people around them, the windows, the doors, any exit. He was always on guard, but something about the town made him feel more vulnerable, more exposed. As he looked around, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching.

"Stay sharp," he whispered to MJ, his voice strained with tension.

MJ nodded, but she was distracted by the people around them, the energy of the town, the faces that looked so different from the ones they had left behind. She couldn't help but feel a strange sense of relief. They were here. They were alive. For now.

The street bustled with life as the group made their way deeper into the heart of the town. The sounds of vendors calling out their wares, children running and laughing, and the distant hum of conversation surrounded them. The sun beat down relentlessly, but the humidity of the desert was starting to give way to a different kind of heat, one that felt stifling in its own way.

Sarah suddenly stumbled, her vision swimming, and she grabbed onto a nearby pillar for support. The dizziness was immediate, her pulse racing as she fought to stay upright.

"Sarah?" Kie's voice was sharp with concern as she rushed to her side. "You okay?"

Sarah tried to shake it off, but her body felt weak, like it was no longer cooperating with her. "I'm fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but her face was pale, and she was visibly sweating.

Kie frowned, clearly not buying it. "You're not fine. You need food. We need to get you something."

"Yeah, we can't have you passing out on us," Cleo added, glancing around at the busy street. "We can't have that kind of attention."

Rafe's eyes narrowed, but he stayed quiet, his protective instincts kicking in. He knew Sarah was pregnant, but he hadn't fully realized how fragile she was. Her health was more precarious than he'd assumed, and the realization hit him hard.

JJ, who had been looking around distractedly, suddenly caught sight of the situation. He tilted his head as he glanced from Sarah, who was sitting on the ground now, to Kie, who was ready to take action.

"We can do it the old-fashioned way," Cleo said with a glint in her eye, crossing her arms.

JJ, who had been momentarily caught off guard by Cleo's words, turned to MJ, an intense look in his eyes. His grin, mischievous and full of that old reckless energy, slowly spread across his face.

"Five-finger discount, huh?" JJ asked, turning to MJ, his voice low but full of excitement. "You in?"

MJ didn't hesitate, though the expression on her face showed how conflicted she was. She glanced down at Sarah, still looking pale and weak, and then over at Rafe, who was eyeing the situation with a mixture of concern and disbelief.

"Let's just make it quick," MJ muttered, standing up and brushing dust off her jeans. "We need to get her food. She's not doing well."

JJ's smirk widened as he leaned in toward her, whispering, "Don't worry. It'll be fast. I'll grab the snacks, and we'll be in and out before anyone even notices."

Rafe, still uneasy about leaving Sarah behind, finally spoke up. "I'm going with you," he said gruffly. "I don't trust this place."

MJ shot him a pointed look, her eyebrows raised in challenge. "Rafe, it's fine. We'll be quick. Just keep an eye on Sarah."

Rafe hesitated for a moment, but his gaze moved to Sarah, who had already leaned back against the pillar, eyes closed in exhaustion. He nodded reluctantly, though he didn't like the idea of leaving her unguarded in a place this unfamiliar.

"Fine," he muttered, staying with Sarah, but his eyes tracked every movement MJ made as she walked off with JJ.

JJ and MJ melted into the crowd, their faces blending in with the chaos of the street. It was easy enough—slipping past market stalls, weaving through narrow paths, and avoiding the occasional vendor who might call out to them.

As they approached a brightly colored stall filled with fresh fruit and baked goods, MJ glanced over at JJ, his hand already hovering near a pile of apples.

"You know," she whispered, "I'm not exactly proud of this."

JJ grinned. "Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do." He reached down, swiping a handful of fruit in one smooth motion before MJ could protest.

"I'm serious, JJ," she muttered, looking around. "You're not supposed to steal when we've got other options. And Sarah needs help—this isn't right."

He rolled his eyes, pulling her along with him. "You act like this is a big deal. It's not like we're stealing from someone who needs it. These guys are rolling in cash." His eyes flicked to a vendor near the corner of the stall. "Plus, we've been through worse."

They moved quickly, not daring to linger too long, and slipped into an alleyway to avoid the eyes of the crowd. The food wasn't much—some bread, fruit, and a bit of cheese—but it would be enough to get Sarah back on her feet.

MJ looked down at the stolen goods in her hands, her stomach turning. "This is messed up."

JJ chuckled, clearly enjoying the rush. "Yeah, it's the old-school way. Just like we used to do back home."

But as they turned to leave the alleyway, their eyes caught a flicker of movement. A figure—tall, cloaked in the shadows—was approaching, his footsteps echoing softly in the otherwise quiet space.

It was one of the town's local guards, and it was clear from the way he was walking that he wasn't here for sightseeing.

"Shit," MJ whispered. "We need to go. Now."

JJ's grin faltered, replaced by a sharp urgency. Without saying another word, they both took off down the alley, the stolen goods clutched tightly in their hands as the sound of footsteps followed them.

The sounds of footsteps grew louder, echoing off the narrow streets as MJ and JJ sprinted through the bustling alleyways, adrenaline pumping through their veins. The stolen food felt heavy in her hands, but it was the least of her concerns. The guards were close now, their shouts growing clearer, and the tension in the air thickened with every step.

"MJ!" JJ shouted, his voice strained with urgency as he tried to keep up with her. "We can't lose each other! Come on, we gotta stick together!"

But MJ didn't answer. She was focused, her eyes scanning the narrow alley ahead, calculating her escape. She needed to get away from the guards, but she also needed to protect herself—and everyone else. She wasn't thinking clearly, but she didn't care. The only thing that mattered now was getting out.

A sharp turn ahead presented her with an unexpected option—a small, hidden alley that she hadn't seen before. Her heart raced as she made a split-second decision. She veered off from the main path and darted into the darkness of the back alley, her feet pounding the dirt ground beneath her. She heard JJ's voice faintly calling after her, but it was too late. She had already vanished into the shadows.

She pushed herself further into the alley, desperate to put some distance between herself and the Moroccan guards. She didn't stop running until she reached a narrow ditch that led beneath a crumbling stone archway. For a moment, she stood there, catching her breath, her heart still hammering in her chest as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

And then she saw him.

Rafe.

He stood in the mouth of the alley, his posture tense, his eyes scanning the street as if searching for something—or someone.

