Dove's dream began in an eerie, suffocating silence. She found herself standing in the middle of Starcourt, but it wasn't the bustling place she'd come to know. The fluorescent lights were dimmed to a deep crimson hue that bled into every corner of the space.
The mall was unrecognizable. Thick, black vines snaked across the walls and ceiling, pulsing faintly like veins carrying poison. The once-pristine tile floors were cracked and uneven, overrun by the twisting, invasive tendrils. Every step she took felt heavy, the soles of her shoes sticking to the slick, darkened surface. The air was damp, oppressive, and carried an earthy, metallic tang that clung to the back of her throat.
At the center of the mall, near the fountain, a jagged crack split the floor wide open, glowing faintly with a pulsating red light. The vines seemed to converge there, writhing as if feeding off the energy. Dove froze, her breath hitching as a cold dread seeped into her chest.
The mall seemed to shift and tilt, like the world itself was tearing apart at the seams. The light flared, bathing everything in a blinding red that pierced through her vision and set her nerves on edge. Dove pressed her eyes shut, shielding them with her arm, her heart hammering so hard she thought it might burst. The oppressive silence was replaced by a low, rumbling vibration that seemed to come from everywhere at once, shaking her to her core.
She couldn't breathe, couldn't think—until the light and the sound suddenly vanished.
When she opened her eyes, the crimson haze was gone. Instead, she was back in her room, staring up at the familiar cracks in her ceiling. Her chest heaved, each breath labored and shallow, as if she'd just run a marathon. Sweat clung to her skin like a heavy blanket, her hair sticking to the back of her neck.
For a moment, Dove just laid there, her mind struggling to separate the nightmare from reality. The silence of her room felt deafening after the overwhelming chaos of her dream, but the residual dread lingered. Her hands trembled as she reached up to wipe her damp forehead, her entire body aching with tension.
The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft, pale glow through the edges of Dove's blinds as she dragged herself into a sitting position. Tews, curled at the foot of the bed, let out a tired and annoyed meow at the disturbance, her tail flicking lazily.
Dove glanced at the clock on her nightstand. 6:02 a.m.
With a resigned sigh, Dove grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. The warm water helped ease the tension in her muscles, but it did little to quiet the unease lingering in her chest. By the time she was dressed and ready for the day, the faint smell of cinnamon and butter wafted through the house, drawing her toward the kitchen.
When Dove walked in, her mom was standing at the stove, a spatula in one hand and an apron tied around her waist. The skillet sizzled as she flipped a slice of French toast, its golden surface speckled with cinnamon. "Morning, sweetie," her mom greeted without looking up, her tone warm and familiar. "You heading into the office early?"
Dove hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Yeah," she said, sliding into a chair at the kitchen table. "I've got a lot of work to catch up on."
Her mom glanced over her shoulder, a small smile on her lips. "So it has nothing to do with a certain boy who's coming for breakfast?" Her voice was light and teasing, but her eyes sparkled knowingly.
Dove let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "No, Mom. It's really just work. I've got a bunch of stuff I need to get done."
Her mom raised an eyebrow before turning back to the stove. "If you say so," she replied lightly, but the teasing lilt in her voice lingered.
Dove's mind drifted as she stared at the tabletop, her thoughts a jumbled mess. Images of Steve—his worried expression last night, the softness in his voice when he'd reassured her—mingled with the residual unease from her nightmares and the tension of her own unanswered questions. The tangle of emotions was exhausting.
Her mom's voice broke through the haze. "That reminds me," she said, setting a plate of French toast in front of Dove, its sweet aroma wafting up. "Eddie Munson called while you were at the mall yesterday. Said he wanted to talk to you. Something about clearing the air.""
Dove froze, her fork halfway to her plate. She hadn't spoken to Eddie in over a month, not since his deceptive D&D game—his not-so-subtle way of trying to convince her to break up with Steve. The memory of it stung, and she'd been avoiding him ever since, though admittedly, he had made some valid points.
Her mom noticed the shift and sat down across from Dove, leaning forward slightly, her expression soft but concerned. "Dovey, is everything okay?"
Dove swallowed, feigning a light smile as she kept her eyes on her plate. "Everything's fine, Mom. Just tired, that's all."
Claudia's lips pressed into a thin line as she reached across the table, squeezing Dove's arm gently. Reluctantly, Dove lifted her gaze, meeting her mother's eyes. Claudia gave her a small, tight smile, her grip on Dove's arm firm yet comforting. "Dove, I know you are strong and intelligent. And I know that there have been times when I haven't been there for you and Dustin as much as I should have." Her voice wavered slightly, the words heavy with regret. "But I can still tell when something's wrong. You don't have to tell me, but you need to talk to someone. Maybe I can make you an appointment with a doctor?"
