Dylan twisted the cap back onto the gas tank and wiped his hand on his jeans. "This oughta get us miles," he muttered, then glanced at the group. "You guys ready?"
Ethan leaned against the hood, arms crossed. "Can we bring Yve? I kinda feel safer if she's with us."
Yve crossed her arms, eyes bright. ""I want to come with you," she said lightly. "But Mr. Bodyguard here doesn't."
Ethan pushed. "C'mon, Dyl. Yesterday messed me up. When she's around, I feel—" He trailed off, searching. "Safer."
Dylan slammed the hood shut. "No. If she drains, it could kill her. Ain't happenin'. Not on my watch."
Yve tilted her head, lips curving. "Yes, mother."
He shot her a look. Hard. End of discussion.
She exhaled, the playfulness fading but not gone. "Very well," she said softly. "Just… be careful. Humans break so easily when they believe they're protected."
Footsteps shuffled behind them. Harry approached, a fresh bandage wrapped around his head. "Hey. Uh… should I come with you?"
Maurice barked a laugh. "You serious? You're wrapped up like a mummy and think you're tagging along? Sit your ass down. You ain't Superman."
Harry shrugged, eyes dropping. "Just… feel bad, is all."
Ava walked up, Lara close behind. "Don't," Ava said flatly.
Lara spoke up, quiet but steady. "I'll go. Replace Harry."
Dylan studied her. "You sure? You good scavengin' again?"
She nodded. "Yeah. It's time I actually pull my weight."
Maurice lowered his voice, gentler than usual. "You don't gotta prove nothin'. After what happened… best you sit this one out."
Lara lifted a hand, palm steady. "Hey. I'm okay. I've moved on."
Ava tilted her head, curiosity sharp. "Why? What happened?"
The air thickened. Dylan, Maurice, Ethan, Yve—everyone's gaze shifted, then slid away. Shadows passed across their faces. Not many story. One.
Ava caught it, her tone softening. "Sorry."
Footsteps approached. Mia stood with her head down, voice small. "Can… can I come with you guys?"
Ava's eyes hardened. "Why? So you can steal another vehicle and disappear again?"
Mia let out a careful sigh, shoulders drooping just enough. "I thought about it all night. I—I know I messed up."
Ava snorted and turned away.
Mia pressed on, voice trembling at the edges. "I want to make it right. I really do."
Ava laughed, dry and humorless. "Uh-huh. We'll see."
She yanked the lead car door open and slammed it shut. The sound cut clean through the silence.
The group exchanged looks. Then, inevitably, all eyes went to Dylan. He exhaled through his nose. Long. Tired. "Fine," he said. "You can come."
Mia squealed—too loud, too sharp—and before anyone could react, she threw her arms around him.
Dylan locked up. Didn't move. Didn't touch back.
Yve's mouth fell open. Disgust crossed her face, quick and unfiltered, like she'd tasted something rotten.
Mia pulled away fast, already smiling, and hopped into the military truck like nothing had happened.
Maurice barely got the words out. "I was ridin' with Dy—"
The door slammed shut.
Mia settled into the seat, satisfied.
No one said anything. Dylan stood there, jaw tight. His eyes flicked to Yve—awkward, almost apologetic.
Yve walked up slowly, tapped his shoulder with two fingers. Her smile was crooked, playful on the surface, sharp underneath. "Wellp… take real good care of your passenger princess."
She turned and walked away, leaving Dylan staring after her like he'd just swallowed nails.
The convoy rolled out, engines growling along the cracked road toward another medical facility. Since Serenity had been a bust.
Back at the manor, Lucas crossed the yard in long strides, calling to Elena and Joan as they worked the small patch of green on the left side. "Hey. Jenkins wants a briefing."
They wiped their hands and followed him inside.
The living room was already full. Harry slumped on the couch, Taylor knelt on the rug, changing Tyler.
Jenkins looked up from his clipboard as they entered. He stood, voice clipped. "Good. Now we can proceed."
Derek leaned back in his chair. "So? You find somethin' useful, Doc?"
David snorted, grin crooked. "'Useful' ain't the word I'd use for your lab lookin' like a crime scene."
