Author's Note—Thank you so much for the response to the last chapter. If I missed responding to anyone's review, I apologize! I'm so happy that people stuck by this story during my hiatus and so many new readers have discovered it. I really enjoy reading people's thoughts on things. Angsty Everlark is not fun to write, but it is fun laying the path to get them back to each other. And killing (fictional) people is kinda fun too!

El, thanks, as always, for reading and advising and re-directing me when it's been needed. You are the best.

All mistakes are mine. THG belongs to Suzanne Collins.

Chapter 5

"…And I deserve better than that, you know? Cheating is a deal breaker."

Katniss sighs and takes a small sip of her mimosa, only half listening to Glimmer's rant about her ex.

She had managed to survive the rest of last evening without another incident. She had stayed close to Prim and Rory and avoided sneaking too many glances in Peeta's direction. And she had managed to call it a night before Peeta and Delly did. She knew she wouldn't have been able to bear watching them leave together, knowing where they were going and what they'd likely be doing once they got to their room.

Her sleep hadn't been as sound as she would have liked, and she definitely could have done without the dream she had had about Peeta, thank you very much subconscious mind. At least it had been cognizant enough of how present-day Peeta feels about her to conjure up a fantasy from their high school days. Back when Peeta had looked at her with nothing but love in those big blue eyes.

She needed to get her mind—conscious and unconscious—off Peeta Mellark.

It wasn't going to be an easy task. She had made a promise to Gale, and that meant attending every ridiculous group activity on the weekend's jam-packed agenda. Breakfasts and brunches. The cocktail pool party. The rehearsal dinner. The beach bonfire. And as Delly's boyfriend, Peeta would likely be at most of them. No wonder he hadn't responded with a plus-one on his invitation. Fucking Gale. He had known—and deliberately omitted that detail. That alone should be enough to warrant breaking her promise to him.

At least she'd have a reprieve at the final dress fitting. And the spa. But everything else is co-ed. Madge and Gale had already had their respective bachelor and bachelorette parties, two weeks ago. Katniss had managed to avoid those.

This was one weekend. 72 hours. And no matter how much it hurt, she'd get through it, and then she'd go back to Rocky Mount, alone, and live her life. Peeta would live his. Without her.

When she had made her way down to the continental breakfast Madge had arranged on the main terrace, it had seemed a safe enough bet to indulge Madge's sorority sister, Glimmer, when Katniss had nearly collided with her en route to the bar for mimosas.

She'd had very limited interaction with the willowy blonde prior to this weekend—one dress fitting at the exclusive salon Madge had chosen on the mainland—but it had been enough to know Glimmer was a bit of a narcissist and a lot of a drama queen. And so it had been deliberate that Katniss had attempted to engage Glimmer in what she had hoped would be idle chit-chat. She had banked on Glimmer dominating the conversation and in no way direct an inquiry back at Katniss.

Unfortunately, she had been correct, and now, twenty minutes later, she's still listening to Glimmer vent about her ex, Cato.

"What I really need to do is move on from him, once and for all, you know?"

"Ah, sure, yeah." Katniss feigns a sympathetic smile. "Moving on is always good."

She's the last person who should be giving advice about moving on, but it's not like Glimmer truly cares what she thinks.

Glimmer takes a healthy gulp of her mimosa and her eyes drift past Katniss. Her glossed lips curve into a coy smile. "I know who I'd like to move on with." She lifts her champagne glass and gestures for Katniss's benefit.

Katniss twists and glances in the direction Glimmer is motioning towards. Her gaze hones right in on Peeta, at Delly's side. They're standing with another one of Madge's sorority sisters, Annie, her fiancé Finnick, and another one of Madge's sorority sisters—she thinks her name is Clove, but there are honestly too many of them to keep track—and the girl's boyfriend.

"Who, Finnick? I don't think Annie would appreciate that too much," Katniss jokes. Glimmer takes another sip of her drink and tosses her blonde curls.

"No. Unlike some people, I'm not a cheater. I mean Peeta. Do you know him?"

The question catches Katniss completely off-guard. Shit. So much for that.

"Uh, yeah. I mean…I…we went to high school together," she stammers. Does she know him? Is Glimmer serious? Katniss thought for sure the entire bridal party knew her tragic past and her damaged relationship with Peeta. But, she supposes, it's possible Glimmer is that self-involved that she would have no idea.

