The sea surged higher, cold spray stinging my face—CRASH—as waves slammed against the rocks like they were trying to climb out of the water with us.
My legs felt rooted to the sand.
"You," I whispered again, my voice barely audible over the wind. "It was always you."
The man smiled, slow and knowing. "Careful, Caoimhe. Say things like that and people might think you're unstable."
Rage burned hot and sudden, cutting straight through the fear. "You shoved him."
Serafin shifted in front of me, feet braced against the uneven rocks. "Back away. Now."
The man didn't move. He didn't need to. He had people for that.
Flashlights flicked on behind us—click, click—their beams slicing through the thinning fog. Two figures emerged near the harbor path, blocking the only easy way out.
My chest tightened. "You planned this."
"Of course we did," the man replied calmly. "You don't think we'd let you remember without supervision, do you?"
"That's insane," I said. "You murdered someone."
His smile faltered just slightly. "No. We corrected a problem."
A bitter laugh tore out of me. "By killing him?"
"He was going to talk," the man said. "About things that would've destroyed this town."
"And you decided that was worth his life?" My hands shook. "You decided I was worth sacrificing too?"
"You ran," he said simply. "That made you useful."
Serafin's voice dropped, deadly quiet. "You framed her."
The man shrugged. "We guided the narrative."
The wind screamed again—WHOOOOOSH—as the tide crept closer, water lapping at my boots—splash, splash.
"So all those years," I said hoarsely, "you let me believe it was my fault."
"Yes," he replied. "And you lived, didn't you?"
Something in me broke.
I stepped around Serafin before he could stop me. "You don't get to decide what living means."
One of the men behind us raised his voice. "Caoimhe, stop. You're emotional."
I laughed hysterically. "No shit."
The man took a step closer, his tone softening. "Listen to me. We can still fix this."
"Fix what?" I snapped. "The fact that you're a killer? Or that I remember now?"
"That you're talking," he said. "That's the real danger."
Serafin grabbed my arm. "We're done here."
The man's eyes hardened. "No. You're not."
A sudden shout echoed from above—Hey!—followed by hurried footsteps on gravel. More voices. More movement.
"They're bringing backup," Serafin muttered.
The man sighed, almost regretful. "I was hoping you'd be reasonable."
"You shoved him," I repeated, louder now. "I saw it. You pushed Liam."
The words felt heavy, real, terrifying—and freeing.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then one of the town figures hissed, "She said his name."
The man's jaw clenched. "You shouldn't have done that."
"What?" I demanded. "Spoken?"
The flashlight beams tightened on me—click—pinning me in place.
Serafin moved instantly, pulling me back. "We're leaving. Now."
A hand grabbed my shoulder—GRIP—and I screamed, twisting free. "Don't touch me!"
The man's voice cut through the chaos. "If she keeps talking, everything unravels."
"That's not my problem anymore," I shouted.
A wave surged unexpectedly—CRASH!—soaking us all, knocking one of the men off balance with a curse.
"Fuck!" he yelled.
Serafin seized the moment. "Run!"
We bolted toward the lower harbor road, boots slipping on wet stone—scrape, thud—lungs burning, the shouts behind us growing louder.
"Stop them!"
"Don't let her get away!"
I could hear my own heartbeat pounding—thump, thump, thump—like it was counting down something inevitable.
We reached the road just as headlights flared—VROOOOM—a car screeching to a halt sideways in front of us.
Serafin swore under his breath. "Shit."
The driver's door opened slowly—creeeak—revealing another familiar face from my past. Someone who had hugged me goodbye eight years ago.
"Caoimhe," she said gently. "You're tired. You're confused."
I laughed, breathless and wild. "You all rehearsed this, didn't you?"
She frowned. "Get in the car."
"No."
Serafin stepped in front of me again. "Move the vehicle."
The woman's gaze flicked to him. "You don't understand what you're interfering with."
"Oh, I understand perfectly," he replied. "You're protecting yourselves."
More footsteps closed in behind us—crunch, crunch—surrounding us in a tightening circle of light and shadow.
"You can't leave," the man said, emerging from the darkness again. "Not with what you know."
I looked at all of them—faces I'd trusted, faces I'd missed, faces that had watched me suffer in silence.
My phone buzzed in my pocket—bzzzzt—one last message lighting the screen.
Say it out loud.
I lifted my head, voice trembling but clear. "You killed him."
Silence fell like a held breath.
And in that silence, I realized there was no turning back.