She’d known.

Not just since the wall.

Not just since Benji said her name like it tasted like blood.

She’d known since the dreams started shifting.

When she stopped running and started watching.

When the killers started standing beside her like they were waiting for her to fall in line.

She felt it in her bones, in the way her chest tightened when someone raised their voice, in how good it felt lately to imagine hurting someone when they crossed her.

She hadn’t done anything.

Not yet.

But the pull was there.

And it was growing louder.

She wanted to scream at Max for saying it. For naming the thing she wasn’t ready to.

But Max wasn’t wrong.

The curse didn’t flip a switch.

It crept in slow. Tender. Familiar.

Like a sickness that felt like strength at first.

Heather didn’t move when Alice Mae sat beside her. Didn’t lean away when their shoulders brushed, warm and grounding.

She just stared at the floor, hands clenched, teeth locked together like if she opened her mouth something terrible would crawl out.

But then Alice said it—

You’re not going to be the next killer.

Heather wanted to believe her. God, she wanted to.

But that kind of hope didn’t feel safe anymore.

The room had gone still again.

And it was her turn to speak.

So she did.

Her voice was low. Not broken. But raw.

“I’ve seen it.”

That made them look at her.

She didn’t stop.

“In my sleep. In the mirror. In the space between my thoughts. I’ve felt it building. Like something’s waiting for me to… give in.”

Her gaze swept the room, stopping briefly on Benji—his expression open, desperate, wrecked.

Then on Alice—fierce and fearless beside her.

Then Max, already calculating what came next.

Then Caleb.

And finally—Eli.

She met his eyes. The one who never trusted her. The one who might’ve been right all along.

“There’s a part of me that’s scared you’re all wasting your time,” she said quietly. “That I’m already too far gone and just don’t know it yet.”

Benji flinched. Alice opened her mouth—but Heather kept going.

“And I want to believe we’ll figure it out. That we’ll stop it. That I won’t turn into another name in the papers.”

She swallowed hard, voice trembling—but not soft.

“But if I do—if it happens—if I change before we can stop it…”

A beat.

She looked directly at Eli now.

“You’ll stop me. Right?”

Silence.

Not because they didn’t want to say yes.

But because they knew what that would mean.

Heather forced her shoulders back. Sat straighter. Stronger.

“I need to know that if it comes down to it—if I’m not me anymore—you won’t hesitate.”

Her voice cracked, but she didn’t look away.

“Not because I don’t trust myself. But because I trust you.”

A long pause.

Then, quieter:

“I’d rather die as me… than live long enough to kill any of you.”

The second Heather started talking, something cold gripped his spine.

Not because she was wrong.

But because she was right.

He’d been trying so damn hard not to admit it—not out loud, not even to himself. Telling himself she was just shaken, scared, acting weird because she had a good reason. That if they kept her close, if they stayed alert, if they figured out the rules fast enough, it wouldn’t happen.

But Heather wasn’t guessing.

She knew.

She’d felt it coming like a tide she couldn’t hold back.

And still—still—she sat there and asked them to stop her if she changed. If she lost herself. If she became one of the names they studied in horror.

Caleb’s chest burned.

Not with fear.

With fury.

Because no one should have to ask that.

Especially not her.

Heather annoyed the hell out of him most days. She was loud. Dramatic. Relentless. She poked at every nerve like it was her job and acted like rules were made to be mocked. Half the time he couldn’t tell if she was serious or just trying to get a rise out of someone.

But she’d wormed her way in.

Not just into Alice Mae’s life—into his.

Into all of theirs.

And sitting there now, pale and shaking but somehow still stronger than any of them had a right to be, she looked like a kid asking the world not to use her as a weapon.

His fists clenched.

No. No, fuck that.

He stepped forward without thinking, putting himself between her and whatever future was trying to write her out.

“Okay,” he said, voice sharp enough to cut the silence.

Everyone looked at him.

“I’m gonna say this once, so listen up.”

He looked straight at Heather, then let his eyes sweep the room.

“She’s not going anywhere.”

He pointed at Max. “You? Brain of the operation. Fine. Get to work.”

At Eli. “You see something? Say it. We need that paranoia now.”

To Benji. “Don’t let go of her hand. Not even for a second.”

Then to Alice Mae.

Their eyes met.

And everything unsaid passed between them in one breath.

She needed Heather to live.

So Caleb would make sure she did.

He turned back to Heather.

“You don’t get to die, and you don’t get to disappear, and you sure as hell don’t get to carry this on your own.”

A pause. His voice dropped lower. Rougher.