"Rafe!" MJ gasped, "We've got to get out of here. They're coming for us." 

MJ's stomach growled loudly as they hurried through the alley, the sound cutting through the tense silence between her and Rafe. She winced, trying to ignore the growl of hunger gnawing at her insides. She hadn't eaten properly in days, and the little food they'd stolen in Morocco barely put a dent in her cravings.

Rafe glanced over at her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The expression on his face was a mix of amusement and something else—something deeper, but it passed quickly as he reached into his pocket. His fingers brushed against the small wad of bills he'd been carrying, and with a smooth motion, he pulled it out, letting the bills flicker between his fingers.

"Here," he said, tossing a few bills in her direction with a teasing glint in his eyes. "Get us some food. I'm not letting you starve on me."

MJ caught the money, staring at it for a moment before glancing back up at Rafe. There was something almost playful in his voice, but it didn't mask the tension in his shoulders, the sharpness in his eyes that spoke of frustration and anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

"You really think I'm in the mood to eat?" she muttered, the bitter edge to her voice betraying the exhaustion she felt. "After everything? After what they did to us?"

Rafe's expression darkened at the mention of the others. His jaw clenched, and his fingers tightened around the money in his hand. He shook his head, letting out a sharp exhale as if trying to calm himself.

"Those assholes left us in a fucking janitor's closet on the boat, MJ," he said, his voice low but filled with anger. "So they can kick rocks. I'm done with them."

MJ's stomach twisted at the sharpness in his voice, at the raw bitterness that laced his words. She could see it now, the weight of his feelings—a mix of betrayal, frustration, and something else, something he was still trying to work through.

She wanted to argue, to point out that they weren't all bad, that they had their reasons. But the truth was, the words felt hollow in her mouth. They had all made choices. And now, here they were, in Morocco, running from the mess they'd created.

She met Rafe's gaze, her eyes narrowing slightly. "And what? We just leave them behind? Just like that?"

Rafe snorted, clearly unimpressed. "We were supposed to be a team, right? A family. But they left us in that closet, MJ. Left us to deal with our shit while they went off and played hero. They've got their own problems now. And I'm done playing along with their little games."

MJ felt a pang of guilt, the sharp sting of her loyalty pulling at her chest. She knew he was right. They had been left behind, stranded with no care for how they were surviving. But there was a part of her that still couldn't shake the thought of her friends. She couldn't just walk away, not completely.

"I get it," she muttered, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "But I can't just leave them to fend for themselves either."

Rafe's eyes softened for a moment, but the anger was still there, lurking behind his gaze. "I didn't say we leave them for good, MJ. I'm just saying... I'm not chasing after them anymore. Not when they've made it clear where their priorities lie."

He took a deep breath, clearly trying to let go of the frustration that was still gnawing at him. "Right now, it's just you and me. And we need to take care of ourselves. That's the only thing that matters."

MJ felt the weight of his words settle on her. He wasn't wrong. They were both lost in this mess, both struggling to survive. And if they didn't look out for each other, who would?

She sighed, finally slipping the bills into her pocket. "Fine. We do it your way. For now."

Rafe's smirk returned, a little less sharp this time, as he nodded toward the street ahead of them. "Good. Now, let's get something to eat before you pass out from hunger."

As they moved through the alley, MJ couldn't help but glance over at Rafe, his casual confidence almost disarming. The tension between them had shifted, the anger still there but tempered by a strange understanding. 

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After grabbing a quick meal from a street vendor, Rafe and MJ had found a small clothing store tucked away in one of the quieter alleys. The bustling Moroccan streets felt chaotic, but the store offered a much-needed reprieve. They quickly picked out a few outfits—light, breathable clothes that would help them blend in more seamlessly with the crowd. Rafe found a dark jacket and a pair of tan pants that fit him perfectly, while MJ settled for a loose-fitting dress and a scarf to help shield her face from the sun.

Once they were dressed, the transformation was immediate. They looked more like locals now, less like the fugitives they had been, and for a moment, it felt like they might just blend in. The anxiety that had been gnawing at MJ seemed to lessen slightly, but it was quickly replaced by a restless energy.

They walked side by side, moving further from the street market and into the quieter parts of the city. MJ couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong, but there was a sense of urgency in Rafe's stride, a determination to keep moving forward. She followed him closely, sensing that he wasn't about to slow down anytime soon.

Eventually, they found themselves at the foot of a large, ornate temple. Its ancient stone walls loomed over them, and the heavy, fragrant air of incense clung to the space around them. There was an eerie stillness in the air, as though something momentous was about to happen.

"I think this is it," Rafe muttered, his voice low as he glanced at the entrance.

MJ nodded, feeling a chill creep up her spine. Something about the place felt off, like they were stepping into the heart of something dangerous. She felt the weight of everything that had led them here pressing down on her, but there was no turning back now.

Together, they moved cautiously into the temple, the heavy wooden doors creaking slightly as they pushed through. The interior was dimly lit, the flickering light of candles casting long shadows across the stone walls. There were strange carvings etched into the surfaces, telling stories of gods and creatures long forgotten. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, and the sound of distant murmurs echoed through the space.

As they made their way deeper into the temple, they heard voices. Low, muffled at first, but unmistakably familiar. MJ tensed, and Rafe's hand tightened around hers instinctively. They crept closer to the source of the voices, sticking to the shadows, careful not to be seen.

Peeking around a pillar, they saw three figures standing in a secluded part of the temple—Groff, Lightner, and Dahlia.

Groff was pacing impatiently, his voice sharp and tense. "We've been waiting too long. I want answers, and I want them now."

Lightner stood with his arms crossed, his posture casual but his eyes scanning the room as if always alert. "Patience, Groff. You'll get what you want, but rushing it could make things worse."

Dahlia, standing beside them, spoke quietly, her tone colder than MJ had ever heard. "It's not about answers anymore. It's about survival. We need to be prepared for what comes next."

Rafe's grip on MJ's hand tightened even more. He leaned in close, his breath barely audible against her ear. "What the hell are they doing here?"

MJ didn't respond right away. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach as she watched them. "It doesn't look good. They're planning something. We shouldn't stay."

Rafe's eyes were fixed on the trio, his gaze hardening. "No. This is too big. I need to know what they're talking about."