Jenkins didn't react. "SR-00 was terminated prematurely. The subject experienced catastrophic systemic failure. I performed post-mortem analysis overnight to isolate the causative variables."
He turned a page, cadence unchanged. "My findings are conclusive. Yve's blood exhibits dual-phase properties: viral neutralization and accelerated cellular regeneration. This is supported by observed dermal recovery at the injury site."
He gestured toward her without looking up. "Yve. Please lift your knee and remove the bandage."
Yve slid her leg onto the coffee table and peeled the band-aid away.
The skin beneath was smooth. Pale. Unbroken—save for faint streaks of dried betadine from the day before.
Jenkins nodded once. "As expected. Regenerative kinetics confirmed."
He adjusted his clipboard and continued without pause. "I introduced Yve's blood into SR-00. Initial circulation remained stable. However, upon 20 hours of terminal infusion—the subject exhibited acute systemic rejection. Convulsions escalated rapidly. Hemorrhagic discharge occurred across multiple orifices. Structural integrity failed."
He flipped a page, tone clinical, detached. "Cardiac tissue underwent rapid calcification. A chromatic shift to deep crimson was observed during the terminal phase. Microscopic analysis identified the mechanism: following viral neutralization, Yve's blood initiates cellular regeneration. Necrotic tissue is rejected."
His eyes lifted, sweeping the room. "SR-00, being entirely non-viable, presented one hundred percent necrosis. The result was catastrophic incompatibility. The blood attempted total expulsion of dead matter—effectively dismantling the host from within."
He didn't pause. "Conclusion: siren blood is not merely curative. It is aggressively reconstructive. In a living host, accelerated healing is expected. In a corpse—absolute destruction."
Silence settled over the room. Shock etched every face. Disbelief. A flicker of awe. Fear.
Joan blinked, then slowly raised a hand. "Translation, Doc?"
Jenkins exhaled, the edges of his voice rounding off. "It kills the virus. Then it tries to fix the body. If the body's alive, it heals. If it's dead—"
He stopped, then finished plainly. "It tears it apart from the inside out."
The weight of it landed hard. Several eyes drifted to Yve—wide, measuring. Fear. Awe. Something colder.
Yve stiffened, breath catching. Her voice came out small, almost to herself. "I… didn't know it could do that."
Lucas leaned forward, brow drawn tight. "So what you're saying is—?"
Jenkins cut in. "Affirmative. Reversion of a shrieker to baseline human physiology is infeasible under current parameters. Unless I can attenuate the aggressive properties of siren blood, reversal is not possible."
Harrison spoke up, steady but clinging to hope. "But it could still heal a human, right?"
Jenkins adjusted his glasses. "Potentially. The blood exhibits regenerative capacity, not resuscitative capability. Necrotic tissue cannot be restored. A corpse—particularly one compromised by viral pathology—cannot be revived."
He paused. "I have not yet determined its effects on a living host in early-stage infection. At present, that remains theoretical."
Another beat. Then, precise as ever: "I also lack a viable subject for controlled experimentation. Until such parameters exist, any therapeutic projection remains speculative. For now, the prospect of a cure is suspended."
A fraction of a pause. "However," he continued, gaze sweeping the room, "I will persist in developing a protocol to mitigate siren blood's destructive kinetics."
Silence followed. Not empty—weighted. Hope knotted tightly with dread.
Emily's hand shot up, voice bright. "Then why don't we try it on Harry right now?"
Every head turned. Even Jenkins paused mid-note.
Emily barreled on, unaware of the shift in the room. "I mean—look at Yve's knee. It healed completely. Maybe her blood could fix Harry's head too."
Harrison lifted a hand, voice cutting in fast. "Hold up. Did you not hear a word he just said? That blood is aggressive. What happens if it turns on Harry's system?"
Jenkins nodded once. "Your father's concern is valid, Emily. Furthermore, Harry is not virally compromised. His injury is superficial. Introducing siren blood under these parameters would constitute unnecessary risk."
Emily shrank back into her chair, color rising in her cheeks. "Okay. Sorry."
Jenkins scanned the room. "Any further questions?"
No one spoke. No one moved.
"Good," he said, adjusting his clipboard. "I'll be in the lab. I would prefer not to be disturbed."