"He's so hot. And he's nice. The really hot ones are never nice. He's like a fucking unicorn."

"He is. Really, really nice. I mean. Peeta is a great guy," Katniss echoes, letting her gaze drift back towards Peeta's direction. At least, he's nice when he's not harboring six years of hurt and resentment and festering hatred towards you, she thinks.

Glimmer's lip curls into a pout. ""Such a shame he's taken too. I don't know how she managed to land him!" She gestures towards Peeta and company with what's left of her mimosa.

Katniss sighs. Persistence. That's how Delly got Peeta. Persistence, and preying on his vulnerable, shattered heart. A heart she's not even handling with care.

"Delly's nice too," she echoes Gale's assessment from earlier. Glimmer won't care that it's a total lie.

"Nice, sure," Glimmer sneers. "But so homely. And she needs to lose ten or twenty pounds. Peeta could do so much better." She smiles wickedly. "His skills are probably wasted on her."

"Skills?" Katniss blinks.

Glimmer downs the dregs of her drink and licks her lips. "There's no way in hell that man isn't incredibly good in bed."

Katniss's skin prickles and her body suffuses with heat. She can't very well affirm Glimmer's inference. Not that Katniss has anything to compare him to—Peeta is the only guy she's ever been with. But yeah, he was very, very good in bed.

One of the things about Peeta that Katniss had simultaneously admired and been annoyed by was how good Peeta was at everything he did. Most things came naturally to him—wrestling, painting, algebra—but the things that didn't never bothered him. He was always determined to improve, to get better at those things. That had included intimacy.

They had both been inexperienced when they started dating. Katniss had suspected Peeta had kissed a few girls before her, since he went to way more parties in middle school than she ever did, but he insisted, moments before he first covered her lips with his own, that he hadn't. That he had been waiting for her…

"What did you think?" Peeta asked as he turned the television back to the satellite.

Katniss shrugged. "It was okay, I guess. Kind of stupid, but I guess that's the genre, right?"

"Horror movies aren't stupid," Peeta insisted.

"No, but that one was." Katniss unfurled herself and swung her legs to the floor, and shifted a few inches closer to where Peeta was on the opposite end of the couch. "C'mon, Peeta. There's no way that girl was ever an outcast. It was a convoluted premise from the very beginning."

Peeta snorted. "I knew you weren't paying attention. They explained that. She had, uh, matured over the summer. The guys only started including her once she got hot."

"You mean once she got boobs." She nudged his calf with her toes. "You're so transparent, Peeta. Was that why you wanted to watch this stupid movie tonight? Do you think that actress is hot?"

Even as she needled her best friend, she felt a weird tightening in her stomach. It wasn't quite the same feeling she got before a biology test, but it was close. She hated to admit it, but thinking about Peeta ogling tall, skinny blonde girls with big tits made her feel sick. They were the exact opposite of her. Sure, she was skinny, and she had accepted she was never going to be tall and she liked her dark hair enough to never consider dyeing it. But lately she was struggling to come to terms with the fact her boobs were likely never going to arrive and she'd have to accept being a very small B-cup (and that was being generous).

And even if this girl was an actress, there was no lack of girls closer to home that fit the mold. Like Cashmere Moore and her little cheerleader minions. Every week at school it seemed their tops got tighter and their skirts got shorter. And Katniss had seen them eyeing Peeta from the sidelines at football games. They even showed up to some of his wrestling matches.

"She's pretty, yeah," Peeta agreed. He shifted his own position and was suddenly right next to her, their knees bumping as he got settled. "But she's nowhere near as pretty as you are."

"Oh my god, you are so full—" But the rest of her sentence got lost when her breath hitched. Her already knotted stomach clenched tighter as Peeta trailed one finger up her bare thigh, pausing when it reached the hem of her shorts. He then dragged it back down towards her knee. Goosebumps erupted all over her skin. She swallowed against the heat in her throat and stuttered, "Wh-what are you doing?"

Peeta's blue eyes seemed even bluer as he locked them on hers. He laughed, but it wasn't the laugh Katniss was used to. There was a tremor in this one. She had heard it. A nervous laugh. She had never known Peeta to be nervous. She didn't know he could get nervous.

But then his tone got serious as he murmured, "Something I think about doing every time I'm near you."

She glanced down at his finger where it continued its path along her feverish skin. How was it possible to feel chilled and overheated at the same time? When she looked up again, the expression on Peeta's face stole what little breath was left in her lungs.