MJ hesitated, but she knew Rafe's determination too well to argue. Still, the unease in her chest grew with every passing second. The tension in the room was palpable, and it felt like they were on the edge of something far darker than they had imagined.

Groff stopped pacing and turned to face Lightner, his face flushed with frustration. "We've been through hell to get to this point, and now we're just waiting? I want the damn operation to move forward. We can't afford to wait any longer. If we don't strike soon, everything we've built will crumble."

Dahlia stepped forward, her expression unreadable. "If you rush this, Groff, it won't just crumble. It'll implode. You don't know the consequences of what you're messing with. We've already played with fire."

Groff scoffed, but there was an underlying wariness in his tone. "I don't care about consequences anymore. We've come too far."

Rafe's jaw tightened as he exchanged a glance with MJ. He moved slightly closer, trying to hear more of the conversation.

"I think we need to act now," Lightner added, his voice calm but insistent. "It's only a matter of time before they find us."

Rafe's pulse quickened. This was it. Whatever they were planning, whatever operation they were talking about, it was happening now.

Suddenly, Groff's eyes darted toward the entrance of the temple. "Did you hear that?"

MJ's heart skipped a beat as she realized with horror that their presence might have been noticed. She squeezed Rafe's hand, pulling him back into the shadows as they both crouched low, praying they hadn't been seen.

They waited, frozen in place, as the three figures remained silent, seemingly unaware. The tension in the air grew thicker as they held their breath.

After what felt like an eternity, Groff turned back to the others. "Forget it. Let's focus on the task at hand."

But the weight of his words lingered in the air, and as Rafe and MJ silently backed away, they knew—whatever was happening here, it was only the beginning.

Rafe and MJ moved swiftly, their footsteps barely making a sound as they climbed up a narrow staircase that led to the roof of the temple. The sun was high in the Moroccan sky, casting harsh shadows on the sandstone buildings below. The distant hum of the bustling town was still audible, but their focus remained on the scene unfolding just a few feet away.

They crouched low on the roof, peering down into a secluded courtyard where Groff was pinned against a wall. One of Lightner's men, a hulking brute with a shaved head, was relentlessly punching him, each blow landing with a sickening thud. Groff's face was already swollen, blood dripping from his nose and lip. He looked like a cornered animal, his usual arrogance replaced by fear and desperation.

MJ's stomach churned at the sight, but Rafe's reaction was instant and primal. His fists clenched, and his jaw tightened. "Stay here," he whispered to MJ, his voice low but firm.

"Rafe—" she started, but he was already moving, vaulting over the edge of the roof with practiced ease.

The thug didn't even see him coming. Rafe landed behind him, grabbed the back of his shirt, and yanked him backward with brutal force. The man stumbled, turning to face his attacker, but Rafe didn't give him a chance to react. His fist connected with the thug's jaw in a sharp, powerful punch that sent him sprawling to the ground.

The man groaned, trying to get back up, but Rafe wasn't done. He followed up with a swift kick to the ribs, knocking the wind out of him. The thug collapsed, unconscious, and Rafe leaned down, rifling through his pockets until he found a set of keys.

"Rafe!" MJ called softly from the roof, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and concern.

Rafe looked up at her, holding up the keys with a triumphant grin. "We're getting out of here."

He turned to Groff, who was slumped against the wall, clutching his side and wincing in pain. "Get up," Rafe snapped, grabbing Groff by the arm and hauling him to his feet. "You're coming with us."

Groff blinked at him in confusion, clearly disoriented. "What—why are you helping me?"

"Because you know things," Rafe said sharply. "And I'm not leaving you here to die before you tell me everything."

He led Groff toward a rusty motorcycle parked in the corner of the courtyard. It was an old model with a sidecar attached, but it looked functional enough. Rafe climbed onto the bike, handing the sidecar's seatbelt to Groff. "Get in."

Groff hesitated, his gaze darting between Rafe and MJ, who had climbed down from the roof and was now approaching the bike. "You're serious?"

"Dead serious," Rafe growled. "Either get in, or I leave you here for Lightner's goons to finish the job."

Groff didn't need to be told twice. He awkwardly climbed into the sidecar, groaning as he adjusted himself. MJ swung her leg over the back of the bike, wrapping her arms around Rafe's waist for balance.

"This thing better start," Rafe muttered, jamming the key into the ignition and twisting it. The engine sputtered for a moment before roaring to life, the sound echoing through the narrow alleyways.

"Hold on," he said, and without waiting for a response, he revved the engine and sped off, the tires kicking up dust as they peeled out of the courtyard.

The narrow streets of the town blurred around them as Rafe weaved through the crowds and market stalls, narrowly avoiding collisions with pedestrians and other vehicles. Groff clung to the sidecar for dear life, cursing under his breath, while MJ tightened her grip on Rafe, her heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and exhilaration.

────

The motorcycle sputtered to a stop in the middle of the vast desert, the relentless sun bearing down on them. The heat shimmered in the distance, creating an almost surreal haze on the horizon. Rafe swung his leg over the bike, planting his boots firmly on the sand before turning to MJ. Gently, he helped her off, his hand lingering on hers for a brief moment.

She winced, brushing dust off her jeans. "If I never see sand again, it'll be too soon."

Rafe smirked, but his attention quickly shifted to Groff, who stumbled out of the sidecar, clutching his ribs and glaring at them both. Rafe's expression darkened as he squared his shoulders, stepping closer. "All right, Groff," he snapped, his voice sharp and commanding. "Let's get down to business. Tell me about this crown. What is it worth? Street value. Rough estimate. And don't screw with me—this shit better be worth my time. Do you understand?"

Groff straightened up as much as he could, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Oh, it's worth a fortune," he said, his tone smug. "One of the most sought-after relics in the world. Owned by Caesar himself. Hunted by Napoleon. Said to grant wishes and make the bearer indomitable."

Rafe stared at him, his mouth falling open slightly before he brought his hands to his head. "Holy shit. Holy shit!" He paced back and forth in the sand before stopping abruptly and pointing a finger at Groff. "That wasn't even close to answering my question. What is it worth?"

"Hundreds of millions," Groff said, a sly grin spreading across his battered face.

Rafe blinked, then laughed dryly, his tone dripping with disbelief. "You're full of shit."

"Am I?" Groff challenged, raising an eyebrow.