Dove's brow furrowed at the suggestion, her fork clinking softly against the plate as she set it down. "A doctor?" she echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Her mom nodded, her thumb brushing over Dove's arm in a soothing motion. "Sometimes it helps to talk to someone who isn't in the middle of everything. Someone who can give you tools to handle whatever you're dealing with." Claudia paused, studying Dove's reaction carefully. Her voice softened even further, filled with an earnestness that was impossible to ignore. "Just think about it, okay?"
Dove forced a small smile, nodding. "I will," she said, though she wasn't sure if she actually meant it. The suggestion lingered uncomfortably in her mind, like a splinter lodged deep into her amygdala.
She finished her breakfast in silence, the weight of the conversation pressing on her as she grabbed her bag and headed toward the front door. The morning air was crisp and still, offering a brief reprieve—until the unmistakable sound of a car engine broke through the quiet. Dove sighed as she stepped onto the porch, her shoulders sagging slightly when she saw Steve's familiar car pulling into the driveway.
He parked with his usual lack of precision, the tires slightly askew on the pavement. Steve climbed out of his car, a jacket zipped tightly over his sailor uniform, as if he were trying to hide as much of it as possible. His trademark lopsided grin appeared as he gave Dove a small wave.
"Morning," he called, slinging his keys into his pocket. "You heading out already?"
Dove paused, glancing back at him as she adjusted the strap of her bag. "Yeah," she replied, her tone light but distant. "Got some stuff to catch up on at the office."
Steve nodded, rocking back on his heels. "Right, well I uh, I guess I'll see you later then."
Dove just smiled at him, a small, polite curve of her lips, before turning to open her car door. Steve continued toward the front door, but as she was about to slide into the driver's seat, his voice called out again.
"Hey, Dove."
She paused, straightening back up and leaning her arm over the car door. "Yeah?"
Steve hesitated, and for a moment Dove thought he might not say anything, but then he took a tentative step toward her. "You sure you're okay?"
Dove just stared at him, her grip tightening on the edge of the door. A familiar bubble of frustration rose in her throat, the kind that had become an unwelcome constant since the events of last fall. She sighed, swallowing the sharp edge of her anger, though it lingered, hot and bitter.
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" she said, her voice sharp despite her best efforts to temper it. Her tone made Steve pause, his brows knitting together in concern.
"Because we care about you," Steve said gently, taking a step closer. "And.. I don't know, you just seem—"
"I'm fine, Steve," Dove cut him off, her words brisk. She stepped into her car, gripping the wheel tightly as she looked out at him.
Steve hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, but he simply nodded, taking a step back.
Dove started the car and pulled out of the driveway, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror as Steve disappeared into the house. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that lingered from their exchange. By the time she reached the mall and stepped into the office, her mind was already focused on the day ahead.
The sight that greeted her, however, made her pause. Danny was already there, seated at his desk, his brow furrowed as he poured over a stack of documents. A pen rested loosely in his right hand, while his left held a crisp, new copy of a Russian translation book. He didn't seem to notice her enter, his concentration unbroken.
Dove's eyes flicked to the bag hanging lazily off the back of his chair. She stared at it, her pulse quickening as her thoughts spiraled. Was the gun still in there? Had he taken it home, or was it casually sitting a few feet away from her right now? For a fleeting moment, her instincts screamed at her to turn around and leave, to call in sick or invent a distant family tragedy that required her immediate absence.
Before she could decide, Danny glanced up, his expression brightening with his usual smile. "Morning, Dove," he said, his tone light and easy. But something about the way his shoulders didn't fully relax or how the corners of his eyes didn't crinkle as much as usual struck her as off.
Dove hesitated, her gaze lingering on him for a second longer than she intended. Was it her imagination, or had she just never noticed that tension beneath the surface before?
"Morning," she replied, sliding into her chair and forcing herself to sound casual. She picked up a pen and started rifling through her own stack of papers, though her thoughts were far from work. "You're here early."
Danny leaned back slightly, resting his arm on the edge of his desk. "Couldn't sleep," he said with a shrug, his smile remaining firmly in place.
Dove glanced up at him, narrowing her eyes slightly as she reached for a pen. He studied her face for a moment, his gaze lingering. "Looks like you didn't sleep much either," he remarked casually.
Dove's brows furrowed, her hand pausing mid-reach. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice tinged with mock indignation.
Danny's smile faltered, his posture stiffening as he immediately backtracked. "I didn't mean it like that—"
"Relax, I'm messing with you," Dove interrupted, her lips twitching into a small smirk.
She studied Danny's reaction carefully, her eyes searching his face for any sign of hostility or deceit—anything to prove to herself that she wasn't being crazy or paranoid. But there was nothing. His smile seemed genuine, warm even, though there was a flicker of nervousness in the way his gaze darted back down to the papers on his desk.
