Mercy stood at the edge of the frozen pond, the cold biting through her boots until she couldn't feel her toes. Her breath curled out in shaky bursts, mist swirling around her face like ghosts that wouldn't settle.
Chris was behind her somewhere, muttering into his palms, his footsteps crunching over dead leaves and broken twigs. She didn't look at him. Couldn't. Not now.
All she saw was the water — black ice and rippling shadows where Liam's reflection used to live. Her phone buzzed again in her pocket, steady as a heartbeat.
She pulled it out. Cracked screen, half-dead battery. Still, the words glowed so clear they might have been carved into her bones.
"Don't be afraid."
A soft sound slipped from her throat. It wasn't a sob — not exactly. More like a laugh strangled by hope. Mercy swiped at her damp cheeks, blinking at the reflection of herself in the dark glass of the phone.
She whispered to it, her voice steady even though her hands shook.
"Then show me, Liam. Show me where you are."
Behind her, Chris called her name — his voice sharper now, splintered with panic. "Mercy, listen to me — we have to go. Now. I swear to God, we can't stay here—"
She ignored him. The phone buzzed again, vibrating so hard she nearly dropped it. Another message flickered:
"Closer."
Mercy took a step forward, boots sinking through the crust of half-melted snow. The ice at the pond's edge cracked under her weight. She could hear it — tiny pops and groans, like the frozen water was waking up after years of secrets.
"Mercy!" Chris's hand clamped around her arm, jerking her backward. His grip was rough, too rough. "You're going to drown yourself! There's nothing out there — it's just ice and old bones—"
She spun, eyes blazing. "Old bones? You knew." Her voice was sharper than the wind. "You knew where he was."
Chris's mouth opened. Closed. The shadows under his eyes made him look older than twenty-two. Older than the friend who used to stand behind Liam at every dumb high school fight, laughing, swearing he'd always have their backs.
Mercy yanked her arm free. The pond behind her moaned under the wind. The phone buzzed again — stronger, so loud it rattled her teeth.
"Now."
She stepped onto the ice. Chris lunged to grab her, but this time she dodged him. Cold bit into her ankles as water seeped through her worn boots. She didn't care. All she could hear was Liam's voice — not through the static this time, but inside her own head, clearer than ever.
"Mercy, don't be afraid."
She took another step. Another. The world went silent — except for her heartbeat and the groan of the frozen lake.
Then the ice cracked — not under her, but near the center, where the shadows twisted in a shape too human to be a trick of the dark. Something bobbed up just under the surface — pale, drifting, a glimpse of a sleeve, a lock of hair frozen in the black water.
Mercy dropped to her knees. Cold shot up her bones like lightning. Her fingers scraped at the ice, numb and raw. The phone slipped from her grasp, landing face-up beside her knee, buzzing wildly.
She didn't feel Chris grab her shoulders again, didn't hear him cursing under his breath. She just pressed her palm flat against the ice where the shape drifted — where Liam was waiting.
"I'm here," she whispered. Her tears hit the frozen surface, tiny cracks spreading like veins under her skin.
Chris knelt beside her, breath ragged. "Mercy — I'm sorry. I swear I didn't mean to. We were kids — we were drunk — I thought he'd come back up—"
She didn't look at him. Her eyes stayed locked on the shadow under the ice. Liam's shadow.
"You didn't pull him out," she murmured. "You let him drown."
Chris flinched like she'd struck him. "Mercy, I tried — I swear — I tried—"
A low hum rose from the phone. The screen flickered bright enough to light up Chris's guilty face — pale and sick in the cold.
Mercy watched the shape drift closer to the ice. It stopped right under her palm, like he was reaching back. For the first time in months — maybe years — Mercy felt something warm flicker in her chest. It wasn't anger. Or grief. Or fear. It was Liam.
She pressed her lips to the ice, ignoring the burn of the cold. Her voice was steady.
"I'm here, Liam. I promise. I'll bring you home."
The phone flashed once — so bright it seared her eyes — then went dark. The pond fell silent again, the water still except for the tiny ripples under her fingertips.
Chris staggered to his feet, stumbling backward. "We have to go — we have to call someone — Mercy, please—"
But she didn't hear him. She was already crawling backward, palms numb, heart pounding like a drum in her ribs. When she reached solid ground, she sat there, hugging her knees to her chest, phone dead in her palm but warm like it still held Liam's voice inside.
Chris hovered near the tree line, breath fogging out like a guilty ghost. He opened his mouth — but she cut him off with a look so sharp he swallowed whatever lie he was about to spill.
"We're going to dig," Mercy said, voice calm, final. "Tomorrow. Tonight. I don't care. We're bringing him home."
Chris's shoulders slumped. He looked at the ground, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets. For a second, he almost looked like the boy she'd trusted once — the boy who'd sworn to always protect her and Liam both.
"You shouldn't do this alone," he muttered.
Mercy stood slowly, her knees trembling. She walked past him, back into the trees, her phone dead in her palm but her heart beating steady for the first time in forever.
She didn't look back. "I'm not alone."
Hours later, back in her room, Mercy sat on the floor beside her bed, the ghost phone charging beside her. Kara hovered in the doorway, wide-eyed, her hands fluttering like startled birds.
"Did you find him?" Kara asked, voice hushed.
Mercy looked up at her sister and nodded once. Just once. Enough. "I found where he waited."
Kara crossed the room, dropped to her knees, and pulled Mercy into her arms. Mercy let herself be held — just for a moment — her cheek pressed to Kara's shoulder, the cold still clinging to her clothes, to her skin. But inside, she felt warm — burning with purpose.
The phone buzzed once on the floor, screen blinking awake. Kara flinched, but Mercy didn't. She reached for it, thumb brushing over the cracked glass. One final message for the night.
"Thank you."
Mercy smiled. Soft. Sad. Sweet.
"I promised you," she whispered to the dark. "I'll keep my promise."