MJ crossed her arms, stepping up beside Rafe. "Hundreds of millions?" she echoed, her voice laced with skepticism. "Okay, let's say you're not lying. What, do you have a buyer or something?"

Groff smirked. "Yeah, actually. I got a buyer."

Rafe narrowed his eyes. "Where?"

Groff glanced at MJ, then back at Rafe, as if he was delivering a punchline. "Ever been to Lisbon?"

Rafe chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head. "Look at you, Groff. Always got a plan, huh? Well, here's the thing." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a menacing tone. "You screwed me over once already. Lost my money—our money." He pointed toward MJ without breaking his glare. "So now you're gonna be my bitch."

Groff scoffed, trying to mask his unease.

Rafe continued, his tone deadly calm. "And if you're lucky, I'll give you a little taste on the back end. Maybe. But only if I let you live. Got it?"

Groff hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. "Fine."

"Good. Now show me the map," Rafe demanded.

Groff pulled out a rolled-up scroll from his pack and unrolled it on a cluster of rocks that formed the remnants of an old well. From another pocket, he retrieved the necklace JJ had taken from Larissa. Holding it up, he smirked, clearly enjoying the theatrics. "It all becomes clear if you know how to read it," he said, dangling the necklace over the map. "You align the necklace like this, follow the line, pull it away toward your eye, and..." He gestured dramatically. "It all becomes clear."

Rafe rolled his eyes. "A magic trick. Great. What is this, a treasure hunt for kindergarteners?"

"How convenient," MJ muttered, unimpressed.

Groff ignored their jabs, pointing to the map. "This map will take us to the crown. But it's not just about riches."

Rafe leaned forward, his interest piqued despite himself. "Oh yeah? Then what is it?"

"The Blue Crown isn't just treasure," Groff said, his voice lowering. "It's power. It's revenge. Revenge on all those Kooks who treated you like trash, Rafe. And on those Pogues who looked down at you, MJ." He smirked knowingly. "It's how you make them all grovel at your feet."

Rafe clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists. MJ, crouched beside him, glanced up, her expression unreadable. "Keep talking," Rafe said through gritted teeth.

Groff's smirk grew wider as he added, "And maybe it's how you finally get even with Savannah and Chase back in Kildare."

At the mention of those names, Rafe froze. His head snapped toward Groff, his blue eyes blazing with anger and confusion. "What did you just say?"

Groff tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Oh, you didn't think I'd know about them, did you? I know everything."

MJ barely had time to register the shift in Rafe's demeanor before he sprang into action. He shoved her out of the way just as Groff lunged forward, a knife glinting in his hand. Rafe intercepted him, grabbing his wrist and twisting it, but not before the blade nicked his hand, leaving a jagged cut.

Rafe growled in pain but didn't let go. With a quick shove, he sent Groff stumbling backward. The con artist teetered on the edge of the well before losing his balance and falling in, his scream echoing as he hit the bottom with a sickening thud.

Rafe leaned over the edge, clutching his bleeding hand as he shouted mockingly, "Ha! Ha! Checkmate, bitch!"

MJ appeared at his side, grabbing a rock and hurling it down after Groff. It hit with a solid thunk. "Screw you!" she yelled, her voice shaking with adrenaline.

Rafe laughed breathlessly, wiping his forehead with the back of his good hand. "You're terrifying, you know that?"

"Yeah, and you're bleeding everywhere," MJ retorted, already ripping a strip from her shirt. She tied it tightly around his hand, her fingers trembling slightly. "You're lucky this wasn't worse."

Rafe looked down at her handiwork, then up at her. Without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. "Thanks."

MJ blinked in surprise but didn't pull away. Instead, she grabbed the map and necklace. "Let's go. We've wasted enough time on this idiot."

Rafe nodded, helping her onto the bike before climbing on himself. As the engine roared to life, he glanced back at the well one last time. "Guess he's not coming to Lisbon."

MJ smirked, wrapping her arms around him. "Good. I didn't like him anyway."

With that, they sped off into the desert, leaving Groff—and the chaos he brought—far behind.

────

The motorcycle skidded to a stop in front of an imposing, crumbling building nestled at the base of a rocky canyon. The structure loomed over them like a relic from another time—its weathered walls covered in faded symbols and vines creeping up its stone façade. MJ slid off the bike, her eyes scanning the desolate surroundings as the wind kicked up loose sand around their feet.

"This is it?" she asked, her voice tight with skepticism. "The map led us to... a haunted house in the middle of nowhere?"

Rafe kicked the bike stand down and stood, pulling the map from his pocket. "What did you expect? Disneyland?" He gave her a sharp look before turning to study the building. "This is it. Groff said the crown's hidden in a vault. It's gotta be inside."

MJ shook her head, muttering, "Yeah, and we all know how reliable he was."

Rafe ignored her and started toward the building, shoving the map into his back pocket. MJ followed close behind, her hand resting on the knife tucked into her waistband. The air felt thick with tension, the kind that made her stomach churn. She hated it when Rafe got like this—obsessive, reckless. It never ended well.

Just as they reached the front steps, a sharp sound cracked through the air—a gunshot.

"Shit!" MJ shouted, ducking instinctively as the bullet ricocheted off the stone near her head.

Rafe cursed, pulling her down behind a crumbling wall as more gunfire erupted. "They found us!" he hissed, peeking over the edge to spot their attackers.

A group of armed mercenaries swarmed out from behind the building, their rifles trained on the pair. "You just couldn't keep a low profile, could you?" MJ snapped, pressing herself against the wall as bullets whizzed overhead.

"Low profile's not my thing," Rafe shot back, pulling out his pistol. He fired a few rounds blindly around the corner, forcing the mercenaries to scatter. "Any ideas, genius?"

"Yeah, how about not getting us killed?" MJ retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She grabbed a chunk of debris and hurled it toward one of the attackers as a distraction.

Suddenly, the distant roar of an engine cut through the chaos. MJ and Rafe froze, exchanging a brief, confused glance before turning toward the noise. A beat-up van came careening over the ridge, skidding to a stop in a cloud of dust.

The doors flew open, and out poured John B, JJ, Kiara, Pope, and Sarah—each armed with whatever makeshift weapons they'd been able to scrounge up. 

