JOHN B

As we sped away from that cursed place, my mind raced as fast as the Twinkie's engine. The letter in my bag felt like it weighed a ton, its presence a constant reminder of the danger we were in. My dad's words echoed in my head—words that had been meant to protect me, but now felt like a noose tightening around our necks.

"They know who we are. And they're coming for us."

Those words were burned into my brain, repeating over and over as if they were a broken record. The treasure—the thing that had driven my dad, that had consumed him—wasn't just about gold and jewels. It was about power, control, and the people who would do anything to get their hands on it.

I glanced over at JJ, who was gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping him anchored to reality. His jaw was clenched, eyes focused on the road ahead, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the barely-contained fear that we were in over our heads. And Pope, sitting in the back, was silent, his usual steady calm replaced by a deep, gnawing worry.

We weren't just some kids playing a dangerous game anymore. We were targets.

"We need to lay low," JJ said, breaking the tense silence. "We need to figure out what the hell we're dealing with before they find us."

I nodded, but the weight of the situation made it hard to focus. "We can't stay at the Chateau. It's too obvious. If they know who we are, they'll know where to find us."

"We can go to my place," Pope suggested, his voice quiet but firm. "It's out of the way, and we can regroup there."

JJ and I agreed without hesitation. Pope's house, with its overgrown yard and creaky floors, wasn't the most secure location, but it was better than staying out in the open. We needed time to think, to figure out what our next move would be.

The drive to Pope's felt like it took forever, the minutes stretching out in a haze of anxiety and fear. I kept glancing out the window, half-expecting to see headlights trailing us, or dark figures lurking in the shadows. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a reminder that we were running out of time.

When we finally pulled up to Pope's house, the sense of relief was almost overwhelming. We parked the Twinkie around the back, out of sight, and hurried inside, bolting the door behind us. The air inside was thick with dust and the smell of old wood, but it felt safe, at least for now.

We gathered in the small living room, the same place where we'd spent countless afternoons planning our next moves, our next adventures. But this time was different. This time, it wasn't about finding treasure—it was about staying alive.

I pulled the letter from my bag, unfolding it carefully. My dad's handwriting was scrawled across the yellowed paper, the ink faded in places but still legible. I read it aloud, my voice shaky as I spoke the words he'd written:

"John B,

If you're reading this, it means you've found the treasure. But it also means you're in danger. They've been following me, watching my every move. They know who I am, and they know who you are. They won't stop until they have what they want.

You have to be careful. Trust no one. Keep the journal safe—it's the key to everything. And whatever you do, don't let them find you.

I'm sorry, son. I wish I could be there to help you through this. But if you're reading this, it means I couldn't outrun them. It means I couldn't protect you.

But you can do what I couldn't. Finish what I started. Protect the treasure. And remember, no matter what happens, I'm proud of you.

Love, Dad."

When I finished reading, the room was silent. The words hung in the air, heavy with a finality that made my chest tighten. My dad hadn't just been searching for treasure—he'd been running for his life, and now that burden had fallen to us.

"What do we do now?" Pope asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I didn't have an answer. For the first time since this whole thing started, I felt completely lost. My dad's letter had given us a warning, but no clear direction. We had the treasure, the journal, but we also had a target on our backs, and I didn't know how to protect the people I cared about.

"We need help," JJ said suddenly, breaking through the fog of my thoughts. "We can't do this on our own."

"Who?" I asked, my voice tinged with desperation. "Who can we trust?"

JJ hesitated, his eyes flicking to the window as if expecting someone to burst through at any moment. "Kie," he said finally. "She's the only one who can help us figure this out."

I nodded slowly, the idea settling in my mind. Kie was smart, resourceful, and she'd been with us through thick and thin. If anyone could help us navigate this mess, it was her.

"We'll need to move fast," Pope said, already reaching for his phone. "We don't know how much time we have before they find us."

"Call her," I said, feeling a sense of urgency prickling at my skin. "Tell her to meet us here as soon as she can."

Pope nodded and dialed Kie's number, the phone pressed to his ear as we waited in tense silence. JJ paced the room, his energy barely contained, while I stared at the letter in my hands, trying to absorb the weight of my dad's final message.

When Pope hung up, he looked relieved. "She's on her way. She'll be here in twenty."

Twenty minutes. It felt like both an eternity and no time at all. We had twenty minutes to prepare, to figure out our next move before Kie arrived. But no matter how much I tried to think ahead, to plan, all I could focus on was the ticking clock in my head.

As we waited, I couldn't help but think about what my dad had gone through, how he must have felt knowing he was being hunted. And now, that same fear, that same pressure, was on us.

But I couldn't let it break me. I had to stay strong, for JJ, for Pope, and for Kie. We were all in this together, and if my dad's letter had taught me anything, it was that we couldn't afford to be reckless. We had to be smart, calculated. We had to think two steps ahead of whoever was out there.

The minutes dragged by, and I could feel the tension in the room rising with every tick of the clock. Finally, we heard the sound of a car pulling up outside, followed by hurried footsteps on the porch. A moment later, Kie burst through the door, her face flushed with worry.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded, her eyes scanning our faces for answers.

I handed her the letter, watching as her expression shifted from confusion to shock to determination. When she looked up at me, there was a fire in her eyes, the same fire I'd seen so many times before, the one that told me she was ready for whatever came next.

"We need to protect the treasure," she said, her voice steady and sure. "But we also need to protect ourselves. We can't let them find us."

"Where do we go?" JJ asked, his voice tight with the need for action.

Kie thought for a moment, then nodded to herself as if coming to a decision. "We need to get off the island. They know who we are, where we live. Staying here is too risky."

"Off the island?" Pope echoed, his brow furrowed. "But where?"

"There's an old fishing cabin on the mainland," Kie said, her eyes darting between us. "My dad used to take me there when I was a kid. It's secluded, off the grid. We can lay low there while we figure out our next move."

It was a good plan—probably the best one we had. The island was our home, but it was also a trap. The mainland offered us a chance to regroup, to breathe, and to think without the constant fear of being discovered.

"We'll need to move fast," Kie added, already heading for the door. "Grab what you need, and let's go."

We didn't waste any time. Within minutes, we were packed and ready, the Twinkie loaded down with everything we could carry. As we pulled away from Pope's house, I couldn't help but glance back at the island, a knot of fear and sadness tightening in my chest.

This was our home, our sanctuary, but now it felt like a prison. We were leaving everything behind—our lives, our friends, the only place we'd ever known.

But as much as it hurt, I knew we were doing the right thing. We couldn't fight this battle on the island, not with the odds stacked against us. We needed space, distance, and time to figure out what to do next.

As we drove toward the mainland, the tension in the van was palpable. No one spoke, each of us lost in our own thoughts, our own fears. But even in the silence, there was a sense of unity, of purpose.

We were in this together, and we would see it through to the end—whatever that end might be.

The road ahead was long, uncertain, and filled with danger. But as long as we had each other, I knew we could face anything.