"Peeta…" she whispered, but that was all she could manage. Her thoughts were ricocheting around in her head like that wind tunnel booth with the swirling prize tickets at the county fair. She couldn't grasp a single one to put into words.

"Katniss," he whispered back. His other hand gently grasped the end of her braid, and he lightly rubbed his fingers against the frayed strands. His lips twitched and his gaze flitted briefly to her mouth. Her stomach bottomed out. Her heart thumped madly.

"I've never kissed anyone," she blurted out. Peeta's hand released her braid and reached for her. He used both her palms to envelop his, his other hand still traversing her thigh, unwilling to cease its ministrations.

"Neither have I," he confessed. Her eyes narrowed in disbelief, which Peeta did not miss, because he hastily added, "I've had chances, yeah. But I haven't done it. Kissed anyone else. I've never wanted to kiss anyone but you, Katniss. Only you. I've been waiting for you. For this." He leaned in and her eyes instinctively fluttered shut. She felt the warm, gentle pressure of Peeta's mouth on hers, and then it was gone. She opened her eyes and found Peeta staring at her reverently.

"Was that okay?"

She couldn't ever remember hearing that edge to his voice, that uncertainty. Peeta was never anything but confident. She nodded mutely, her lips tingling like they'd been painted with peppermint.

"Can I do it again?" he asked, the indecision gone now, replaced by an almost growl. She had never heard his voice like that either.

"Yes. I mean, no. Wait. Shouldn't we talk about this?"

"What's there to talk about?"

She pulled her hands away and gestured between them. "This. Us. You're my best friend, Peeta."

"Yeah, so?"

"You don't think this is going to change things?"

"No," he replied. "I know it's going to change things. But only in good ways," he began softly, his palm cupping her cheek, his thumb grazing her jaw. "All the best relationships start as friendships. Our friendship won't change. Not at all. We will only be adding things to it. Like kissing. And, ah, other stuff—when you're ready."

Katniss closed her eyes to absorb his words. She would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about Peeta in that way. As more than a friend. She just never thought he'd look at her in the same way. He could have any girl he wanted at Panem High. Probably at the high school on the mainland, too.

But could she—could they—do this? Cross that line?

A light caress of his thumb along her cheekbone."Katniss?" Her eyes flew open. Peeta smiled at her. "Where'd you go?

"Just thinking," she replied.

"Don't think," he chided. "Just say yes. Yes." He closed the scant distance between them and pecked her lips lightly. "Yes." Another peck. "Yes."

She shoved at his chest playfully. "Why are you so damn persuasive?"

His hand finally left her thigh and trapped her palm against his chest. She felt the solid wall of muscle and the frenetic pounding of his heart, and her stomach twisted all over again.

"Because, Katniss, I've wanted you since I could finally put a name to what I feel for you. I don't remember a time I haven't been in love with you."

Then he had reiterated that there had been no one before her. That there would never be anyone else. That she was going to be all of his firsts. And all of his lasts. And since Peeta was so damn honest, she knew it wasn't a lie. He had kissed her again, and she had kissed him back, and they had made out on the couch for the rest of the night, until his parents had gotten home from their dinner with friends on the mainland.

And Peeta had been right. What they had had been so much better than just friendship, right up until she destroyed it all. She was the reason someone else was going to be all of Peeta's lasts. That was her fault, not his. Peeta had never lied to her.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Katniss meets Glimmer's irritated expression and she smiles sheepishly. "Sorry. Got a little lost in thought there."

Glimmer's blue eyes gleam. "Thinking about what I said, right? How good sex with Peeta Mellark must be."

Katniss feels the flush creeping across her cheeks and prays Glimmer is too oblivious to notice. She can't let herself think about just how good the sex had been with Peeta. It's bad enough her dreams seem content to torment her with what she'll never have again.

"He was always very attentive to detail," she says. When Glimmer wrinkles her nose at Katniss, she adds, "We worked on a history project together once, so—"

"Hello, what do we have here?"

Katniss glances across the terrace and sees Dillon Mellark striding towards Peeta and company.

"That's Peeta's brother," she explains. "Dillon."

"There's two of them?" Glimmer is now practically salivating.

"Three. Peeta's the youngest."

"Fuck. Me." Glimmer breathes out. "What's this one's story?"

