She had sworn—fiercely, absolutely, with the desperate certainty of a girl escaping a burning house—that she would never come back. Not to Wind Gap, with its syrup-thick air and gossip that spread like mold. Not to Adora, with her lace-curtained perfection and sugar-coated cruelty. But vows, like old bones, crack under pressure. And here she was—fractured, unwilling—sitting in a bar at midnight, nursing the kind of drink meant to cauterize memory.

The drive from St. Louis had peeled her open, mile by mile, until time lost shape. The Spur waited at the end like a trap she’d walked into willingly. She wasn’t ready for the house yet—the air thick with roses and rot, her mother’s voice already curling through her skull. Not without armor. Whiskey would do. The glass felt honest in her hand, cold, grounding.

Nothing here had changed. The same gouged bar top. The same neon beer signs buzzing like dying fireflies. The same smell—stale beer, bleach, regret. At fifteen, she had prowled this place, mistaking danger for power. Letting men’s hands tell her who she was supposed to be. They never did. They only left fingerprints.

She drank. The whiskey burned like penance.

And then—him.

In the far booth, half-swallowed by shadow, sat a boy trying hard to look older. Shoulders slouched, jaw tight, eyes too tired for his age. Pretty in a way that hurt to look at. She knew him—not from memory, but from case files, from photographs tacked to her editor’s wall. Natalie Keene’s stepbrother.

Her pulse stuttered. The story. The reason she’d come.

She pushed her glass aside and stood. Her boots clung to the sticky floor as she crossed the space, each step louder than it should’ve been. The jukebox hummed a low country tune, all loss and longing. She caught her reflection in the mirror behind the bar—a ghost wearing lipstick—and almost laughed.

At his table, she stopped. Tried to smile. It cracked at the edges.

“Hi,” she said quietly. “Camille Preaker.” A pause. A breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Can I buy you a drink? Ask you a few questions?”