He turned and left.
The living room stayed quiet long after—thoughts unspoken, questions hanging in the air like smoke.
~~~
The convoy rolled to a stop outside a facility. The sign read: EVERLEIGH CARE CENTER. The place looked hollow—dark windows, dead air. No shriekers in sight.
Dylan led them in, steps light, voice low as he issued quick orders. Heads nodded. They split.
Ethan and Ava moved down a narrow hall. A shrieker sat strapped to a wheelchair, head twitching. Ethan didn't hesitate. Steel flashed. Quiet returned and they pressed on.
Dylan and Maurice found what used to be a pantry. Two shriekers rushed—both dropped fast. They tore through drawers, cabinets, shelves. A few unopened cans. Boxes of noodles—six months from expiration. Spices, half gone. One freezer packed with rotting meat. Another, vegetables lost to mold.
Still. Food was food.
Maurice clapped Dylan's shoulder. A small win in a dead place.
Dylan swept the dining room—three shriekers down in seconds—then dragged a tray cart back to the pantry where Maurice was bagging what mattered.
Maurice grinned, lifting a box. "Guess we're eatin' good tonight."
Dylan stacked more noodles onto the cart. "Take anything that won't kill us."
Maurice reached for a case of cans—
A rat burst out, claws screeching across metal.
The box slammed to the floor.
Both men froze.
Silence pressed in. Breathing shallow. Ears tuned for anything that didn't belong.
Dylan slid his tomahawk free and eased to the door. He peeked out.
Nothing. No movement. No sound.
He stepped back in, jaw tight, and snapped his flashlight up.
The beam caught Maurice full in the face.
Dylan said nothing. Didn't have to.
Maurice raised a hand, whispering. "Sorry."
Meanwhile, Ethan and Ava slipped into what used to be a recreational room. They moved quiet, peeking through the doorway. Shadows shifted at the far end—movement.
Ava raised her silencer, squeezed. The shrieker dropped, chest blown out. Ethan followed up, two more down before they even turned. Silence reclaimed the room.
Ava whispered low. "Seems like nothing's useful here."
Ethan nodded, scanning the empty shelves. "Yeah… let's check other rooms."
They slid deeper to the right, boots soft on the cracked tiles.
On the other side of the building, Down the hall, Lara and Mia tested doors. Every knob stuck. Kicking was not a choice —noise meant trouble.
Lara exhaled, voice low. "Let's leave it. Cafeteria's our best bet."
Mia perked up. "Oh, we're looking for the cafeteria? That's down the hall where Dylan and Maurice went."
Lara gave her a sharp look. "What? Why didn't you say that? They've probably found supplies...might need our help."
Mia rolled her eyes, a flicker of smugness. "Well… you never said we were looking for the cafeteria.".
"Follow me, I know a shortcut." She added.
Lara frowned. "You've been here before?"
Mia smirked. "Yeah. Had to take care of my mother here."
"Oh… how'd you end up with the Winslows then?" Lara asked.
"I needed money to cover the fees… and the Winslows pay well, not to mention they know my mother so they kinda gave me some extra money. Workload isn't too bad either since they moved to the city."
Lara nodded slowly. "I guess I get that."
Mia tilted her head, curiosity feigned. "You do?"
"Yeah… I was the one caring for my grandma with dementia. She was a handful."
Mia snorted softly. "Well, my mother had Alzheimer's. And frankly? She was annoying most of the time."
They reached the back of the building. Mia gripped the glass door handle—tight, deliberate—and yanked it open. Sunlight spilled across cracked tiles as they stepped into the backyard.
Lara squinted, voice sharp. "How is this a shortcut? We're literally outside."
Mia waved her off. "Relax. The side of the building has a door that connects to the cafeteria. Going back inside means a long walk down the halls."
Lara shrugged. "Okay… you're the one who knows this place."
The sun pressed down like a weight, sweat stinging their eyes as they crept toward the corner of the building. Then—a rustle. Leaves shivered. Low, guttural growls threaded through the heat-thick air.
Lara slowed, steps feather-light, gun raised. Mia's back pressed against the wall, chest tight, breaths shallow. The corner revealed dozens of shriekers, circling, twitching, jaws snapping at nothing, eyes glinting with hunger.