“You’re not a killer. You’re a pain in my ass.”

A flicker of a smile from her—barely there, but it was enough.

He softened, just a little.

“And you’re ours, like it or not.”

Another beat.

“So if this thing thinks it gets to take you? It’s got a whole lot of us to get through first.”

He stepped back, arms crossing tight.

Still staring at the room like daring it to disagree.

No one did.

He didn’t want to feel it.

The shift.

The pull.

The way this group—the misfits and the loudmouths and the doomed—kept doing the one thing Eli had trained himself not to expect:

They stayed.

They believed.

They fought.

Heather’s voice still echoed in his skull.

“If I’m not me anymore… you’ll stop me, right?”

He hadn’t answered. Couldn’t. Not then.

Because that kind of promise—that kind of line drawn in blood—wasn’t something you gave lightly. And Heather had asked it like she already knew he was the only one who might say yes.

Eli had always thought she was chaos wrapped in glitter. Too big. Too loud. Too dangerous.

He’d seen the signs before anyone else. Had watched the darkness circling her from the jump. And now?

Now she’d admitted it was real.

And worse—she’d asked him to be the fail-safe.

The last line.

The executioner.

His jaw was tight.

His hands, folded across his chest, curled into fists he didn’t remember making.

Then Caleb spoke.

Not with strategy. Not with analysis.

Just… heart.

Stupid, bold, gut-deep loyalty.

The kind Eli had never really trusted—but maybe kind of hated how much he wanted to.

He watched Caleb point them out one by one, calling out roles like this was some kind of ragtag battlefield.

And maybe it was.

Max with the map.

Benji with the tether.

Alice with the fire.

And Caleb—solid and steady as hell, building walls around Heather with words alone.

Eli didn’t flinch when Caleb’s eyes passed over him.

Didn’t push back.

Because for once, the spotlight didn’t bother him.

It grounded him.

He glanced back at Heather, who still looked like she was holding herself together with sheer willpower and maybe one last breath.

And Eli?

Eli found himself stepping forward.

Not far. Not dramatic.

Just enough.

Just enough so she’d see him when he spoke.

“I’ll do it,” he said flatly.

Everyone froze.

His voice didn’t waver.

“If it comes to that… if you change. If we can’t stop it.”

He met her eyes.

Held them.

“I’ll stop you.”

Silence.

But then he added, quieter, almost unwilling:

“But that’s not what’s gonna happen.”

He looked at the others, then back at her.

“Because we’re not letting it.”

And for once, Eli didn’t sound like he was trying to convince anyone else.

He sounded like he was trying to believe it, too.

He knew she needed to hear it.

Needed someone—Eli—to say it out loud.

I’ll stop you.

If it happens.

If you change.

If we lose you.

It was the only answer she’d accept. The one she’d been bracing for. The one that carved a line in the sand between who she was and what the curse wanted her to become.

But Benji?

He hated it.

Every word of it.

He felt it settling over the room like ash, thick and grim and final. Like they were already preparing to grieve her. Already making peace with the possibility that she’d be next. That she’d snap. That they’d have to end her.

And he wasn’t ready for that.

Not because he didn’t believe Eli would do it.

But because he wasn’t ready to imagine a world where Heather wasn’t Heather.

Where her laugh was gone.
Where her fire burned someone instead of keeping them warm.
Where her name was just another carved curse in a wall underground.

Benji’s hand tightened around hers.

Not protectively. Not desperately.

Just… stubbornly.

“You’re not gone.”

His voice came out hoarse.

The whole room looked at him. But he only looked at her.

“You’re not gone, Heather. And I’m not letting any of you talk about her like she already is.”

He looked around—Max, Caleb, Eli, Alice. No blame. No heat. Just truth.

“I get it. I know what she asked. I know what Eli promised. But don’t you dare start planning for her death like it’s some inevitability.”

He turned back to Heather.

His eyes were red. Not from crying. Just from holding too much inside.

“You’re here. Right now. And you’re still you. And as long as that’s true, I’m fighting for that version. Every second. Every breath.”

He shifted forward on the couch, both hands holding hers now.

“You don’t get to disappear on me.”

A whisper, so soft it might’ve broken if it weren’t so solid:

“I’m in love with you.”

Silence.

Even Heather’s breath caught.

But he didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch.

“And I’m not saying it because I think it’ll save you. I’m saying it because I should’ve said it earlier. Because I need you to know that even if we lose this—if it all goes to hell—I’m not running.”

His voice cracked just once.

“You’re not alone. You were never alone.”

