Mira's POV
I lunged at Mrs. Rodriguez and grabbed her shoulders.
"What do you mean they're gone?" My voice came out harsh and desperate. "Show me! I need to see them!"
"Mira, stop—" Sarah tried to pull me back.
"NO!" I shook free. "Mrs. Rodriguez, please! Where are the bodies?"
Mrs. Rodriguez's face crumpled. "The paramedics took them... they said... oh God, I can't—"
She collapsed into sobs. A neighbor rushed over to hold her up.
I ran toward the ambulance. The paramedics were closing the back doors. The stretcher with the white sheet was inside.
"Wait!" I shouted. "Wait, please!"
One paramedic turned. "Miss, you can't—"
"That's my best friend under there! I need to see him!"
The paramedic's expression softened. "I'm sorry. But the bodies are badly burned. You don't want to remember him that way."
Bodies. He said bodies. Plural.
My legs gave out. I sat down hard on the street.
This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening.
Damien was dead. Emma was dead. All because I started asking questions. All because I wouldn't just let it go.
Victoria's message burned in my mind: *Now look what you made me do.*
Sarah knelt beside me. "Mira, we have to leave. If Victoria burned down this house, she might come back to make sure—"
A phone rang. Not mine. Not Sarah's.
It was coming from Mrs. Rodriguez. The neighbor helped her answer it.
"Hello?" Mrs. Rodriguez's voice shook. She listened for a moment. Then her face changed. The grief twisted into confusion. "What? I don't... what are you talking about?"
She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it like it had grown teeth.
"That was someone from Saint Mary's Hospital," she whispered. "They said... they said Damien and Emma are there. They said they're alive."
The world stopped spinning.
"What?" I jumped to my feet. "That's impossible. The paramedics said—"
"I know what they said!" Mrs. Rodriguez grabbed my arm. "But the hospital has them. They're in the burn unit. They're alive!"
Sarah and I looked at each other. Then we both looked at the ambulance pulling away.
"If Damien and Emma are at the hospital," Sarah said slowly, "then who's in that ambulance?"
Nobody answered.
A firefighter walked up to us. "Mrs. Rodriguez? We found something you should see."
He held out a phone. Cracked screen. Covered in soot. But still working.
"We found this in the upstairs hallway. It was recording. Someone started this video right before the fire began."
He pressed play.
The video was shaky and dark. But I could hear Damien's voice clearly:
"My name is Damien Rodriguez. If you're watching this, it means something bad happened to me. I need to tell the truth about what happened at Nationals."
My heart hammered.
"Three days before our performance, a woman named Victoria Cross threatened my little sister. She said if I didn't drop Mira during our throw quad, Emma would get hurt. She showed me photos of Emma at school. She told me she had people watching our house."
The video jerked. Smoke was starting to fill the frame.
"I was going to tell the truth after Nationals. I swear I was. But then I got scared. Victoria said if I talked, she'd know. She'd hurt Emma anyway. So I kept quiet. And I lost my best friend."
Damien's voice cracked. He was crying.
"Mira, if you're watching this, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. You trusted me and I destroyed everything. I don't expect you to forgive me. I just need you to know—I never wanted to hurt you. I was trying to protect Emma. I hope you understand."
More smoke. Damien coughed.
"Victoria set my house on fire tonight. I know it was her because she texted me five minutes ago. She said: 'You should have kept your mouth shut.' I didn't tell anyone anything. But she doesn't believe me."
A crash in the background. Something falling.
"Emma and I are getting out through the window. Mom and Dad aren't home. We're going to the fire escape. But if we don't make it... if something happens... I need people to know the truth. Victoria Cross is dangerous. She's hurt a lot of skaters. She needs to be stopped."
Another crash. Closer.
"The phone records are in my closet. Bottom drawer. Hidden under my old skates. All my conversations with Victoria. All the threats. Everything you need to prove what she did."
The video started to cut out. But I heard Damien say one more thing:
"Mira, you're the best partner I ever had. The best friend I ever had. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to tell the truth sooner. I hope you make it to the Olympics. You deserve it. You deserve everything."
The video ended.
I stood there, frozen.
The firefighter pointed toward the house. "We found the phone records. Just like he said. They're evidence now."
Mrs. Rodriguez was sobbing again. But this time it was relief. "He's alive. They're both alive. We need to go to the hospital. We need to—"
"Wait." Sarah held up her hand. "If Damien and Emma escaped through the window, and nobody died in the fire, then who's in that ambulance?"
The firefighter frowned. "What ambulance?"
"The one that just left! With the body! We saw the paramedics put a stretcher in—"
"Ma'am, we didn't transport any bodies. Everyone got out of the house. There were no fatalities."
Ice ran through my veins.
"But we saw it," I said. "White sheet. Covered body. The paramedic told me the bodies were badly burned—"
"That wasn't one of our paramedics," the firefighter said firmly. "That must have been someone else."
Sarah grabbed my arm so hard it hurt. "Mira. Someone faked that ambulance. Someone wanted us to think Damien was dead."
"But why?"
"To see how you'd react. To see what you'd do." Sarah's face was pale. "This was a test. And I think we failed."
My phone buzzed. Another message:
Very touching. You really do care about your traitor friend. That makes this next part easier. Damien has evidence against me. I can't let him testify. The hospital he's at? Saint Mary's? I have people there. He won't survive the night. Unless...
"Unless what?" I whispered out loud.
Another message:
Unless you make a deal. Come to the old ice rink on Maple Street. Alone. No Sarah. No police. Just you. We'll trade. Your life for his. You have one hour.
Sarah read over my shoulder. "No. Absolutely not. This is a trap."
"I have to go."
"She'll kill you!"
"She'll kill Damien if I don't!" I pulled away from her. "This is my fault. All of it. I started investigating. I wouldn't let it go. And now Damien might die because of me."
"You can't save him by getting yourself killed!"
"Maybe I can." I looked at her. "You have the evidence now. Damien's phone records. His video confession. The proof that Victoria threatened him. You can take her down even if I'm not here."
"Mira—"
"Take care of my family," I said. "Tell my parents I love them. Tell Tommy I'm sorry I won't be there for his birthday."
I started running before she could stop me.
Behind me, Sarah screamed my name.
But I didn't stop.
I had one hour to get to the old ice rink on Maple Street.
One hour to face Victoria Cross.
One hour to end this, one way or another.
My phone buzzed one more time. A message from a number I didn't recognize:
*Don't go to that rink. It's a trap. Victoria doesn't want to trade. She wants to kill you both. Meet me at the fountain in Central Park instead. 45 minutes. I'll tell you how to actually save Damien. And how to destroy Victoria forever. Trust me. I'm the only real friend you have left.*
The message was signed:
Your Uncle Marcus
I stopped running.
Uncle Marcus. The man Sarah called. The man who told me not to trust anyone. Not even Coach Maria.
Was this really him? Or was this another trap?
I looked at the two messages. The old ice rink. Central Park fountain.
Two different locations. Two different people claiming they could help.
One of them was Victoria, trying to kill me.
But which one?
I had forty-five minutes to decide.
And if I chose wrong, Damien would die.