The knock echoed through the boathouse like a gunshot.
Knock.
Slow. Patient. Certain.
I stopped breathing.
Serafin's hand tightened around mine, his thumb pressing into my knuckles—a silent warning. Don't move. Don't answer. Don't exist.
The door creaked slightly under another test—creeaaak—wood complaining but holding.
"Caoimhe," the voice called softly. Too softly. "You don't need to be afraid."
I bit down hard on my lip to keep from laughing. Afraid didn't even begin to cover it.
Serafin leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear. "If they come in, stay behind me."
"And if they don't?" I whispered.
"Then they're waiting for you to break first."
The wind rattled the loose metal siding—clang… clang—masking the sound of footsteps shifting outside.
"Open the door," the second voice said, sharper now. "This doesn't have to get ugly."
I swallowed. My chest burned. "It already is."
Serafin glanced at me, surprised. I hadn't meant to say it out loud.
Silence stretched. Then a sigh. "You always were stubborn."
That voice.
Something inside my head twisted painfully, like a locked door being forced open.
"No," I whispered. "That's not—"
My phone vibrated violently—bzzzzt—and I nearly dropped it. A call. Unknown Caller.
Serafin shook his head. "Don't."
"I have to," I said. "I need answers."
I answered, pressing the phone to my ear with shaking fingers. "What did I see?"
Static exploded—SSSSHHHH—then the voice slid in, closer than before. "You saw him get pushed."
My vision blurred. "Liar."
"Liam didn't slip," the voice continued calmly. "He argued. He threatened. And when he turned his back—"
"Stop," I gasped.
"You screamed," the voice said. "Not when he fell. When you realized who did it."
A memory slammed into me without warning.
Hands. Not Liam's. Someone else's.
A shove.
Liam stumbling, eyes wide, reaching—
"No!" I cried, clutching my head.
Serafin caught me as my knees buckled. "Caoimhe. Look at me."
I shook violently. "It wasn't me."
"I know," he said firmly. "Stay with me."
Outside, voices erupted.
"She's inside."
"Open it. Now."
The door shuddered under a heavy hit—BANG—dust raining from the beams above.
Serafin pulled me back toward the rear of the boathouse. "There's another way out."
Another hit—BANG—wood splintering.
"They killed him," I whispered. "And they let me run."
"Yes," Serafin said. "Because you didn't know yet."
A plank cracked—CRACK—and moonlight spilled through a widening gap.
"Caoimhe!" someone shouted. "You don't understand what you're remembering."
"Oh, I fucking do now," I screamed back.
Serafin kicked open the back door—THUD—and cold air slammed into us as we stumbled onto wet sand. The tide was coming in fast—hiss, pull, crash—waves clawing at the shore.
"They're trying to frame you," Serafin said urgently. "If you remember the face—"
"I already am," I said, breath hitching. "I just don't want to."
A flashlight beam swept across the sand—click—too close.
"Run!" Serafin shouted.
We ran along the shoreline, boots slipping—squelch, splash—the roar of the sea drowning out everything but my heartbeat.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
My phone buzzed again. A message.
You were never meant to remember me.
I stopped dead.
Serafin yanked me back just as a hand grabbed where I'd been standing—swish—fingers grazing empty air.
"Don't stop!" he yelled.
But it was too late.
The fog thinned just enough for me to see him.
Standing near the rocks. Watching. Smiling.
The memory locked into place with sickening clarity.
"Oh my God," I whispered. "It was you."
The figure stepped forward, voice carrying easily over the waves. "You always were smart. Just too late."
Serafin moved in front of me, body tense. "Back away."
The man chuckled. "You can't protect her forever."
"I don't need forever," Serafin said. "Just long enough."
The tide surged suddenly—CRASH—water rushing higher, cutting off our path back.
The man tilted his head. "Careful, Caoimhe. The sea remembers too."
My phone vibrated one last time in my hand—bzzzzt—screen lighting up with a single sentence.
If you speak, you drown us all.
I looked at Serafin, at the rising water, at the man whose face I now knew by heart.
And I realized remembering was only the beginning.