Chapter 101: Homecoming

"He came back."

Beck's truck pulled into the parking lot at 2 AM. I was waiting on the steps, wrapped in his hoodie, the one he'd left behind like a promise. He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, just looking at me through the windshield. Then he was out, crossing the distance in three long strides, pulling me into his arms so tight I couldn't breathe.

His face was buried in my hair, his hands fisting the fabric of my hoodie. "I'm here."

"You drove three hours."

"I'd drive across the country."

He kissed me, hard and desperate, his hands framing my face like he was afraid I'd disappear. "I'm not letting her do this to us."

"Beck—"

"I don't care about camp. I don't care about the draft. I care about you."

I pulled him inside. The apartment was dark, the only light from the streetlamp filtering through the blinds. He didn't let go of me. He kicked the door shut and pressed me against it, his forehead against mine.

"I should never have left."

"You had to."

"No, I didn't."

We stood there, breathing each other in. The silence stretched, heavy and fragile. Finally, I took his hand and led him to the couch.

We sat on the couch, his arm wrapped around me, my head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady, grounding, a rhythm I'd memorized.

"Tell me everything," he said.

I told him about the package, the photo, the broken window latch. About Vanessa's call, her words dripping with false sympathy. About the feeling of being watched even when I was alone. I told him about the nights I'd lain awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if she was in the room with me.

"She's been in my room," I finished. "She's been close enough to touch me."

Beck's jaw tightened. "You should have called me sooner."

"You were at camp."

"I don't care. You call me. Always." He pulled out his phone and texted Elena. "She's sending a team to sweep the apartment. They'll check for cameras, listening devices, anything."

"Vanessa is smart. She won't leave evidence."

"Everyone makes mistakes."

The next morning, the sweep team found nothing. No cameras, no bugs, no signs of forced entry. Elena arrived with a bag of bagels and a grim expression.

"Vanessa is covering her tracks."

"Or she's already gone," I said.

"She's not gone. She's waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"For you to slip up."

I set down my bagel. "She's going to destroy everything. My book tour. Beck's career. Our relationship."

"No, she's not." Elena leaned forward. "She wants you scared. She's been stalking you for weeks, trying to break you. Don't let her."

"Easy for you to say."

"It's not easy. It's necessary." Elena's voice softened. "Ivy, you've survived worse than this. You survived your mother. You survived Victoria. You survived everyone who tried to tear you down. Vanessa is no different."

"She's different. She knows how to get inside my head."

"Then don't let her."

Elena's phone buzzed. She glanced at it, her face shifting.

"What is it?"

"Vanessa's location just pinged. She's still in the city."

"Where?"

Elena turned the screen toward us. A map. A red dot. The old rink.

"She's been hiding there."

Beck grabbed his jacket. "Let's go."

The rink was dark, the ice long gone. We walked through the tunnel, our footsteps echoing like ghosts. The air smelled like rust and memory, like the ghosts of every game we'd ever watched, every moment we'd ever shared.

Vanessa was sitting on the bench where Beck used to tie his skates. She looked up when we approached, not surprised, almost bored.

"You found me."

"We always find you," Beck said.

"I was counting on it." She stood up. "I'm not here to fight. I'm here to make a deal."

"I'm not making deals with you."

"Then you'll lose everything." She pulled out her phone. "I have photos of your mother meeting with Victoria. I have evidence that Margaret was running the network the whole time. I have enough to bring down your entire family."

"My family is already in ruins."

"Then I'll destroy what's left."

I stepped forward. "What do you want?"

"I want out. I want a new identity, a new life, a clean slate. In exchange, I give you everything."

"Everything?"

"Every photo, every recording, every document I've collected over the years." She held up her phone. "Including the ones that prove Margaret's involvement. The ones that will clear your mother's name."

"You're lying."

"Am I?" She smiled. "Check your email."

I pulled out my phone. One new message. A video.

I opened it.

Margaret's voice, cold and clear: "I did what I had to do. Your mother was a loose end. So I cut her off. I framed her, and I watched her fall. And I'd do it again."

The video ended.

I looked up. "This is real."

"As real as it gets."

Beck stepped in front of me. "What's stopping us from taking your phone and walking away?"

"The fact that I have backups. Hundreds of them. You take this phone, and the truth dies with me."

We stood in the dark rink, the weight of her words pressing down. Beck's hand found mine, his fingers lacing through mine, grounding me.

"What do you want?" I asked again.

"I want to disappear. I want a new name, a new city, a new life. And I want you to make it happen."

"I can't just—"

"Yes, you can. You have connections. Elena. The federal prosecutor. You can make this happen." Her voice cracked. "I've been running for years. I'm tired. I want to stop."

"I'm not a miracle worker."

"Then don't." She tossed the phone to me. "Everything is on there. Photos, recordings, documents. Use it wisely."

She walked toward the exit, then paused. "I'm sorry, Ivy. For everything."

She disappeared into the tunnel.

Beck pulled me close. "It's over."

"Is it?"

The phone was heavy in my hand. The truth was heavy in my chest.

Outside, the sun was rising.

But the dark was still there.

And I knew, deep down, that Vanessa wasn't the only one who wanted to disappear.

I looked at Beck. His eyes were tired, but they were steady.

"Let's go home."

"Together."

"Together."

We walked out of the rink. The sun was warm on my face.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere out there, another threat was waiting.

The following morning...

I stared at the phone Vanessa had given me. A single text from an unknown number.

"You think this is over. It's not. I know everything about you, Ivy. And I'll be watching."

A new beginning.

Or a new nightmare.

And I had no idea which one it would be.