I just stand there, no idea where we are or what this place is supposed to be. The others seemed to have found exactly what they were looking for.
But I’m still lost.
“A little backstory?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
Tech straightens away from the girls, grinning as he adjusts his glasses. He’s practically buzzing with the thrill of it all. “The Starline Hotel,” he says, like the name alone explains everything.
It doesn’t. I shrug.
He gestures toward the building. “That used to betheStarline Hotel. Super exclusive. Posh. You know, a place where rich folks like you didn’t have to mix with us commoners.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I mutter, already annoyed. He just smirks and holds up his hand like,Let me finish.“And for the record, I’m not rich,” I add. “My father is.”
While Shawn rolls her eyes at that, Noa lets out a genuine laugh.
Tech starts pacing. “Anyway, here’s the part that matters,” he says. “One night, about forty years ago, there was a fire. One that burned the entire place to the ground—or so the official story goes. A rich white girl named Florence Marsten died that night. And someone had to take the blame.”
I glance over his shoulder to the building that’s definitely not reduced to ash and rubble. It’s standing. Tilted and weathered, but still standing.
“Who told you that?” I ask, my voice low.
Tech pauses, eyes still on the building. When he finally looks at me, the spark has faded into something colder. Angrier. “Everyone and no one,” he says. “The story’s baked into the Collective’s version of history. But here’s the truth: There was no fire. At least, not the way they said. And still, they blamed my Uncle Gabriel. They said he started it. They said he killed her. All without a single piece of evidence.” He swallows, jaw clenched now. His pain is palpable. “My uncle never made it home that night. Or any night ever again. He disappeared.”
My stomach tightens. “Why did they blame him?”
“Because in Cape Hope, the police took the word of a couple anonymous rich kids. That’s all it took. And after that, people started acting like they’d never heard of the Starline Hotel, let alone been there before.”
“Come on,” I say. “Someone had to talk about it.”
“The Collective doesn’t exactly like to advertise its bullshit,” Noa comments. “Especially when the truth could hurt them.” She scans the hotel again before looking back at me. “At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what any of usthinkhappened that night,” she explains. “It’sabout what we can prove. Ever since that tragedy, the rich people of Cape Hope have blamed us for everything. They see Chasers as criminals, no matter what we do.”
She’s right. Jordan even said some were murderers, like it was fact.
“My uncle was innocent,” Tech says, fierce now. “Whatever went down that night, that girl’s death started a war between the Chasers and the Collective that we’re still fighting today. If we can prove that they’re liars, break apart whatever lore they’ve surrounded themselves with, we can shift the balance of power in Cape Hope.”
Shawn steps in, resting her hand gently on his arm, grounding him. Together, they start toward the hotel, its windows reflecting the tree shadows, deep and dark.
Noa and I hang back, falling into step a few paces behind. She doesn’t say anything at first, just glances around as if she’s expecting something to come out from between the trees. Crawl out of the marsh.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her.
“Well…” she says apprehensively. “There was one other thing we didn’t mention. But, uh… a lot of the locals believe this place is haunted.”
I try to shake off the sudden unease creeping up my spine. “By what?” I ask, trying to sound casual. “The girl who died?”
She nods, but her eyes flicker toward the trees again, like she’s listening to something. “Not just about the girl, or even Gabriel,” she says, her voice quieter as if not wanting them to hear her. “It’s the marsh itself. Have you ever really listened to the Everglades?”
I shake my head, not sure what she means. I’ve never cared about this place—never felt the need to. But now, with the way she says it, the trees feels different. Like something is waiting, hidden in the shadows. Watching.
“This place is alive,” she says softly. “And not just because of theplants or animals. People bury their secrets out here. And maybe after all these generations, the place just…” She trails off, her words hanging in the air like a warning.
“Just what?” I ask, barely more than a whisper.
“Maybe it decided to keep them,” she says, her eyes never leaving the trees. “Bury things deep in mud and never let them go.”
Goose bumps rise along my arms, an anxiety I can’t shake. I try to shrug it off, but it doesn’t fade—pressing in around me instead.
Noa hesitates for a moment, and then her voice cracks. “I didn’t tell you earlier, but… my brother ran away last year. I don’t know if you knew that.”
