CAMILA POV
His grip is too familiar.
Not painful. Not violent.
Just… possessive.
Dillon stands inches from me, rain sliding down his face, curls plastered against his forehead. He looks almost boyish, if not for the darkness in his eyes.
"You shouldn't run alone," he says softly. "You never were good at it."
I try to pull free, but he tightens his hold. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me: he could.
"Let go," I whisper.
He laughs , low, amused. "Still fragile. Still trembling… even after all that training."
He leans in closer, voice dropping. "Solano always said you had potential. But I guess he never managed to break you the way he wanted."
My stomach twists.
"Alex will find me," I say, steady but quiet.
"Oh, I know." Dillon lets go , slowly , sliding his hand down my arm in a way that feels like a threat disguised as affection. "I'm counting on it."
He looks me over, eyes sharp, calculating.
"You kept something from us," he says. "Something even Solano couldn't force out."
I shake my head. "I don't know anything."
"You do." He steps closer, voice softening , chilling me more than shouting would. "You just don't know you know it yet."
Lightning cracks above us , and for a moment, I swear I see grief in his eyes. Or longing. Or something lost.
It's gone in an instant.
Dillon tilts his head. "You shouldn't blame me. I was raised in that house too. We were all just… surviving."
"You made choices," I say. "We all did."
That gets him. His jaw tightens.
Then he reaches into his jacket and pulls something out , not a gun, not a blade, but a folded piece of paper.
He opens it slowly. Holds it out.
Rain blurs the ink , but I still recognize the handwriting.
My breath stops.
It's my mother's.
"She's the one who started this," Dillon says. "Not Solano. Not Alex. Not me."
My hands shake as I take it , a fragment of a life I barely remember.
"What does it mean?" I whisper.
"That," he says, stepping backward into the shadows, "is for Alex to decide."
Branches snap behind us.
Dillon's eyes flick in that direction , and he smiles just once, sly and secretive.
"He's close."
Then he melts into the trees , gone.
Just like that.
And I'm alone again.
Holding a letter from a dead woman, rain washing over my hands.
Then,
"Camila!"
Alex bursts through the brush, soaked and wild-eyed. Blood streaks his arm, but he doesn't seem to notice. He sees me , alive , and freezes.
For a second, the world stops.
He moves to me in three long strides and pulls me into his arms, holding me so tightly it almost hurts. I don't care. I cling to him like breath, like safety, like I've been waiting my whole life to be found like this.
"You're okay," he whispers against my hair, voice rough, breaking. "You're okay."
It doesn't feel like he's talking to me.
It feels like he's praying.
"I told you I'd find you."
"You always do."
He leans back, cupping my face, searching for damage, bruises, anything wrong.
"Did he hurt you?"
"No. He, he gave me something."
I unfold the paper and hand it to him.
Alex doesn't rush. He takes it carefully , like it's something precious , and reads it in silence.
His expression changes slowly. First confusion. Then recognition. Then something darker , heavier.
"Alex?" I whisper. "What is it?"
He lifts his eyes to mine , and this time, I see fear.
"It's a location," he says.
"Where?"
His voice drops.
"The place where your mother died."
ALEX POV
The forest swallows us again as we move , slower now, careful, alert.
But the danger isn't the trees. It's the letter in my pocket.
A map. A message. A warning.
She didn't just die.
She planned for someone to find this.
I keep one hand free, the other wrapped around Camila's wrist , part protection, part instinct, part proof she's still here.
She's too quiet.
"You're thinking too loud," I murmur.
She looks up. Rain glistens on her eyelashes. "I don't remember her face. Not anymore."
"You will."
"I don't know if I'm ready."
"You don't have to be."
We keep walking.
In the distance, thunder rolls , less like weather now, more like war drums.
She stays close , always, now , stepping where I step, trusting each move.
When the cabin is finally behind us and only the forest remains, she speaks again.
"Alex?"
"Hm?"
"If we go to that place… the place where she died…"
"I know."
"You think we'll find answers?"
I stop.
Turn to her.
Brush a strand of wet hair from her cheek.
"No," I say softly. "I think we'll find the truth."
She nods, but she's trembling , from cold or fear, I can't tell. I shrug off my jacket and drape it around her shoulders.
She stares at me for a long moment.
"You always do that," she whispers.
"What?"
"Make me feel like I'm not alone."
"You're not."
She steps closer , too close , her voice barely breathe:
"Don't let go of me."
"I won't," I say, without hesitation.
Not now.
Not ever.
Far behind us, in the dark,
A phone vibrates in a dead man's pocket.
Ethan answers.
"She's still alive," he says.
A pause.
A voice replies , cold, amused, cruel.
"Good. She still remembers nothing."