They locked eyes—Lara and Mia. Silent. Sharp. One glance, and both knew: move, now.
Then—
SNAP.
A head jerked toward them, jaw splitting inhumanly wide. The scream ripped through the air, high, bone-deep, slamming into their ears and spine at once.
Every other shrieker froze. Then—turned. Then—
CHARGED.
Lara's chest heaved. "Run!"
They exploded forward. Boots pounded dirt. Lungs burned. Heartbeats hammered in their ears. Behind them, chaos: limbs jerking, claws scraping stone and metal, shrieks shredding the silence, the smell of decay thick in the heat.
A glass door loomed. Mia barreled into it, slamming the handle. "It's—stuck!" Her voice cracked, panic bleeding through every word.
Lara shoved her aside, gun snapping up—
CRACK!
The shot rang like a hammer. Glass shattered into a thousand jagged mirrors, raining down, biting skin and clothes.
They dove through. Tiles scraped boots.
The shriekers didn't stop. They poured through the broken frame, claws screeching against the walls, voices splitting the air like knives.
Lara's heart slammed against her ribs. Mia's breath tore in ragged bursts. The hallway stretched into a tunnel with no end—every step a fight to stay ahead of something that didn't get tired.
On the second floor, Ava yanked the curtains open. Sunlight flooded a room thick with dust and silence. A few unopened snack packs sat on a shelf; Ethan swept them into his bag without comment.
Then—gunshots. Sharp. Echoing.
Both heads snapped toward the door.
"Not again," Ava muttered.
They moved—fast—when Ava froze mid-step. Something outside the window caught her eye. Her stomach dropped.
"Ethan—wait."
He turned. Followed her gaze.
Outside—Lara and Mia sprinted across the yard toward the vehicles, panic etched into every movement. Behind them, a swarm spilled from the building—jerking bodies, snapping jaws, shrieks tearing the air apart.
Ethan was already bracing the rifle against the sill.
CRACK.
CRACK.
CRACK.
Shriekers dropped, folding into the dirt, twitching—but more flooded in, drawn by the noise.
Ava joined him, silencer coughing rounds. Two went down. One staggered. Another kept coming. The air became violence—screams, gunfire, chaos pounding the senses.
Mia glanced back mid-run.
A shrieker lunged.
She veered hard—straight into Lara.
The impact knocked the breath from her lungs. Lara's feet tangled. She went down hard, the ground slamming into her shoulder.
Pain flashed white.
She tried to scramble up. Her hands slipped. Dirt packed under her nails.
"Mia—!" she gasped, already knowing it was too late.
She rolled onto her side, dragged herself backward on elbows that screamed in protest. Her rifle came up shaky but steady enough.
She fired.
CRACK.
CRACK.
A shrieker dropped a few feet away. Another stumbled. Another kept coming.
Her back hit concrete. Nowhere left to go.
She fired again. And again. Each shot louder than her breathing. Closer now—too close. The smell hit her first. Rot. Wet. Hot breath.
She screamed—not long, not loud. Just once.
Then they were on her.
Ava's scream ripped from the second floor, raw enough to cut through the noise. "LARA!"
The swarm swallowed her. Lara's voice vanished beneath the shrieking—teeth tearing, bodies crushing, sound collapsing into something inhuman.
Ethan froze for half a second—shock hollowing him out—then his jaw locked.
He fired until the rifle bucked empty.
CRACK.
CRACK.
CRACK.
Rage shook every shot.
Dylan and Maurice burst through the entrance at the sound of gunfire, weapons already up.
"Move—MOVE!" Dylan roared.
They opened fire into the swarm. Shriekers dropped, bodies jerking in the dirt, but more piled in, claws screeching, jaws snapping, blood slicking the ground beneath them.
Mia vaulted onto the hood of the vehicle, boots scraping metal. She spun, gun shaking in her hands.
CRACK.
CRACK.
Two shriekers folded. She turned back, breath ripping through her chest, ready to scream Lara's name—
But Lara wasn't there.
Her eyes darted wildly. Then she saw it.
Blood. Fresh. Dark. Pooling a few meters away.