"Ah, I don't really know. He was ahead of me in school. He's a cop."

"Ooh, a cop, really? I'd let him use his handcuffs on me."

Katniss rolls her eyes, and suddenly she's not sure it wouldn't be worse to be talking about her past with Peeta than listening to Glimmer for another five seconds.

"Look who finally decided to show his ugly mug around here!" Finnick crows, smacking Dillon on the shoulder. "Long time no see!"

"Yeah, sorry about last night, guys. Hi, Ann." Dillon leans down and kisses Annie on the cheek. "Delly. Peet." Peeta holds up his hand and accepts Dillon's fist bump, and then introduces his brother to Clove, another one of Madge's sorority sisters, and her boyfriend, Gloss.

Peeta doesn't care for many of Madge's friends, but he adored Annie from the first day Madge had introduced them.

He had withdrawn his acceptance and partial football scholarship a few days after Katniss had left. It had been stupid to think if he stayed closer to home, she'd come to her senses and come back, but there was no chance he was going to Tennessee either way. He worked at his parents' deli and took a few classes at the community college in the fall, clinging to the hope Katniss would reappear.

She hadn't. Not a word from her. So he re-applied to UNC and headed there for the spring semester. He was still nursing his wounds from his breakup with Katniss almost six months later when he arrived at UNC, where Madge was already settled. He was fortunate to have a friend to ease him into the social scene, since he had missed the usual freshmen orientation and mixers and whatnot back in the fall. By his introduction to Annie Cresta, he had also met her then-boyfriend Finnick Odair, who finagled Peeta a rush to his own fraternity and quickly became one of his best friends.

His friends had been the only thing keeping him from rock bottom in those first days and months without Katniss. It certainly hadn't been his family, who reveled in trashing Katniss any chance they got. He hadn't needed to hear how awful she was. How his mother had never liked her. How she was trash, just like her mother. Those words were hollow. He had needed support. His new friends, none of whom (other than Madge) knew Katniss, had given him that.

"So, what happened to Cray? He okay?" Peeta asks, quickly filling in the rest of the group on the emergency call Dillon had gotten yesterday.

Dillon cranes his neck in the direction of the terrace bar and then shakes his head solemnly. "No. By the time the paramedics got there and extricated him from his vehicle, he was already gone."

"He drowned?" Annie shudders. "Ugh, that's like my worst fear!"

"We won't know til the autopsy comes back, but it's probable from the gash on his forehead that he was unconscious when he went into the sound. Wouldn't have had a chance to save himself if that's the case," Dillon continues.

"Not to sound heartless, because I know he had kids and all, but doesn't this open up his sergeant position?" Delly pipes up. Peeta levels her with a look, but Delly seems unfazed by it as she tosses her hair. "What? I'm trying to see the silver lining here. And I know you're not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but no one liked that guy. He was a total skeeve."

Peeta isn't entirely surprised to see his brother's mouth lift in a thoughtful smirk. "I actually hadn't thought about it, but yeah, I guess Abernathy will be looking for a new sergeant." Dillon elbows Peeta and jerks his chin towards the terrace bar. "Who's the smoke show standing next to that heartless bitch you used to date?"

Peeta had not missed Katniss's arrival at breakfast a little while ago. He had watched her descend the staircase and tried not to think about how effortlessly beautiful she looked at eight o'clock in the morning and how her coral-hued sundress accented her tanned skin. But the tiny spaghetti straps holding up the dress had vaulted his mind to all the times he had tugged down straps just like that on the tank tops Katniss used to wear, and he had to look away before other parts of his body remembered as well. He had made a mental note of where she wound up on the patio and made sure to avoid even the quickest glimpse in her direction.

He ignores his brother's insult and glances over to where he knows Katniss stands. Their gazes collide, and she immediately drops her eyes to her champagne glass.

He's mildly surprised to find that she's socializing with Glimmer, one of Madge's sorority sisters who he doesn't care for. She's the exact opposite of Katniss—at least, the Katniss of six years ago. He can only imagine the conversation she's had to endure.

The blonde watches him like a lioness eyeing her prey. He's not oblivious to Glimmer's attention. She's eyed him up at any social situation they've both been at over the years. Fortunately, she's usually had that on-again, off-again boyfriend Cato to contend with, sparing Peeta any serious interest from her.

"Another sorority sister. Glimmer," he adds.

