Detectives Hale and Vega were hungry for closure. But closure was a luxury Avalon had stopped offering a long time ago.
Mary started down the path, already finished with asking.
Inside the council chamber, the tension thickened, dense enough to press against the skin. Maps, photographs, scribbled notes, and timelines were splashed across the table in organized chaos. Several of the files bore official stamps.
Harmony, Cass, Torie, Tosh, Zach, Lily, and a few others lingered in uneasy clusters. The lights flickered, then hummed like something alive.
Detective Hale cleared her throat. “I won’t sugarcoat this. We believe the person responsible for these deaths is in this room.”
Murmurs rippled across the space like cracks in thin ice.
Detective Vega stepped forward. “We have conflicting statements, altered evidence, and too many coincidences to ignore. But we also have a pattern. Someone here is orchestrating fear—moving others like chess pieces. We’re here to break that pattern today.”
Tosh leaned back, arms crossed. “Then tell us who.”
“We intend to,” Hale said.
Before anyone else could speak, the door creaked open.
Mary entered.
She didn’t say a word.
Her coat was damp at the hem, as if she’d come from somewhere colder than the bluff.
“Glad you made it,” Hale said.
“I always come when I’m invited,” Mary replied. Her voice was calm, almost regal.
“Please sit,” Vega offered.
Mary shook her head. “I’ll stand. It’s better this way.”
Harmony’s voice trembled. “Mary . . . what happened?”
Mary’s eyes found hers—dark, unyielding. “What had to be done.”
The room buzzed. Cass grabbed Torie’s arm. Torie shook her head violently, looking pale. Hale lifted her voice above the noise.
“Let her speak.”
Mary’s gaze swept the room, slow and unhurried. “You’ve all spent years pretending this place is a paradise. Pretending to be good people who only want peace. Avalon has never been a refuge. It’s a hiding place. A pretty mask for ugly truths.”
Zach shifted, uneasy. “Mary?”
She raised a hand. “Don’t. You wanted the truth. Here it is. My daughter died because fools thought they could treat her like she was disposable. Nothing happened to them. Nothing ever happens here.”
She looked at Harmony. Then Cass. Then Torie. Then Zach. And finally Tosh. “And none of you did a thing about it. You simplywatched.”
Harmony stepped closer, voice soft. “Mary, I’m so sorry—”
Mary held up her hand. “I’m done with apologies,” Mary cut in. “I don’t want to hear them. This island lives off excuses. People here pretend to care, pretend to be friends, pretend to stand for justice. But a friend bleeds with you. A friend takes risks. Empty words mean nothing without action.”
Cass’s voice cracked. “Mary . . . did you leave the notes?”
Mary smiled faintly. “Maybe someone wanted you to feel scared the way my daughter felt. Maybe fear is the only language people listen to.”
“That’s not justice,” Zach said quietly.