The group ducked and dodged through the gunfire, the mercenaries closing in from all sides. JJ tossed a smoke bomb into the fray, creating a thick, choking cloud that gave them just enough cover to reach the building's entrance.

"Inside, now!" John B shouted, shoving the door open. The group scrambled in, slamming the heavy wooden door shut behind them.

"Rafe, stop! Rafe!" John B shouted, his voice sharp with urgency as Rafe grabbed MJ's arm and held the scroll tightly, heading for the door. "Just stop for one second! We don't even know where we're going, all right? Just give me the scroll."

"Fuck off," MJ sneered, her eyes narrowing.

"You want this?" Rafe said with a dangerous edge, turning abruptly and bluff-charging at John B. In a flash, he pulled out a knife, the blade gleaming as he held it inches from John B's face. His other arm locked MJ protectively behind him.

"It's ours," Sarah said firmly, stepping forward despite the tension in the air.

"Was." MJ's tone dripped with venom. "We took it fair and square. Rafe bought it for 400 grand, actually. So yeah—it's ours."

"Rafe, we just saved your life!" Sarah argued, her voice rising with frustration.

"No, no, no, no, no." Rafe shook his head, his tone icy. "You didn't do it out of the goodness of your heart. You did it so you could steal this from us. There was something in it for you. Don't act like you were trying to help. I know better."

"Rafe, we don't have time for this!" John B cut in, his voice taut with desperation. "Listen to me. We can read that scroll. You can't. You need us."

"Why the hell would we trust you?" MJ snapped, her eyes blazing. "All you guys ever did was look down on me, like I wasn't good enough for your little group."

"I don't trust you," Rafe said, his voice growing louder, his grip on the knife tightening. "I don't trust any of you. Do you understand that? Dad trusted you, Sarah. Do you remember what happened to him? Do you?!" His voice cracked as he practically shouted, his anger threatening to spill over.

Sarah stepped forward, her face hard but her voice steady. "Dad died saving my life."

The words landed like a gut punch. Rafe staggered back a step, nearly knocking MJ over. His expression twisted with anger, pain, and something he couldn't name.

"And you're so eager to blame me for everything," Sarah continued, her voice breaking. "You won't even listen to the truth. Singh's men had me at gunpoint, Rafe. I was going to die. Dad stepped in front of me. He took those bullets for me. And if he were still here, he'd want us to work together. You know that."

Rafe shook his head, his breathing uneven as tears welled in his eyes. "No. No. You're just going to screw me over like everyone else in my life. That's all anyone ever does. I can't trust you. I can't trust anyone."

"You can trust me," Sarah said softly, stepping closer. "Because I'm the only family you have left. And you're the only family I have left."

"She's telling the truth," John B added, his voice low and steady, as if willing Rafe to believe it.

Rafe's eyes darted between Sarah and John B, his hand shaking as he fought to keep his emotions in check. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, it looked like he might snap again. But then his grip on the knife loosened, and his shoulders slumped as a tear slipped down his cheek.

"All right," he said hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. "If we... if we work together, you don't screw me over. And you don't hurt Rosemary, okay? We still get our cut. Got it?"

"Yeah. Deal." Sarah nodded quickly, her voice filled with relief.

Rafe hesitated, then held the scroll out to her. His body went tense as Sarah pulled him into a hug, resting her head against his chest. For a moment, he didn't move. Then his arms slowly came up, holding her back.

Sarah stepped away, her eyes glistening as she turned to MJ and pulled her into a hug as well. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

MJ froze, caught off guard, before awkwardly patting Sarah on the back. "Yeah, well... just don't get sappy on me."

"Hey, this is all very touching," JJ interrupted, glancing out the window, "but we really gotta go. Like, now."

"Agreed," Pope said, already gathering their gear.

Sarah gave Rafe one last look, her expression a mix of hope and uncertainty, before turning to follow the group as they prepared to make their next move.

As they charged toward the door, chaos erupted. The men outside, armed and relentless, unleashed a hail of bullets. The deafening sounds of gunfire ricocheted through the air, making it almost impossible to think.

"Run! RUN!" Sarah screamed, grabbing John B's arm as they ducked behind a stack of crates for cover. JJ pulled out his knife, peeking over the crates as Pope dragged Sarah lower.

"Just make a break for it!" MJ shouted over the chaos, gripping the edge of the scroll in her hand. She glanced outside, spotting the row of bikes propped haphazardly against the side of the building.

Rafe was crouched low, breathing heavily beside her, his jaw tight as he scanned the scene. "What's the plan?!" he snapped.

"Run!" MJ yelled again, grabbing his arm and shoving him toward the others. "To the bikes! Now!"

JJ threw open the side door, yelling, "Go, go, go!" as they bolted toward the exit. Bullets flew past them, the sounds of men shouting orders growing louder.

"Shit!" Sarah ducked as a bullet whizzed past her head.

Rafe turned, firing off a few rounds from the pistol he'd swiped earlier. "Cover me!" he barked.

"Cover yourself, dumbass!" JJ snarled, pulling Sarah forward. "MOVE!"

MJ hesitated, her eyes darting around until she spotted a bike left unguarded, just a few feet from the chaos. "Go! I'll catch up!" she yelled at the group.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" John B shouted back, his voice filled with panic.

"Just go! NOW!" MJ barked, her tone leaving no room for argument.

The group exchanged panicked glances but followed her orders. One by one, they sprinted to the bikes, hopping on and revving the engines. The sound of the motors roared to life, mixing with the cacophony of gunfire. JJ lingered for a second longer, his eyes locking with MJ's.

"You better catch up, MJ!" he yelled, before revving his bike and speeding off after the others.

MJ exhaled sharply, sprinting toward the bike she'd spotted. Ducking and weaving between cover, she finally reached it, sliding onto the seat. Her hands trembled as she fumbled with the ignition, her heart pounding in her ears.

"Come on... come on..." she muttered under her breath. The bike sputtered for a moment before roaring to life.

She glanced up, spotting the taillights of the others disappearing down the main road. Without wasting a second, she twisted the throttle and took off, the wind whipping past her face. The sound of gunfire grew fainter behind her, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins refused to let up.

She could see the group's bikes in the distance, their outlines barely visible against the darkened streets. But as she pushed forward, a fork in the road appeared ahead of her. The others had taken the left path, but MJ was going too fast—she couldn't adjust in time.