Dove focused on her own tasks, forcing herself to push her doubts about Danny to the back of her mind. The hours crawled by, each one feeling heavier than the last. She tackled filing, updated case notes, and even spent too much time formatting a document just to keep her mind occupied. Lunch came and went, and the rhythmic ticking of the office clock was the only thing keeping her aware of time. When the office finally closed for the day, Dove was the first one out, eager to put some distance between herself and the strange energy lingering in the room.
Stepping into the food court, Dove instantly noticed something unusual out of the corner of her eye. Steve and Dustin were sneaking around, their movements comically exaggerated as they darted between potted plants and crouched behind low walls. Dustin had a pair of binoculars pressed to his face, swiveling them dramatically as he scanned the area.
Dove sighed, her lips twitching into an exasperated smile. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and walked toward them, her curiosity piqued. Just as she got close, Dustin spun around, the binoculars locking onto her.
His eyes widened, and he let out a sharp whisper, "Shit!" He grabbed Steve's arm, yanking him down behind the nearest plant. Steve stumbled, nearly losing his balance as he was dragged into hiding.
Dove approached their not-so-subtle hiding spot and when she peered over the plant, she saw Dustin crouched low, frantically whispering something to Steve.
"What exactly are you two doing?" Dove asked, her voice flat but tinged with amusement.
Dustin froze, slowly lowering the binoculars to reveal his guilty expression. "Uh.. recon?" he offered weakly.
Dove moved to stand directly in front of them, crossing her arms over her chest and fixing them both with a pointed stare. "And how's that working out for you?" she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Steve started to chuckle, brushing some dirt off his sailor shorts. "Oh, you'll never believe who Dustin thought—"
"You thought he was an evil Russian too!" Dustin interrupted, his voice defensive as he jabbed a finger at Steve.
"I did not!"
"You literally whispered, 'he's definitely KGB,' under your breath!"
"I said maybe KGB! Maybe!"
Dove rolled her eyes, her patience already worn thin. "Alright, enough," she said sharply, cutting through their bickering. Both of them immediately fell silent, looking up at her like guilty children. "I thought I told you not to do anything stupid."
Dustin opened his mouth to argue, but his words faltered mid-sentence. His gaze drifted past Dove, and his expression shifted to one of alarm. "Oh, shit," he muttered under his breath, fumbling to press the binoculars back over his eyes. "Evil Russian, six o'clock."
Dove narrowed her eyes at Dustin, annoyance bubbling to the surface, but before she could say anything, he grabbed her arm and pulled her down behind a nearby plant. "What the hell, Dustin?" she hissed, trying to shake free, but he just shoved the binoculars into her hands.
"Just look!" Dustin whispered urgently, his eyes darting toward the food court.
With an exasperated sigh, Dove adjusted the binoculars and brought them up to her eyes. "What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?" she asked, her tone heavy with skepticism.
Dustin gestured subtly toward the far side of the food court. "I don't know, how about the Terminator on steroids over there."
Dove rolled her eyes but shifted the binoculars in the direction he indicated. Her gaze landed on a very tall man with short-cropped dark hair, his imposing frame cutting through the crowd like a knife. His movements were deliberate, almost mechanical, as his sharp eyes scanned the food court with laser focus.
Dove shoved the binoculars back into Dustin's hands, rolling her eyes. "Just because he's tall doesn't mean he's an evil Russian."
Both Dustin and Steve turned to her, wearing identical expressions of disbelief, as if she had just said the dumbest thing they'd ever heard.
"Seriously?" Dustin muttered, shaking his head to stop himself from going into another rant about the identifying features of the average KGB assassin. "Look, Dove, there's only one way to know for sure."
Dove crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at her brother. "And what's that?"
A wicked smile crept across Dustin's face as he whispered, "We follow him."
Dove's jaw dropped slightly, a mix of disbelief and exasperation flashing across her face. "Absolutely not," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. She pointed an accusatory finger at her brother. "You promised me—promised—nothing dangerous or stupid."
Dustin didn't even pause. "Come on, we're gonna lose him," he hissed, already skulking off after the man, crouching low behind the scattered tables.
Dove groaned, shooting a glance at Steve, who simply shrugged helplessly and trailed after Dustin.
"Unbelievable," Dove muttered under her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose before following them. While Dustin and Steve exaggeratedly ducked behind tables and columns, Dove walked at a steady pace, her arms crossed, trying not to look like she was part of their ridiculous operation.
Her steps faltered, however, as the tall man approached the familiar door of the law office. Dove's brows furrowed as her boss appeared almost instantly, greeting the man with a brisk nod and ushering him inside.
Dove stopped dead in her tracks, her unease bubbling into a full-blown knot in her stomach. "What the hell?" she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
Behind her, Dustin popped up from behind a nearby table, his binoculars pressed to his face. "Did he just go into your office?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and alarm.