A knot of shriekers tore at something on the ground—claws rising and falling, jaws working.
The truth hit like a blade. "No…" Mia whispered. Her voice barely existed.
From the second floor, Ava and Ethan were already moving, pounding down the stairs. Outside, Dylan and Maurice charged forward, firing as they ran.
Maurice's eyes locked onto the scene—Mia alone on the hood, the swarm ahead.
"Lara?" His voice cracked. Then he saw it. The bodies clustered too tightly. The way they moved.
His steps faltered. His face drained as his mind tried, and failed, to reject what his heart already knew.
Bullets tore through the air. Shriekers fell one by one, collapsing in spasms. The last went down with a guttural screech.
Silence crashed in.
They rushed forward, boots skidding through blood. Dylan shoved dead weight aside, hands shaking.
Beneath the heap—
Lara.
"No." Dylan's voice came out low, fractured. His gun hung useless in his grip.
Lara twitched. Coughed.
Blood spilled from her mouth.
She was still alive.
Maurice dropped to his knees, hands trembling as he cradled her head. Tears streamed unchecked down his face.
"No—no, no, no—God, Lara—" His voice shattered.
Her eyes found his. Wide. Aware. Drowning.
She tried to speak. Her lips trembled.
The gash at her neck gurgled instead.
A wet, broken sound rattled out of her throat.
Dylan's gun slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the pavement. His face didn't move—but his eyes went hollow.
Ethan and Ava burst through the entrance and skidded to a stop.
Ava made a sound that wasn't a word.
Lara coughed again, crimson spilling freely now. Her hand twitched. Maurice grabbed it, gripping hard, like he could hold her here by force alone.
"Please—" he sobbed. "Let's get her to Jenkins or Yve—please…"
Her pupils dilated.
Her chest rose.
Fell.
And didn't rise again.
Mouth open as the life in her eyes dimmed, glassy and still, then gone.
Ava and Ethan reached them, breathless.
Maurice sobbed, shoulders shaking as he leaned down and gently closed Lara's eyes with trembling fingers. "Oh God…"
The air hung heavy. Gunpowder. Blood. Grief.
Ava's gaze shifted to Mia. She was still frozen on the hood, mouth parted, staring at Lara's body as if the world had stalled around her.
Ava stepped closer to Lara. The gun felt heavier in her hands now. Her chest hitched as she turned it, barrel lowering toward Lara's heart. A quiet sob slipped out with her breath.
She looked to Maurice.
Their eyes met for a brief second. Then he turned away, jaw tight, unwilling to see it. Ethan stared at the ground, fists clenched so hard his knuckles whitened. Dylan turned his head, gaze drifting somewhere far off, like distance might dull the moment.
Ava closed her eyes.
Click.
The suppressed shot cracked the silence. Soft. Final.
Everyone froze. Breath caught. Hearts hammering. No one spoke. No one moved.
They stayed that way, unmoving, for what felt like forever.
~~~
The manor sat quiet beneath the afternoon sun. Yve laughed softly as she played with the children on the lawn, her voice light, almost musical. Taylor sat nearby, eyes never leaving Tyler, a faint smile resting on her lips.
Then engines cut through the calm.
The scavenging vehicles rolled in slow. Heavy. Like the road itself didn't want to let them go. Doors opened. Boots hit gravel.
Maurice climbed out first. His clothes were stiff with drying blood.
Derek and David, halfway through work on the van, froze. Tools hung useless in their hands. One look at the group was enough. Something was wrong. Bad wrong.
Yve's eyes found Dylan.
Then they drifted past him. To the vehicle behind.
Her breath left her all at once.
She ran to Dylan, panic breaking through her chest. Her hands skimmed over his arms, his shoulders, checking him without thinking. "Wh… what happened?" Her voice cracked.
No blood. No wounds.
She looked back toward the car.
And understood.
Dylan didn't look at her. He stood there, shoulders stiff, jaw tight. His silence said everything he couldn't.
Ava stepped out of the driver's seat. Her face was pale. Set. She didn't say a word. Just walked straight for the house, boots thudding hard against the porch steps.
Lucas stood near the doorway. One look at her face made his stomach sink. He didn't need an explanation. He already knew.