"Shit!" she hissed, veering right instead and hurtling down an unfamiliar alley.

The street was narrow, with walls closing in on either side. Trash cans and debris littered the path, forcing her to swerve and dodge as she tried to find a way back to the main road. Her breathing was ragged, her grip tight on the handlebars.

"Okay, MJ, think..." she muttered to herself, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was following her. The sound of footsteps and distant shouting told her she wasn't alone.

She turned back to face the road—and her stomach dropped. A dead end.

"No, no, no..." she whispered, skidding to a halt and jumping off the bike. Her eyes darted around, searching for an escape route. A fire escape ladder hung low on the wall to her left. Without hesitation, she grabbed onto it and started climbing, her movements fueled by sheer panic.

Below, the sound of heavy boots grew louder. The men were closing in. One of them spotted her just as she reached the top of the ladder.

"She's up there!" one of them shouted, firing a few rounds in her direction.

MJ flinched as the bullets pinged off the metal ladder, but she didn't stop. She hoisted herself onto the roof, her chest heaving as she scrambled to her feet. From up here, she could see the city sprawling out before her, the distant glow of headlights marking where the others had gone.

"Shit," she breathed, realizing just how far she'd gotten off track.

Her moment of hesitation cost her. A shadow appeared at the edge of the roof, and one of the men climbed up after her.

"You've got nowhere to go!" he barked, aiming his gun at her.

MJ's heart raced as she stepped back, her mind racing for a plan. Her eyes locked onto a pile of crates on the next rooftop over. It wasn't far—but it was a hell of a jump.

"You don't know me very well," she shot back, a defiant smirk crossing her face.

Before the man could react, MJ took off running. She launched herself off the edge of the roof, her arms flailing as she soared through the air. She hit the other rooftop hard, rolling to absorb the impact. Pain shot through her shoulder, but she ignored it, scrambling to her feet and disappearing into the night.

She didn't know where she was going. She just knew she had to get out of there—and find her way back to the group.

────

The heat in the alley was unbearable, the thick, humid air sticking to her skin, suffocating her as she stumbled through the darkened streets. Rosemary's mind felt like it was swimming, each step she took heavier than the last, the weight of fear and grief settling deep in her bones. She didn't know what to do anymore, how to fix anything, or how to keep anyone safe. And she couldn't stop the nagging thought that the moment she walked into that alley, it had already been too late.

Her phone had gone silent. No word from JJ. And she had tried calling Rafe—tried texting him—but the messages went unanswered, just like everything else in her life now. She should've stayed with him, should've told him everything before it was too late. She should've found a way to keep JJ safe, to do something that mattered.

But now, here she was, trapped in a nightmare.

Her breaths were ragged, her pulse pounding in her ears as she turned the corner into a narrow alleyway. The flickering streetlamps cast long shadows, and she felt the creeping sensation of someone watching her, her every movement scrutinized, her every breath a reminder that she was so close to something awful.

And then, there he was. Chandler Groff.

The man who was supposed to be her father, the man she had trusted, even if she didn't understand him. The man who had always lurked in the shadows of her life, and now, he was standing there, waiting for her. His dark eyes glinted with something she couldn't quite name, something dangerous and cold.

He stepped forward, the air seeming to grow colder as his presence filled the alley.

"You think you're the hero here?" Chandler's voice was low, mocking. "You think you can save people? You think you can save him?"

"Please, Chandler, I—" Rosemary started, her voice trembling, but he cut her off with a sharp laugh.

"You don't even know who the real enemy is, do you, Rosemary?" He moved closer, and her heart skipped a beat. "It's always been about him. About your brother. You think this is some kind of game, but you have no idea how deep the rabbit hole goes."

Her head spun, her chest tightening with panic. "What are you talking about? Where's JJ?" Her voice broke, the terror rising in her throat.

Chandler didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took another step forward, his hand reaching out to grip her wrist. "You should've stayed out of this, little girl. But it's too late now."

She wasn't just scared for herself. She wasn't just terrified of losing JJ or Rafe. She wasn't ready. She wasn't prepared. But as Chandler's hands gripped her tighter, shaking her back to the present moment, she could feel the weight of that responsibility pressing down on her chest, almost suffocating her.

Chandler, of course, noticed. Rosemary swallowed hard, but before she could respond, Chandler yanked her forward, his fingers digging into her skin. "You can't fix everything, Rosemary. You'll never get away from me. You'll never get away from this mess."

She tried to pull away, tried to fight against his grip, but her body was weak. The panic, the confusion, the sheer disbelief of her situation had rendered her useless, and all she could do was stand there, clinging to the faint hope that someone—anyone—would come for her.

"You're a fool," Chandler spat, his voice low, seething. "You really think you can play the hero. But you're nothing but a scared little girl. You and your brother—always running, always thinking there's a way out. But you'll never be free."

Suddenly, the world spun. Chandler's hand tightened around her throat, and she gasped, her breath coming in ragged bursts. The pain was sharp, her head spinning as she struggled to draw in air. The alley around her felt like it was closing in, the shadows swallowing her whole.

"Please..." she gasped, barely able to speak through the pain. Her hands scrambled weakly at his grip, but it only tightened. "Please, stop..."

But Chandler just looked at her, his face hard, eyes cold as stone.

"You don't get it, do you?" he sneered, his voice cruel. "This is your end. And your brother's, too. You've both played your part. And now, this is how it ends."

Her vision blurred as her body betrayed her, darkness swallowing the edges of her consciousness. The grip around her throat felt like it was the last thing tethering her to the world, and with every breath she couldn't take, it all became more and more hopeless.

And then, in the quiet, in the stillness of the alley where no one could hear her, a single, fragile thought whispered in her mind.

Her body went limp in Chandler's hands, and as the darkness finally overcame her, she didn't even have the strength to whisper his name.

Rosemary's chest heaved with each breath, the weight of the revelation crushing her heart. She hadn't expected it to be like this—so sudden, so brutal. The alley was quiet, too quiet, as Chandler's cold eyes bore into hers, and everything in her screamed that she needed to escape. But she couldn't. Not now.

Her breath caught, a sob threatening to break free. "Please," she whispered, her voice barely a breath in the heavy silence. "... please, I can't die... not like this."

