TWENTY EIGHT

TWENTY EIGHT
We spent the next several hours working out the details. Maddie would set up her livestream equipment at different spots around the festival grounds. Jim would stay at the cabin, watching multiple feeds and ready to warn us if things went bad.

Hank would make his presence known to Vincent early in the festival, pulling attention and security downtown. Once Vincent's people were focused there, my mother and I would go to his house from the ocean side, using the cliffs and caves that Hank knew well.

"The timing has to be perfect," Hank said. "If you hit the house before I've pulled Vincent out, you'll walk into full security. If you wait too long, he might figure out it's a trick."

"How will we know when to move?" I asked.

"I'll signal you. Three red flares from the harbor. You'll be able to see them from the access road near Vincent's property."

"And if something goes wrong?"

"Then you get out. Disappear. Let Maddie publish everything we have."

It wasn't perfect. Too many things could go wrong. But it was the best we had.

"We should rest," my mother said as evening came. "Tomorrow we start looking around. The day after, final prep. Then..."

"Then we end this," I finished.

Everyone went to bed early. We needed sleep before tomorrow. But I lay in the loft for hours, staring at the ceiling. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sadie's face. The way her skin looked blue in the morning light. The terror frozen in her eyes.

I thought about Sheriff Kinney too. His "suicide note" blaming everything on us. Vincent was good at making people believe his lies.

And Vincent himself. That cold smile Maddie had described. A man who trafficked girls like they were products. Who killed anyone who got in his way.

The weight of what we were about to do felt heavy on my chest. Like I couldn't breathe properly.

Around midnight, I gave up trying to sleep. I climbed down from the loft as quietly as I could. The main room was dark except for moonlight coming through the windows.

Hank was at his usual spot by the window, gun in his lap. Always watching. Always ready.

"Can't sleep either?" I asked.

"Too much on my mind."

I walked over and stood beside him, looking out at the moonlit forest. The trees looked peaceful, like nothing bad could ever happen here.

"Are we crazy?" I asked. "Trying to take on Vincent like this?"

"Probably."

"But you're still going to help."

"Don't have much choice now, do I?"

"You always have a choice."

He turned to look at me. In the dim light, I could see the struggle on his face. "Do I? Because it feels like every choice I make just puts you in more danger."

"I was already in danger. You're giving me a chance to fight back."

"Or I'm giving you a chance to get killed."

I moved closer, close enough to feel the warmth coming off his body. "Hank, I need you to understand something. I'm doing this whether you help or not. The only question is if we do it together or separately."

"That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair. Sadie Cooper figured that out when someone killed her and threw her in the ocean."

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he set his gun down carefully on the windowsill and pulled me into his arms.

I fit against him perfectly. My head tucked right under his chin. His heart beating steady against my ear. His arms wrapped around me, warm and solid.

"I'm scared of losing you," he said softly.

"I'm scared too. But I'm more scared of living the rest of my life knowing I could have stopped this and didn't."

We stood there in the darkness, holding each other. Finding comfort in being close. In not being alone with our fear.

Outside, the forest was peaceful. The wind moved through the trees, making them whisper. An owl called somewhere in the distance. Normal sounds from a normal night.

But nothing about this felt normal.

"Two more days," I whispered.

"Two more days," he agreed.

I pulled back just enough to look up at him. The moonlight caught his face, showing the line of his jaw, the shadows under his eyes. He looked tired. 

Before I could think about it too much, I rose up on my toes and pressed my lips to his.

He froze for just a second. Then his arms tightened around me and he kissed me back.

His lips were warm and soft. The kiss started gentle, careful. Like we were both testing this out. Seeing if it felt right.

It felt more than right.

I slid my hands up to his shoulders, holding on. He made a sound low in his throat and pulled me closer. One of his hands moved up into my hair. The kiss got deeper, more urgent.

I could taste coffee on his lips. Could feel the rough stubble on his jaw against my skin. Could smell pine and soap and something that was just him.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathing hard. He rested his forehead against mine.

"I've wanted to do that since I first saw you on that beach," he said, his voice rough.

"Took you long enough."

He laughed quietly. The sound rumbled through his chest. "I didn’t want you to think of me as a psycho”

"Too late for that."

"Yeah." His thumb brushed across my cheek. "Too late for a lot of things."

I kissed him again. Slower this time. Taking my time. Memorizing the feel of his mouth on mine. The way his hands moved on my back like he couldn't get enough of touching me.

This kiss was different. Deeper. Like we were both pouring everything we couldn't say into it. 

When we broke apart this time, his eyes were dark. Intense.

"Promise me something," he said.

"What?"

"Promise me that if things go bad tomorrow, if you have to choose between the mission and staying alive, you'll choose yourself."

"Hank—"

"Promise me, Elise. I need to know that even if I can't be there to protect you, you'll do whatever it takes to survive."

I wanted to argue. To tell him the mission mattered more. But the look in his eyes stopped me.

"I promise," I said. "If you promise the same thing."

"Deal."

He kissed me again, soft and sweet. Then he pulled me back into his arms and just held me. My head on his chest, his chin resting on top of my head.

We stood like that for a long time. Neither of us talking. Just being close. Finding strength in each other for what was coming.

"We should try to sleep," he said finally. "Big day tomorrow."

"I know. I just... I don't want to let go yet."

His arms tightened around me. "Then don't. Not yet."

So we didn't. We stood there in the moonlight, wrapped in each other's arms, stealing a few more moments of peace before the storm.