Ava reached the porch just as Emily stepped outside, a basket of clean clothes balanced on her hip. Her voice was light. "Oh hey, sis, you're—"
She stopped.
Her smile fell away. "…Ava?"
Joan came around the side of the manor, a shovel slung over her shoulder. She slowed. Then froze. The tension in the yard hit her full force.
The shovel slipped from her grip and hit the dirt.
Her face drained. "Lara!"
And the world broke.
Lara lay still. Too still. Her body torn open, fragile in a way living bodies should never be. Proof of how easily everything inside a person can be taken away.
Joan collapsed against the doorframe, sobbing as she cupped Lara's face. Her hands shook, streaked red. "No. No, no, no." Her voice splintered, raw and echoing across the yard.
Lara had been her anchor. Forged in blood, fear, and survival. Sisters in everything but name.
Elena stood frozen, tears filling her eyes, heart twisting until it hurt to breathe.
Joan's sobs turned ragged. Loud. Uncontrolled. Reality sank into them all, heavy as stone.
Lucas stepped forward slowly. His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
There were no words left that could fix what was done.
Only Joan's sobs filled the silence. Thick. Suffocating. People avoided each other's eyes, like answers might appear if they didn't look too closely. The sun burned overhead, cruel in its brightness.
Maurice finally moved. His hands shook as he turned back to the car and lifted Lara's body, careful, reverent. "Let's… let's at least give her a proper funeral," he said. His voice barely held together.
David stepped in without a word. Together, they carried her inside.
Only Joan's sobs filled the silence. Thick. Suffocating. People avoided each other's eyes, like answers might appear if they didn't look too closely. The sun burned overhead, cruel in its brightness.
Maurice finally moved. His hands shook as he turned back to the car and lifted Lara's body, careful, reverent. "Let's… let's at least give her a proper funeral," he said. His voice barely held together.
David stepped in without a word. Together, they carried her inside.
Lucas stopped beside Dylan. He searched his face for something solid. "What happened, man?" he asked quietly.
Dylan swallowed. His jaw flexed. "Don't know. Heard shots. By the time we got outside, she was already down." A pause. "Too late."
Ava spun around. "Mia killed her."
The words landed hard.
Every head snapped toward her. Mia stiffened, eyes wide, breath hitching. "What? No, I— I didn't."
Ava stepped off the porch, grief boiling straight into rage. "You really gonna stand there and lie? I saw you shove her out of the way."
Emily reached for Ava's arm. "Ava—" Ava shrugged her off without even looking.
Mia shook her head fast, frantic. "I didn't even know I bumped into her."
Ava laughed once. Sharp. Ugly. "You saw enough to save yourself."
"So what?" Mia snapped back. "You want me dead too?"
Ava froze. Slowly looked at her. "That's what you think helping her meant?"
Mia crossed her arms, defensive, chin lifting. "I'm not obligated to play hero."
"You were obligated to not leave her to die," Ava shot back. "You had time. I watched you. You stopped. You chose."
"You were far away," Mia said quickly. "You don't know what you saw."
"I was on the second floor," Ava said, voice rising. "I had a clear line. She was still moving."
Mia scoffed, irritation bleeding through the cracks. "Funny how it's always my fault when something goes wrong."
Ava stepped closer. "Because it keeps being you."
Mia's eyes flashed. "I was trying to survive."
"So was Lara," Ava said. "Difference is, she didn't throw someone else under the gun to do it."
"That's rich," Mia snapped. "Coming from you."
Ava didn't blink. "Harry's injured because of you. Lara's dead because you left her!"
Mia shook her head violently. "You don't get to make me the villain just because you're grieving."
Joan's head snapped up. Her face was wrecked, eyes red and burning. "You don't get to talk at all."
Mia turned on her instantly. "Oh please. You don't know the hell I've been through."
Joan stepped forward, trembling. "And you don't know the hell we've been through. But we never sacrifice each other."
Mia shoved her.
Joan stumbled back. Derek caught her just in time.
The yard went dead silent.
Ava's voice dropped. Calm. Dangerous. "What hell, Mia?"
Mia hesitated.
"You've been here since the beginning," Ava continued. "And you've never pulled your weight. Not once."