Chandler's lips twisted into a cruel smile, his fingers tightening around the grip of the gun, his expression unreadable. He had always been cold, but now, there was something else—something darker, more vicious. "You really think that matters to me, Rosemary?" His voice was like poison, sharp and cutting. "You think your life matters in the grand scheme of things?"

Her mind was racing. Rafe... JJ... The people she loved, the ones who kept her tethered to life, and yet... they couldn't save her now. She thought of Rafe's face, his warmth, his touch, his laugh. She thought of JJ, his wild eyes, the way he'd always looked out for her, even when the world turned on them.

"Please..." Rosemary gasped, her voice trembling with desperation. She reached toward him, not sure if she was trying to stop him, or just hold on to the thread of her hope. "Please... don't do this. I won't tell anyone, I swear. You'll never have to see me again. I—"

Her words died in her throat as Chandler took a step back, his eyes cold and empty.

"I can't leave you alive, Rosemary," he said softly. "Too many people know too much. Too many lies you've told. I can't risk it." His fingers twitched, the gun heavy in his hand.

The words hit her like a physical blow. She could feel the blood drain from her face, the reality settling over her like a shadow she couldn't outrun. She hadn't wanted to believe it. She hadn't wanted to acknowledge it. But deep down, she knew it was always coming. The danger had been part of her life from the moment she was born. It had been part of her life since she met Rafe, since the first time she felt that dangerous pull.

"No... please," she cried, her voice cracking, her tears already streaming down her face. She didn't care anymore. All she wanted was to hold on, to hold on to the tiny sliver of hope that she could find a way out.

"I can't die. Please. I need to see them. I need to tell them... I need to tell Rafe..." The sobs came in waves now, the truth of her own mortality threatening to consume her.

Chandler stepped forward, the barrel of the gun aimed squarely at her chest. For a moment, she saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something like regret, or maybe just a flicker of uncertainty. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by cold resolve. "I'm sorry, Rosemary. But I can't let you live."

She looked at him, her heart shattering, a single thought cutting through the fog of fear and pain—JJ's safe. She had to believe that. She had to believe that her brother was out there somewhere, safe from the horrors of this world. That was the last thing she held on to.

Her body tensed, and her vision blurred as Chandler's hand tightened on the gun. She heard the crack of the trigger and felt the sharp pain tear through her, but in the final moments, all she could think about was the life she would never get to share with Rafe.

She had never had the chance to say goodbye to him. Never had the chance to tell him what he meant to her.

Her breaths became ragged as the world around her grew darker. The alley, the people, everything faded, except for the cold reality that she was alone now. And JJ, her brother, who she had fought for, who she had promised to protect, was gone too. She had never known.

She never got to say goodbye.

As the final breath left her body, Rosemary's last thought was of him—her brother, the one she had fought so hard to keep safe. She had saved him. She had to have.

Her eyes remained wide open, fixed on the sky above, lifeless. She didn't know it was too late. She didn't know she had failed in the worst way possible.

────

John B, Kie, and Pope came running through the alley, breathless, fear evident in their eyes. They had been searching for her, calling out her name, following any trace they could find, praying they hadn't lost her.

"Rosemary!" John B shouted, his voice cutting through the night. His eyes scanned the darkness, searching frantically. They'd all known something terrible had happened—they could feel it in their bones—but nothing could prepare them for the sight that awaited them.

Then, they saw her.

Rosemary was crumpled on the cold concrete, her body twisted in an unnatural way, her eyes wide open, staring vacantly at the sky. The light from a nearby streetlamp illuminated her lifeless face, the void in her gaze an unsettling testament to what had happened. A pool of blood stained the alley beneath her, soaking into the ground and pooling around her form. It was as though time had stopped in that very moment, the air thick with disbelief.

"No... no, no..." Kie whispered, her voice shaking, her hands trembling as she reached out to Rosemary. "Please... no..."

John B's eyes darted around, frantic now, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. His breath came in ragged gasps, and it was clear that the world was spinning for him. "Who did this? Who did this to her?!" His voice cracked with pain, the raw edge of grief already clawing at his chest.

They had been too late.

Before anyone could respond, Cleo ran up behind them. Her eyes scanned the scene quickly, and when she saw Rosemary, her breath hitched. "Oh my God," she whispered, rushing forward.

She reached Rosemary's side, but as Cleo knelt beside her, her eyes locked onto something else. Her gaze flicked to the ground nearby, and she froze.

"No..." Cleo's voice was strained, and she swallowed hard, her heart sinking as she turned around quickly, bumping into Rafe, who had just arrived at the scene, breathless, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Rafe—wait! You can't—!"

But Rafe pushed past her without hesitation, his face already contorting with worry and anger. "What happened? What the hell happened to her?" His voice was a harsh whisper, his gaze shifting from Cleo to the scene unfolding in front of him.

Then he saw it.

Rosemary.

His heart stopped, the blood drained from his face as he took in the gruesome sight of her lifeless body lying in the alley. Her eyes were open—unblinking, unmoving—staring out into nothingness. It was like she was still trapped in that final moment, unable to escape.

His legs almost gave out beneath him as his mind scrambled for some kind of explanation that would make sense. But there was nothing. No justification for what he was seeing.

"Rosemary..." he whispered, his voice so soft, it was barely audible. He crouched beside her, his hands shaking as he reached out to touch her, the tears starting to blur his vision. "No. No, this can't be real. You can't..."

Kie and Pope stood in the background, frozen, staring at the ground in disbelief. Kie's tears fell freely now, but she couldn't bring herself to move. The pain was too much. It was too raw.

John B stepped forward, his fists clenched. "Who the hell did this? Who would do this to her?" he growled, his voice cracking. The weight of loss settled heavily on his chest.

But Rafe didn't hear him. He was too lost in his own devastation, kneeling next to Rosemary. He kept whispering her name, as though hoping that somehow, if he said it enough, she would open her eyes and look at him again.

Her death had been too sudden, too violent. He never got to tell her what she meant to him, never got the chance to make things right. And now, he would never have that chance. She was gone.

He turned away, wiping his face with his sleeve, and then, as if something had snapped, he stood up and faced the others.

"We find who did this," he said, his voice low and dangerous, his jaw clenched tight. "We find them, and we make them pay. No one gets away with this. Not her. Not us."

