She hesitates for half a second, then turns and runs. Her bare feet slap against the floor as she disappears into the hallway.
A moment later Beau’s voice comes through my earpiece.
“Any other girls?”
The girl answers him somewhere below us. Her voice trembles through the connection.
“It was just three of us they brought in here.”
Beau responds immediately. “Go to the boat.”
Her footsteps move quickly down the stairs, then fade toward the dock and the open water.
“Beau.”
“Yeah?”
“After you get them on the boat, grab the spare fuel.”
A brief pause follows.
“How much?”
My eyes stay on the hall.
“As much as you’ve got,” I respond. “We’re burning all this shit down.”
“Copy that,” Beau replies. “I’ll bring them up.”
The house goes quiet again.
I scan the door and hear movement somewhere down the hall. A cabinet door opens. Glass shifts against glass. Someone moves around with the casual pace of a man preparing for a celebration.
I remain in the center of the room.
The bodies lie across the tile where they fell. Their masks have slipped out of place, jaws tilted sideways and ears pressed against the floor. Blood spreads slowly beneath them.
Then footsteps return in the hallway.
John walks into the room carrying a bottle and glasses as if he is entering a private dinner. He steps through the doorway mid-thought, the bottle balanced casually in his hand.
Then he sees the room.
He stops, lowering the bottle slowly. John turns his head, taking in the scene piece by piece. Then his gaze settles on me.
I stand in the center of the room with my pistol lowered but ready, my knife still wet in my other hand.
Brooke steps in behind him. She closes the distance without rushing, gun aimed at the back of his head. Her voice is low and calm.
“Hello John.”
John doesn’t move at first.
He exhales once, and the goat mask tilts toward me like he’s trying to make sense of the impossible.
“So,” John sighs, “you found me.”
Brooke shifts her aim a fraction closer. “Yeah, I told you I would.”