He squeezed her hands.

And for the first time since this nightmare started—

he meant every word without fear.

Because whatever this curse was—

It couldn’t kill love.

Not before they let it try.

She should’ve seen it coming.

Not the curse. That had been a storm cloud she’d tracked for months.

Not Heather’s name on the wall. That had been inevitable.

But this—Benji’s voice breaking open like a dam, and the words he hadn’t said until now—

“I’m in love with you.”

Max froze.

Not because she didn’t believe him.

Because she did.

And suddenly, it all made sense.

Why Benji had been the first one down the tunnel.
Why he hadn’t slept for days.
Why he held Heather’s hand like a lifeline and not a comfort.

He wasn’t just afraid of losing her.

He was in love with her.

And now, the curse wasn’t just coming for a name.

It was coming for something Max knew how to measure.

Hope.

Connection.

Love.

That was the one thing the curse couldn’t stand—something strong enough to pull someone back from the edge. And right now, Heather Goodwin had more than a pulse.

She had a goddamn army.

Max closed her eyes for one breath. One long inhale.

Then opened them again.

“Alright,” she said, stepping forward. “We move now.”

Everyone looked up.

Benji still had Heather’s hands in his.
Alice Mae was on high alert.
Eli—watchful, nodding.
Caleb, already bracing.

Max dropped the binder on the table with a dull thud.

“The curse is grooming Heather, yes. But it’s doing it faster than before. Which means something’s changed.”

She flipped to a tab. Notes. Drawings. A timeline with names scrawled in red pen, their connections mapped like a family tree from hell.

“We need to figure out what’s feeding it.”

She tapped the paper.

“It used to take years to wear a vessel down. Now it’s moving in weeks. That means it’s stronger. Hungrier. Or scared.”

Max’s eyes locked on Heather’s.

“Which means you’re more of a threat to it than you think.”

Heather blinked, stunned.

Max didn’t smile, but her voice sharpened with fire.

“You’re not just the target. You’re the variable it can’t control.”

She looked at the group.

“We use that.”

Then—calmly, methodically—she pointed out assignments.

“Eli, you and I are going back to the tunnels tomorrow. There’s something down there we missed. Symbols. Energy. Maybe even another path.”

“Caleb, you’re with us. You keep the ladder guarded and our way out clear.”

“Alice Mae—Heather doesn’t leave your side. Not at school. Not on the street. Not even for a bathroom break.”

A pause.

“Benji, you’re the anchor. The emotional constant. The reason she remembers who the hell she is.”

Her eyes swept across them all.

“We start with the wall. Tomorrow night, we map it. Photograph it. Look for names we missed.”

Then her voice lowered. Just a hair.

“We find out who wrote them.”

A final beat.

“And we make damn sure Heather’s name is the last one the curse ever tries to carve.”

Max turned to Heather.

“You’re not the end of the story.”

A breath.

“You’re the beginning of the one where we end it.”

She didn’t cry.

Not when Heather said she’d rather die as herself.
Not when Eli promised to stop her.
Not even when Benji, sweet, reckless Benji, looked her in the eye and told her he was in love with her.

But when Max laid out the plan?

Piece by piece.

Step by step.

Tactical. Focused. Unapologetically Max.

That’s when the first real breath slipped out of Alice Mae’s lungs like she’d been holding it for weeks.

Because finally—finally—it didn’t feel like they were just surviving.

They were fighting.

Not flailing in the dark.

Not waiting for the next crack in the curse to swallow someone else whole.

They were organizing.
Plotting.
Pushing back.

And for the first time since Heather’s name showed up on that wall, Alice didn’t feel powerless.

She felt ready.

Even if it still scared her.

Even if it still made her stomach twist with dread.

Even if she knew—deep in her bones—that this wasn’t a battle they could win clean.

She still stood taller.

She still nodded when Max looked her way.

“You’ve got her,” Max said. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

Alice didn’t blink.

“I won’t.”

Because she wouldn’t.

Because if this curse thought it could take Heather from her quietly, subtly, like it had taken so many others—
it didn’t know who the hell it was dealing with.

Alice wasn’t here to cry over another body.

She was here to make sure there wasn’t one.

She looked at the people in the room—her people, somehow.

Caleb, standing like a wall she hadn’t known she could lean on until she already was.
Eli, sharp-eyed and finally in.
Benji, practically made of raw heart and reckless devotion.
Max, too smart for the universe and too stubborn to give up.
And Heather.

Her Heather.

Scared. Marked. Still fighting.

Still hers.