His voice, though filled with pain, was laced with something else. Something darker. A promise, a vow—he would find out who was responsible, and he would make them regret ever crossing him.

Cleo looked at him, her expression conflicted, torn between sympathy for him and the deep horror of the situation. But she said nothing.

John B, Kie, and Pope stood beside him, wordlessly agreeing. They were in this together now. There was no going back.

And Rafe—he would stop at nothing to avenge Rosemary's death.

────

Under the cold, vast expanse of the desert sky, the moonlight cast long shadows over the barren land. The wind blew softly across the sand, whispering through the empty space as if it, too, mourned the loss of two lives—two people who had been stolen from this world far too soon.

John B, Kie, Pope, Rafe, and Cleo stood in a circle, their faces obscured by grief, their hearts shattered as they worked together to bury JJ and Rosemary. Their hands shook as they shoveled sand over their bodies, each handful heavier than the last. The silence between them was suffocating, thick with unspoken words and raw pain. There were no more arguments, no more distractions—just the grim reality of what they had lost.

Rafe stood to the side, his hands caked in dirt, his mind numb with the weight of what had happened. His heart felt hollow, a gaping hole where he had once felt hope, and yet the thought of moving, of leaving this place, felt impossible. He could hardly look at the graves in front of him. His friend .. his Rosemary... they were gone.

His eyes flicked over to Cleo, who had a hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. She had been the first to find them, the first to see their lifeless bodies and try to make sense of it, but nothing made sense anymore. JJ—her best friend, the one she had shared so many memories with—and Rosemary, who had fought so hard to protect him, to protect everyone. They were both gone, buried here in the vast, empty desert.

Kie could barely stand, her knees buckling as she watched the final shovel of sand cover JJ's grave. She wanted to scream, to do something—anything—but her body refused to move. The tears blurred her vision, and it felt like the desert itself was suffocating her, pressing down on her chest, forcing her to face a cruel truth she wasn't ready to accept.

Pope's hand gripped the shovel tightly, his knuckles white with the force of it. But instead, all he could do was bury them. Bury them like they never mattered.

"Why... why did this have to happen?" Kie's voice cracked as she whispered the question into the silence, as though the universe would answer her. But there was nothing. No answer. Nothing but the quiet desert and the agony of loss.

Rafe's chest tightened as he looked at the fresh graves of the woman he had loved, the woman who had saved him in ways he could never repay, and her brother. His breath was shaky, and his hands trembled as he brushed the dirt from his pants, his eyes locking on the place where they would be forever entombed. His heart was suffocating in his chest, the pain of everything he had failed to protect pressing down on him like a thousand bricks.

Rafe stood on the edge of the beach, staring out at the vast expanse of the ocean, as the wind tugged at his hair. His chest ached, a raw, hollow feeling that gnawed at him constantly. The waves crashed against the shore, relentless, like the thoughts that wouldn't stop circling in his mind.

He could still hear MJ's voice, her laughter, that carefree energy she always had. He could picture her as a little kid, all big eyes and messy hair, following JJ around everywhere, her tiny hand clutching his. It used to be like the two of them were inseparable, a force to be reckoned with. Back then, everything had seemed so simple, so innocent. Larissa would watch them, a proud smile on her face as they'd play in the yard, chasing each other or pretending to be superheroes. Rafe remembered it well—how they looked at each other with such unspoken understanding, a bond that nothing seemed to be able to break.

But now, all that was gone.

His eyes squeezed shut as the memory of MJ's smile flickered through his mind, followed by JJ's laugh. He could still hear it, even now, even though both of them were gone. Just like that, ripped away by the storm. The world was quieter without them, emptier. Rafe clenched his jaw and tightened his fists, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill over. He couldn't afford to break. Not now.

He couldn't stop wondering if, in whatever place lay beyond the one they had left behind, MJ and JJ found each other again. Did they run to each other the way they did as kids, arms wide open, no questions asked? Did they pick up right where they left off, no trauma, no pain, no bitter words? Or was it just a cruel twist of fate, a split-second where they could have been together but never would be again?

Rafe didn't know what the answer was.

He wanted to believe that they were happy wherever they were—maybe running across fields of wildflowers, chasing each other. And he thought of Larissa, too. She would have been there, waiting for them, with open arms. It was a bittersweet thought—one that made his heart ache even more, the pain becoming a gnawing thing in his gut. Rafe swallowed hard, unwilling to let his emotions get the better of him.

But in the quiet moments, when the world felt too heavy to bear, Rafe found himself holding on to the belief that MJ and JJ had finally found the peace they deserved. They had always been so close, so wrapped up in each other, so full of love—it was hard to imagine that they would have been separated forever, even in death, they'd found a place together, a place where the chaos, the pain, and the anger couldn't touch them. Where they could laugh again, without fear, without regret. A place where they could be the kids they used to be—happy, carefree, and whole.

Finally, as the last of the sand settled, they all stood, staring at the mounds that marked the graves of two people they would never forget. The stars above twinkled coldly, indifferent to their pain. No comfort. No mercy.

────

authors note:

First of all, I want to thank every single one of you who stuck with this story until the very end. It truly means the world to me that you took the time to read, comment, and share your thoughts on these characters and their journey.

I know this ending wasn't what many of you hoped for, and I owe you an apology for the heartbreak it brought. It was incredibly difficult for me to write, especially saying goodbye to MJ who meant so much to me. Killing her off and choosing not to give MJ and Rafe the happy ending they might have deserved wasn't a decision I made lightly—it felt true to the story, even if it was painful.

Sometimes, stories don't wrap up the way we want them to, and life isn't always kind to the characters we've come to love. I know that might not make it easier to accept, but I hope you can understand the reasoning behind it and appreciate the journey we all shared along the way.

To all of you who commented, messaged, and supported this book, thank you. You kept me motivated and inspired, and your insights made this story even better. I've loved seeing familiar names and hearing your thoughts—whether you were cheering for MJ, rooting for her and Rafe, or cursing me during the darkest moments. You made this journey unforgettable.

While this chapter of my writing has closed, I hope to see many of you again in other books. Thank you for believing in me and my stories. I hope we can meet again in another world, with new characters to fall in love with and new adventures to share.

With love and gratitude,

Graeysonn