"Ooh! You and Glimmer would be a perfect fit!" Clove coos. "She needs a good man with a real job. Her ex is a complete psychopath."

"A psychopath, huh?" Dillon grins. "Well, I can definitely do one better than that. I think I need a drink. If you'll all excuse me." He winks and saunters off in Glimmer's—and Katniss's—direction.

Good, Peeta thinks. Better his brother than him. He steals one more glance at Katniss. She looks lost in thought and he seriously doubts it's because she's contemplating anything Glimmer could be saying.

What could she be thinking about?

Peeta's conversation with Gale had niggled at him for the remainder of last evening. He couldn't stop thinking about Gale's insistence that Katniss had tried to contact him. That she had sent him emails and mailed him letters. Gale Hawthorne was a lot of things, but he wasn't a liar. He had to have been telling the truth. So what had happened to these emails and letters Peeta had never received? He had been so preoccupied with this revelation that he hadn't done a very good job keeping his eyes from cutting to Katniss for the rest of the night, until he had watched her slip out of the ballroom a little before eleven. His less-than-subtle glances had not gone unnoticed; they had unleashed an angry tirade from Delly when they eventually went back to their room. She had stormed off in a huff, but not before accusing him of putting his present—her—behind his past. Meaning Katniss.

In truth, their fight was a bit of a relief, because by the time Delly returned to the room and slipped into the bed next to him, he had feigned being soundly asleep. Delly had tried to rouse him, but she had given up fairly quickly when he didn't respond to her hand cupping his cock.

To add insult to injury, when he finally did doze off he had dreamed about Katniss.

It had been vivid. Alarmingly so. Every labored breath. Every whimper. Every moan of his name tumbling from her lips. He had woken, rock hard and panting, and had immediately gone into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and to calm down. A cold shower at 4 in the morning was out of the question, and it felt incredibly wrong to jerk off to a sex dream about his ex-girlfriend while his current girlfriend slept twenty feet away. He had waited it out in the bathroom, until both his hard-on and his guilt deflated.

He has to find a way to get Katniss alone, to confront her about what Gale revealed to him last night. He needs answers. They both deserve them.

A bloodcurdling scream cuts through the humid summer air. The hum of conversation on the terrace stops instantly, replaced by curious murmurs. Everyone turns in the direction from which the scream came. A moment later a groundskeeper stumbles around the west side of the inn and falls to his knees in the grass. Peeta can hear him retching.

Dillon, though off-duty, snaps into cop-mode. He detours and approaches the groundskeeper. Before he can reach him, the man straightens up and gesticulates wildly behind him.

"There's a body. Back there. In the bushes."

A cacophony of noise erupts. Amidst the audible gasps indistinct voices call out.

"A body?"

"Whose body?"

"Oh my god, that's awful!"

"Someone died? Here?"

"Everyone remain calm!" Dillon's voice rises above the din. "And stay where you are. Nobody should move from this terrace until we secure the scene." He pulls out his cell phone, and Peeta has to assume he's calling Sheriff Abernathy.

He's vaguely aware of Delly babbling to the others around them, speculating on what could have happened and who could be dead and how upset Madge is going to be to have this happening on her wedding weekend. But he only catches threads of conversation here and there. His attention lasers on Katniss. She's now alone; Glimmer, he realizes, at some point joined his group, and she's now gossiping with Delly and Clove and Annie.

Even from across the terrace he can see the ashen tint to Katniss's complexion. Her hands are both clutching the slender stem of the champagne glass, as if the delicate crystal is somehow anchoring her.

He doesn't have to wonder what she's thinking at this moment. He knows she's thinking about her mother.

He's not surprised when Katniss rushes across the terrace and sprints up the staircase, in spite of Dillon's warning.

He's also not surprised when his immediate instinct is to go after her, to offer her comfort. A shoulder to cry on. Arms to seek solace in. Just like he did six years ago.

But it's not six years ago—even if Peeta has an unsettled feeling that there's more going on here than a car accident in the sound and a body in the bushes. It can't be a coincidence that the moment Katniss Everdeen set foot back on Panem Island, she brought all the ghosts of that awful night with her.

Haymitch reaches for his coffee mug and curses when he discovers it empty. He's running on nothing but fumes, thanks to the events of the past twenty-four hours. He pushes back from his desk, walks out of his office, and heads for the break room. He curses again when he finds the coffeepot empty. He doesn't have time for this shit. They need to invest in a fucking Keurig. Not that they have the budget for even the cheapest one.