Alice Mae’s jaw clenched as her hand found Heather’s again, lacing their fingers tight.

“You don’t blink without me knowing.”

Heather gave her a shaky nod.

“Good.”

Then she turned to Max.

“You bring me anything you find. I don’t care how small it looks.”

She was done waiting to be told what to do.

“If we’re doing this, we do it loud.”

And if the curse didn’t want a war?

Too bad.

They were already in one.

She hadn’t meant to cry.

But Benji’s words—

I’m in love with you.

—they hit her in the softest place. The part she’d been trying to keep locked up since this whole thing started. Since the first whisper in her sleep. Since the first time she caught her reflection and thought, that’s not me anymore.

Because love didn’t get to exist in a body marked for ruin.

It wasn’t allowed. Not for her.

And yet… there he was.

Saying it anyway.

Saying it like a vow. Like a goddamn anchor.

She didn’t deserve him. She didn’t deserve any of them.

But she needed them.

Needed this—the room, the plan, the binder, the fire, the fury, the hands still holding hers.

She was still scared.

That hadn’t changed.

The curse was in her. She could feel it. Like smoke between her bones. Like something old and sharp waiting for her to crack so it could finally breathe.

She still had the dreams.

Still felt the pull.

Still heard her name whispered in the dark.

But right now?

Right now, she also felt Benji’s thumb brushing hers. Caleb standing like a wall. Alice Mae’s grip tight in hers. Max building a plan like a weapon.

And Eli—

Eli had said what no one else could.

That he’d stop her if he had to.

That he saw the truth, even if it tore him apart to speak it.

That mattered too.

All of it mattered.

She didn’t know how long she had.

Didn’t know if they’d be fast enough. Smart enough. Lucky enough.

But she knew one thing.

She wasn’t going to let the curse hollow her out in silence.

Not anymore.

When Max’s words faded and the room went still again, Heather finally sat up straighter.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It wasn’t brave.

But it was real.

Her voice didn’t shake when it came.

“I don’t want to be saved because I’m yours.”

Everyone looked at her.

She kept going.

“I want to be saved because I’m me. Because I’m still in here. Even if I can’t always feel it.”

She turned to Benji, gaze soft but searing.

“I don’t know how long I can hold it off. But I swear to God I will fight it with everything I’ve got.”

To Alice. “I won’t leave you.”

To Caleb. “You’re right—I’m a pain in the ass.”

A flicker of a grin. A breath.

Then finally, to Eli.

“And you… if it comes to it, I trust you.”

Another pause.

“But don’t let it come to that.”

She looked back at the room, voice rising just enough.

“Please don’t let it come to that.”

The fire inside her wasn’t steady.

It flickered.

It threatened to die.

But it was still burning.

And as long as it did, she wasn’t done.

Not yet.

The fire was back.

Not just in Heather—but in all of them.

Even Max, usually calm in that surgical way of hers, had heat in her voice. Alice looked like she’d take down a wall bare-handed if it meant keeping Heather breathing. Eli was quieter than ever, but present—in that razor-sharp, calculating way of his.

And Benji?

Benji was practically built of heartache and defiance now.

But Caleb didn’t move for speeches.

Didn’t need declarations or stares or soft-spoken promises.

He just needed the plan.

And Max gave him that.

“You’re with us. You keep the ladder guarded and our way out clear.”

It wasn’t glamorous.

Wasn’t the center of the fight.

But it was everything.

Caleb didn’t ask for the spotlight. Never had. But he showed up. Always.

That was his job—come through when shit hit the fan. When everyone else was cracking, or bleeding, or breaking under the weight of things too big to carry.

He’d carry it.

Quietly. Steadily. No questions.

So yeah—he’d guard the ladder.

He’d map the exits.

He’d stand at the edge while Max and Eli dove into hell, and if something tried to follow them out, he’d be the first thing it ran into.

That was enough.

More than enough.

But it didn’t mean he wasn’t watching the others.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t tracking the tremor in Alice’s jaw, or the way Heather looked a second too long at the window—as if measuring the distance between herself and freedom.

Didn’t mean he hadn’t clocked the fire in Benji’s voice or the weight behind Eli’s silence.

They were all carrying something different.

But Caleb? He carried the moment.

The now.

The part that kept them standing.

Because if Heather faltered, if the curse got bold, if anything went sideways on this next run—

he wouldn’t hesitate.

He wouldn’t freeze.

He wouldn’t fail.

Caleb’s shoulders squared as Max flipped another page in that war-binder of hers.

