Chapter 18 The Camp Invitation
The crumpled parchment made a bulge in Silas’s pocket, visible even from across the room. Mia couldn’t stop staring at it—evidence of her forgery, her manipulation, sitting right there in his possession.
Elara drifted back toward them after a few minutes, her smile looking forced. She touched Silas’s arm, her voice soft. “What was that really about? That note looked…”
Silas’s transformation was immediate. The cold fury melted into lazy arrogance, his posture shifting from rigid to relaxed in a single breath. He smoothed the bulge in his pocket with exaggerated care, then smiled down at Elara with practiced charm.
“Just some character work, like I said. Diving deep into our doomed brother’s psychology.” He tapped his temple. “Method acting. Very emotionally draining.” His smile turned playful, almost boyish. “I think I deserve some kind of reward from my brilliant director. Don’t you?”
Elara’s tension dissolved like sugar in water. She laughed—a real laugh this time—and swatted his chest. “Your reward is getting to perform my incredible material. That’s more than enough.”
“Is it though?” Silas’s tone was teasing, flirtatious even. The perfect boyfriend.
Mia watched the performance with something between admiration and disgust. The switch had been so smooth, so complete. If she hadn’t seen the fury in his eyes thirty seconds ago, she’d believe this version was real.
“Besides,” Elara continued, linking her arm through his and turning her head just enough to include Mia in her glance, “I have a date with Mia this weekend. Girls’ time. You’re not invited.” She finished the statement with a slow, suggestive wink aimed directly at Mia.
Mia stared back, her expression one of pure ignorance. She had no memory of any such plan.
Silas caught Mia’s eye over Elara’s head. The playful mask stayed in place, but his eyes held a clear warning. Don’t push. Not again.
As rehearsal wound down, people started packing up. Marcus was coiling cables. Sarah and Ben were debating where to get dinner. The usual end-of-practice chaos.
Elara clapped her hands, the sound cutting through the noise. “Hey, everyone! Before you all scatter…” She waited until most of the cast was paying attention. “A few of us are going up to Pine Ridge this weekend. Just overnight, back Sunday morning. One last bonding experience before tech week makes us all homicidal.”
A few people laughed. Someone asked about sleeping arrangements.
Elara’s smile swept the room, landing on Mia with focused warmth. “Mia, you should absolutely come. You’ve been working so hard, and honestly, you need to see there’s more to St. Augustine’s than your room, libraries and this dusty theater.” She made it sound like the world's best adventure. “Say yes! It’ll be fun.”
Mia hesitated. A weekend camping trip with the drama club. In the woods. Isolated. With Silas and whoever else might be involved in whatever conspiracy she’d stumbled into.
It was either the perfect opportunity to find answers or a spectacularly bad idea.
“I don’t really camp,” she said weakly. “I wouldn’t even know what to bring.”
“We’ll have all the gear!” Elara insisted. “Tents, sleeping bags, everything. You literally just need to show up. Please? It won’t be the same without you.”
From across the room, Silas’s voice cut through the warmth like a knife. “Why are you inviting the country bumpkin?” His tone was dismissive, almost cruel. “She’ll probably be scared of the dark. Or allergic to fresh air.”
The insult landed in the middle of the conversation like a stone in still water. A few people laughed, some shifted uncomfortably. Jessica snickered.
Elara shot him a look—disappointed but fond, like scolding a misbehaving puppy. “Silas, be nice. Mia’s one of us now.” She turned back to Mia, her expression pleading. “Ignore him. He’s got the attitude of a wild cat, but I promise he’s harmless. Please come?”
The opposition was what decided it. If Silas didn’t want her there, she absolutely needed to be there.
Mia met his stare across the theater. His expression was controlled, but she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers had curled into a loose fist.
“I’d love to,” she said clearly. “Thank you for inviting me, Elara.”
Then, before she could second-guess it, she added, “After all, I’m not afraid of the dark.” She held Silas’s gaze, letting a thin smile curve her lips. “And I certainly won’t lower myself to a murderer’s level… in the woods or anywhere else.”
The air went cold.
Several people stopped moving. Marcus’s hands froze on the cable he was coiling. Sarah’s eyes went wide. Even Jessica looked shocked, her perpetual smirk faltering.
It was a nuclear option—a direct, public accusation barely disguised as dialogue from their play. Everyone heard it. Everyone understood it.
Elara’s smile turned brittle, cracks showing at the edges. “Mia. Sweetie. The drama stays on stage, remember?” She laughed, but it sounded forced. “We’re all friends here.”
Silas said nothing. Just stood there, watching Mia with an expression she couldn’t read. Not angry this time. Something more complex..
Finally, he shook his head with a short, humorless sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Suit yourself, Torres.” He slung his bag over his shoulder, movements sharp with irritation. “Just try to keep up. And maybe invest in better shoes. Those city-girl sneakers won’t cut it on actual trails.”
The old nickname—city girl, townie, country bumpkin, he used them all interchangeably—was familiar territory. A retreat to safe insults.
But his eyes, when they met hers one last time before he left, promised this wasn’t over. The challenge she’d thrown down—the public accusation—had changed something. Escalated something that was already dangerous.
As his footsteps faded into the hallway, Elara looped her arm through Mia’s. Her touch was warm, her grip gentle but somehow firm. “I’m so glad you’re coming,” she said, voice low. “Really. It’ll be good. For all of us.”
Mia nodded, barely hearing the words. She was watching the empty doorway where Silas had disappeared, her heart pounding with adrenaline and something that might have been fear or might have been exhilaration.
She’d just volunteered to spend a weekend in the wilderness with the people at the center of her investigation. Had publicly accused one of them of murder. Had painted a target on her own back in front of witnesses.
The smart thing would be to back out. Make an excuse. Stay safe on campus where there were cameras and crowds and resident advisors.
But she’d never been particularly smart about this. Not since the moment she’d seen Ethan’s body in that lake.
Around her, the theater was emptying. People were leaving in groups, chattering about the camping trip, about who was driving, about what food to bring. Normal college life continued like she hadn’t just accused someone of murder in their midst.
Jessica paused on her way out, leaning close enough that Mia could smell her perfume—something expensive. “Careful in those woods,” she whispered, her smile sharp. “It's easy to get lost. Easy to have… accidents.”
Then she was gone, her laughter echoing back from the hallway.