The text came just after sunset.

“Found something. Come alone. Don’t tell anyone—not even John B. Old marina, 11PM. –S”

You were all crashing at the Chateau—John B, JJ, Pope, Sarah. She’d gone to the bathroom when the message came through. You thought it was her. You didn’t even question it.

You just slipped away.

The marina was quiet. The boat rocked gently in the dark.

“Sarah?” you called.

Rafe stepped out instead, holding up Sarah’s phone like a trophy.

Your stomach dropped. “How did you—”

“She left it out. I borrowed it,” he said, voice flat. “Figured I’d handle things myself.”

“You’re sick.”

He took a step closer. “You all think this gold is a game. John B starts flapping his mouth and suddenly every Pogue wants a piece.”

“We’re not trying to steal anything—”

“But you’re searching. And that’s enough.”

You turned to run—but it was too late.

He shoved you.

You tumbled backward—straight into a tank of cold water built into the back of the boat. The lid slammed shut.

Panic. Darkness. Water rising fast. Your screams drowned beneath the surface.

Then—light. The lid flung open.

Rafe yanked you out, soaked and gasping.

“You don’t belong in this story,” he muttered. “You’re just a distraction.”

You collapsed on the floor of the boat, coughing, heart racing. Every nerve in your body screaming.

Later, you stumbled back to the Chateau—shaking, drenched.

Sarah looked up from the couch, confused. “Where were you?”

You stared at her. At her phone in Rafe’s hand. “You didn’t send that text.”

“What text?”

JJ was already on his feet.

“I think Rafe just tried to kill me,” you whispered.

The room fell silent.

Because this wasn’t about gold anymore.

This was personal.

And Rafe was just getting started.