"That's bullshit," Mia snapped. "I'm on the scavenging team."
"You're present," Ava corrected. "That's not the same thing."
Mia laughed bitterly. "So now I'm useless?"
"You only joined when you knew someone like Yve could protect you," Ava said. "Before that? You stayed behind. Every time."
"That's not true," Mia said too fast. "I wanted to contribute."
"Then why didn't you?" Ava fired back. "Before we met them."
Mia opened her mouth. Closed it.
Ava didn't stop. "You eat more than your ration. You take water even when you know we're counting drops. You hide when things get ugly. And the one time someone needed you—"
Her voice broke. Just for a second. "You pushed her away."
Mia's face hardened, stubborn and ugly. "I'm not apologizing for trying to stay alive."
Ava stared at her like she was something rotten. "And that," she said quietly, "is exactly why no one here trusts you anymore."
Lucas leaned in close to Dylan, voice tight and urgent. "Get Harrison. He's the only one who kept this from blowing up yesterday."
Dylan nodded once. No words. He turned and headed inside, boots hitting the floor hard, fast, like he needed the noise to drown something out.
Yve stepped forward carefully, hands clasped in front of her, voice gentle but strained. "Please. This isn't helping anyone. We're all hurting."
Mia snapped toward her like she'd been struck.
"Don't," she hissed. "Don't pretend you're some kind of peacekeeper."
Yve froze.
Mia took a step closer, eyes glassy, unfocused. "Ever since you showed up, everything's gone to hell. Fights. Death. People turning on each other."
Ava reacted instantly. "Don't you dare put this on her."
Mia laughed, sharp and hollow. "Oh, so she's untouchable now?"
Ava moved closer, shoulders squared. "She didn't shove Lara into a swarm. You did."
Mia's breath started coming fast. She shook her head like she could dislodge the words. "If she had gone instead… if Lara stayed back like she was supposed to… none of this would've happened."
Ava stared at her, stunned. "You're blaming the wrong person because you can't stand the truth."
Derek tried to cut in. "Mia, stop. This isn't—"
"And you," Mia snapped, spinning on him. "You don't get to talk. None of you do."
Lucas stepped forward, palms out. "Mia. Enough. Everyone needs to breathe."
Too many voices. Too many eyes.
They were all facing her now.
Mia's chest tightened. Her heart hammered like it was trying to claw its way out. She backed up a step without realizing it. "Why are you all looking at me like that?"
No one answered.
Ava didn't break eye contact. "Because someone's dead. And you won't even admit what you did."
"That's not fair," Mia said, voice breaking. "You weren't there. You didn't feel what I felt."
"What, fear?" Ava shot back. "We were all afraid."
"No," Mia snapped. "You weren't alone."
The words hung there. Ugly. Revealing.
Her breathing turned shallow. Her hands shook at her sides. The world felt like it was closing in, walls inching closer with every heartbeat.
"Stop talking," she said, voice rising. "Just stop."
No one did.
The pressure snapped.
"SHUT UP!"
The scream tore out of her, raw and unfiltered. Her hand flew to her side, fingers closing around cold metal. She didn't think. She reacted.
The gun came up.
Not aimed yet. Just there. Between her and them.
Taylor moved instantly, scooping the kids in and turning her body, shielding them without a word.
Everything froze.
No shouting now. No accusations. Just the sound of Mia's uneven breathing and the weight of the weapon in her hands.
Lucas lifted his palms higher, voice steady, careful. "Mia. You're scared. I get that. But this isn't the way."
He took a slow step forward.
Yve's hand caught his wrist. Firm. "Let me."
Lucas hesitated, then nodded, stepping back.
Mia's eyes flicked between them, wild, wet with tears. "You're all against me," she said hoarsely. "Every time something goes wrong, it's me. Always me."
Yve stepped forward, hands raised, voice soft and calm, like smoothing water over broken glass. "No one here wants to hurt you. We just want the truth."
The barrel lifted.
It pointed at Yve now, shaking but deliberate.
"Don't," Mia warned, voice cracking. "Don't come any closer."
Yve stopped immediately.
"If you take one more step," Mia said, tears spilling freely now, "I swear I'll do it."