Whatever came next, whatever shadows they had to crawl through—

he’d be ready.

Not because he was the strongest.

Not because he was the bravest.

But because when everything else broke—

he didn’t.

He didn’t speak unless he had to.

Didn’t fill the silence just to hear himself echo.

That was for people who needed attention. Needed reassurance.

Eli didn’t.

He needed information. He needed patterns. He needed facts.

So he watched.

He always watched.

And tonight, the picture was clear.

Heather was scared.

Not pretend scared. Not theatrical, Heather-brand chaos. Real fear.

It leaked around the edges of her voice, lingered in the stiffness of her posture, hung in the way her eyes darted just slightly—like she was still scanning for exits even now.

But she was also fighting it.

Clawing back tooth by tooth.

That mattered.

Max was in general mode—organizing, sorting, assigning. Her binder looked like something between a manifesto and a map to hell. But he could see it in her hands—the slight tremor when she turned a page. She wasn’t invincible. Just hiding it better than most.

Benji was running on pure emotion. Nothing new there.

Caleb had gone full tank-mode—ready to throw down at the first sign of trouble, stoic and steady like it was coded into his DNA.

Alice Mae? A wall. But not the unfeeling kind. The kind built with grit and grief, standing tall because she knew if she cracked, someone else might fall through.

And Heather—

Heather was still sitting upright.

Still breathing.

Still here.

Which meant they still had time.

Still had a shot.

Eli leaned against the trailer wall, arms folded, mind running faster than anyone could guess. He was already replaying their last trip to the tunnels. Already mapping out what Max might’ve missed, what he might’ve misread.

There’d been something in the wall. In the air. A pressure he didn’t like.

It hadn’t just been death.

It had been design.

That was what scared him.

Not ghosts.

Not curses.

Intent.

The wall hadn’t been random.

It had been curated.

Eli’s fingers tapped once against his bicep. Thinking. Calculating.

If someone—or something—was accelerating the curse, it meant one of two things:

They were running out of time.

Or someone else was.

His eyes flicked to Heather again.

Her knuckles were white. Her jaw tight. But she was grounded now. Anchored. By them. By him, too, maybe, in the way only someone willing to do what needed doing could be.

He didn’t flinch when she said she trusted him.

He didn’t need to.

Because trust wasn’t about what you said.

It was about who stood where when shit hit the fan.

And Eli?

He’d already decided.

If this thing came for Heather, it wasn’t getting a clean shot.

Not with Max on one side.

Not with Caleb watching their backs.

Not with Alice ready to burn the world down.

And not with Eli standing in the dark with a flashlight and a plan.

He didn’t speak until the others started to move.

Then, quietly—measured—he pushed off the wall and said:

“We go in clean. We come out cleaner.”

A pause.

“And no one gets carved into that wall again.”

That was it.

But it was enough.

Because when Eli did speak?

People listened.

He didn’t realize he was crying again until he felt it hit the back of his throat.

It wasn’t loud.

Just this tight, burning pressure behind his eyes—like something breaking slow, steady, quiet.

Like something grieving.

Not for Heather.
Not yet.
Not ever, if he had anything to do with it.

But for what she had to carry.

For what they all had to carry.

Eli’s voice was still echoing in the room like a gunshot that hadn’t finished ringing.

“No one gets carved into that wall again.”

Benji clenched his jaw.

Because fuck if he’d let that happen.

Not to her.

Not to any of them.

He looked down at their hands again—his still laced with hers, like they belonged there. Like maybe if he held on tight enough, nothing could get inside.

Her skin was cold, but her grip was strong.

She was still here.

And that was the thing that mattered most.

He didn’t have plans like Max.
Didn’t have tactics like Eli.
Didn’t have strength like Caleb or fury like Alice Mae.

But he had this.

The now.

The part where you stay when someone else might run.
The part where you keep loving someone even when the world is trying to ruin them.

He leaned a little closer, voice low enough that it was only for her.

“You don’t have to be okay yet.”

A breath.

“But you’re not doing this alone. Not one step.”

Her eyes flicked to his.

So scared.

So stubborn.

So Heather.

He gave her a small, crooked smile. It didn’t hide the fear behind it, but it didn’t try to.

“I meant what I said. I’m not going anywhere.”

A pause.

“So you better not either.”

That was all.

No speech. No flourish.

Just truth.

The kind you only said when the room was cracked open wide and nobody was pretending anymore.

And maybe—just maybe—it was enough.

Because this wasn’t about saving the world.

It was about saving her.

And Benji?

He would burn everything else down to do it.