What he really wants is a shot of Jameson. Days like today are the hardest on his sobriety. He's determined not to fall off the wagon this time.

Course, he's said that the last four times.

He glances over at Cray's empty desk.

In truth, Haymitch had never cared for Joel Cray. The guy was a dick from the minute he joined the force. Back then, when Jack Everdeen was the sheriff, Haymitch never thought Cray showed Jack the respect he deserved. It might have stemmed from the fact Cray had been eight years Jack's senior, having become a cop after two failed stints in the minors that never saw him called up to the big leagues.

He also knew Cray walked a very fine line in abusing his authority. But the man wasn't stupid. He never did anything that could have him written up or put on any kind of probation. If there had been even the slightest documented violation, Haymitch would have gladly put his ass on probation pending a disciplinary hearing.

But still, he was a co-worker, and his ex-wife and kids were nice enough, and now those kids were fatherless. Haymitch knows that feeling all too well.

"Sheriff." He turns towards his secretary's desk. "There's a call for you on Line 2. Panem County police chief."

He heads back into his office and settles into his chair. "Abernathy," he growls into the receiver after pushing the blinking "Line 2" button.

"Hey, Sheriff," Panem County's chief of police, an abrasive woman by the name of Alma Coin, greets him. "First off, my condolences about Joel Cray. What a tragedy."

Word travels fast, apparently. Even to the mainland.

"He'll be missed," is the only reply Haymitch can concoct. It's not entirely the truth, but it's always a pain in the ass to have to hire new officers.

"Well, the reason I'm calling is I thought you might want an addendum to that file I faxed over to you the other day. We got an ID on that body from the yacht and completed her autopsy. Toxicology results will be a few more weeks. She was one of your locals. Cressida Andretti. Graduated Panem High ten years ago. Her parents still live on the island, but she's lived in South Carolina since she graduated Clemson. Been working as a hostess at some ritzy club in Myrtle Beach. Beautiful girl."

"Or she was, before her face was flayed to ribbons by a boat propeller." He grimaces. "Any leads?"

"We still have a few persons of interest to interview, but it seems she wasn't due to be on the island this weekend. Her parents confirmed she wasn't scheduled to attend the Undersee wedding. They didn't know of any connection between Cressida and Richard's daughter or her fiancé."

"I'll ask Officer Mellark if he knew her. I think he would have graduated around that time." Haymitch does the math in his head. He's fairly confident Dillon is three or four years older than his younger brother, and he knows Peeta graduated with Katniss Everdeen six years ago. Right before her mother's murder.

"We'll handle the investigation, Sheriff," Coin says curtly. "I just thought I'd give you the courtesy of the name and the information. Enjoy the wedding."

"Bitch," Haymitch mutters as he replaces the receiver. He digs his thumbs into his temple and then carefully begins to type Cressida Andretti, Panem into Google.

Before he can hit "search," his cell phone vibrates. He snatches it from the holster on his waist and peers at the screen. Mellark, Dillon.

Two minutes later, he's en route to the Panem Inn.

Katniss realizes when she reaches her room that she's still holding her empty champagne glass. She'll just have to leave it on the bedside table and hope housekeeping notices it later. There's no way she's going back down to the terrace—not at this moment. She can't be down there.

She had heard Peeta's brother utter those three words—"secure the scene"—and instantly she was sixteen again, standing in her kitchen, her mother's body at her feet. The cops—her father's colleagues—who had arrived had used the exact same words.

She knows it's possible the body isn't the result of foul play; there could be a logical, albeit tragic explanation for it. Like a fall from one of the inn's third-story room balconies, or worse, a jump.

The uneasy sensation gnawing at the pit of her stomach and crawling all over her skin says otherwise.

She tucks the glass under her arm while she fumbles with her electronic room key. Her hands are clammy and it takes her several tries to get the panel to flash green. As she crosses the threshold, her right sandal slides on something, and she stumbles slightly. Frowning, she glances down to the carpet. A slip of paper is trapped beneath her foot. She bends down to retrieve it. Red ink bleeds through the page, but she has to turn the paper over to read what's scrawled across the otherwise pristine white sheet:

Time to finish what I started…

This is a shorter chapter than usual, though this story does have shorter chapters than my other fics. But Chapter 6 will not be far behind. Thank you for reading. XOXO ~C