No one breathed.
The gun trembled in Mia's hands, not from rage now, but from exhaustion. Her arms burned. Her fingers ached from gripping too tight.
Yve tilted her head slightly, studying her, not the weapon. "You're tired," Yve said softly. Not a question. An observation.
Mia barked a humorless laugh. "Don't psychoanalyze me."
"I'm not," Yve replied. "I'm stating something true."
Ava shifted her weight, teeth clenched. "Yve—"
Yve lifted one finger without looking back. Ava stopped.
Yve took a small step forward. Slow enough to count the seconds between heartbeats.
Mia's grip tightened. "I said don't."
"I know," Yve said. "And I stopped."
She did not step again.
"You're holding that gun like it's the only thing keeping you upright," Yve continued. "That tells me you don't want to use it. You just don't want to fall."
Mia swallowed hard. Her jaw quivered. "You don't know anything about me."
Yve nodded once. "That's true. I don't."
Another step. Careful. Respectful.
"But I know this," Yve said. "If you wanted us dead, you would've pulled the trigger already."
Silence pressed down.
Lucas spoke quietly, almost conversational. "She's right, Mia. You're not a killer."
Mia snapped her eyes toward him. "Stop labeling me like you've figured me out."
"I'm not," Lucas said evenly. "I'm reminding you who you were yesterday."
Mia laughed again, brittle. "Could've fooled me."
Yve took another step. Close enough now. "I've lived a very long time," Yve said. "Long enough to recognize when someone is being crushed by fear instead of guided by malice."
Mia's shoulders sagged just a fraction.
Her gun dipped. Barely.
The porch creaked as Dylan and Harrison stepped outside.
Dylan froze mid-stride. The gun was aimed at Yve.
His body moved before his mind caught up. Weapon up. One step closer. He planted himself at Yve's side like a wall.
Yve felt it immediately. She turned just enough to see him in her peripheral vision.
"Stand down, Dylan," she said, calm but firm. "Lower your gun. You're making it worse."
Mia let out a harsh, broken laugh, eyes flicking between them.
"Wow," she said, voice shaking. "Look at that. You don't even hesitate." Her gun rose in return, aimed directly at Dylan.
Yve's gaze darted between them. She understood in a heartbeat.
Before Dylan could move, Yve shoved herself in front of him, arms spread, body a shield.
Yve tried again, quieter now. "Dylan. Please."
His jaw flexed. For a moment it looked like he wouldn't listen. Then, with visible effort, he lowered the barrel. Not fully. Just enough to show restraint.
Still ready.
Yve stepped forward, slow and open, palms visible.
"Mia," she said gently. "Breathe. You're safe. No one is trying to hurt you."
Dylan shifted with her, a half step behind, every muscle coiled.
Mia's chest rose and fell too fast. Her arms trembled. The gun dipped a fraction.
She noticed.
Her eyes snapped to Yve's hands. To Dylan's presence at her shoulder. To the way the space around Yve felt protected, unquestioned.
Something twisted hard inside her.
Her thoughts spiraled, loud and frantic.
"Why is it lowering?"
"Why can't I stop it?"
"Is she doing this?"
Her face contorted, fear bleeding into rage. "Stop it," she gasped. "Stop messing with my head!"
Yve stilled. "Mia, I'm not—"
BANG.
The shot ripped the air apart.
Blood exploded across Dylan's face and shoulders.
Time stretched. Every sound warped, elongated—the shot ringing in their ears, echoing against yard, against the ground, against their bones.
Dylan's eyes widened, pupils sharp and unblinking. The world seemed to tilt around him.
Yve staggered, movements heavy, almost floating, and then she crumpled toward him. He lunged instinctively, arms wrapping around her fragile frame. They fell together, the ground seeming to slow its approach.
Yve shivered in his arms, crimson spreading across her chest.
"No!" he screamed, raw and guttural, voice splitting the air.
His eyes lifted toward Mia, and time stretched further—the way her chest rose, her fingers trembling on the gun, the flash of fury, jealousy, panic, and fear that twisted her face.
Muscles coiled, jaw tight, and without thinking, he raised his gun, fury in his eyes.
BANG!