Steve stood up as well, brushing crumbs off his uniform. "This is weird, right? Tell me this is weird."
"It's weird," Dove muttered, her gaze fixed on the door. She turned to Dustin, her voice low but firm. "Stay here."
"What?" Dustin started to protest, but Dove silenced him with a sharp look.
"Stay here," she repeated, before walking briskly toward the law office.
Before Dove could second-guess herself, she pushed through the main door of the office, her heart hammering in her chest. The room was eerily silent, the usual hum of activity replaced by an unsettling stillness. Her eyes wandered to her boss's office door at the far end, which was firmly closed.
Through the frosted glass, she could make out three figures inside. Their silhouettes moved in sharp gestures, and though their voices were muffled, the tone was unmistakably tense. Dove's hands trembled as she took a hesitant step forward, her mind screaming at her to turn around and run like hell.
Her elbow bumped into the pencil holder on the nearest desk, sending it tumbling to the ground with a loud clatter. She flinched at the noise, cursing herself for being exactly like the characters in horror movies— the ones that didn't survive the axe murderer.
The voices inside the office abruptly stopped. Her breath caught, and a chill ran down her spine as the office door was suddenly whipped open. Standing there was the tall man, his piercing eyes narrowing as they locked onto her. He stepped toward her, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over the quiet office.
Dove took a shaky step back, panic bubbling in her chest, but before she could move further, her boss's voice rang out, calm but firm. "Hold on, Grigori," he said, stepping into view.
Another voice came from the office, smooth and familiar. "Who is it, Tony?"
Dove's blood ran cold as the man stepped into the doorway. Larry Kline, the mayor of Hawkins, emerged, his expression curious but tinged with his usual smarmy arrogance. Dove had to force herself not to react, her nails digging into her palms to keep her composure.
Kline's gaze swept over her, appraising and dismissive in the same instant. "This your secretary or something?" he asked with a slight sneer.
Her boss chuckled lightly, glancing back at Kline. "No, no. This is Dove Henderson, one of our interns from the high school." He then turned his attention fully to Dove, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What are you doing here, Dove? I thought you'd gone home for the day."
Dove's heart pounded as she summoned a smile, doing everything she could to keep her voice steady. "I, uh, forgot my bag," she said, her tone light and casual as she gestured to the bag hanging across her shoulder. "Realized as I was heading out and thought I'd grab it before it got too late." She glanced down at the stationary scattered across the floor. "Sorry about the mess. I can clean it up before I go."
Tony shook his head, his tone dismissive. "Don't worry about it, Dove. Just go home and get some rest, yeah? I'll see you tomorrow."
Dove nodded quickly as her eyes darted between the three men—Grigori, her boss, and Mayor Kline. Their watchful stares made her stomach churn, but she forced herself to maintain her composure. "Right, see you tomorrow, Mr. Abernathy," she said, her voice tight but polite.
Just as she was about to turn to leave, the door behind her creaked open. All four of them turned to look. Steve stood in the doorway, his jaw set and his shoulders tense as his gaze swept over the room. His eyes landed on Dove, his expression a mixture of worry and confusion.
"You find what you were looking for?" he asked carefully, his voice low and tight.
Dove managed a small nod and stepped toward him. "Yeah," she said quickly, glancing at the men behind her. "Let's go."
Steve didn't move, his eyes flicking to the imposing figure of Grigori and then back to Dove, before he reluctantly stepped aside to let her pass through the door, his eyes never leaving the men. Dove grabbed Steve's arm, dragging him with her as they retreated from the office.
As they rounded the corner and reached the edge of the food court, Dustin practically sprinted up to them, his face alight with curiosity and concern. "What happened? Did you see—"
"Not here," Dove cut him off, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. Without another word, she led them back into the back room of Scoops Ahoy, where Robin was pacing excitedly.
The moment the door shut behind them, the room erupted.
Dustin immediately launched into a barrage of questions. "Did you see anything? Who was that guy? Was he Russian?"
At the same time, Steve crossed his arms and fixed Dove with a stern look. "What the hell were you thinking? You broke your own 'no stupid danger' rule, Dove. Do you have any idea how bad that could've gone?"
Dove spun to face him, exasperated. "How was I supposed to know that was gonna happen, Steve?"
As the three of them bickered, Robin stood by the counter, trying to interject. "Hey, guys," she said, her voice drowned out by the arguing.
Steve shook his head. "You don't get to lecture us about unnecessary danger and then put yourself in harms way! What if—"
"Guys," Robin repeated, louder this time, her hands gripping the edge of the counter.
"Not now, Robin!" Dove snapped, holding up a hand to silence her without even a glance in her direction.
Robin's expression hardened, and she planted her hands on her hips. "Hey!" she finally shouted, her voice cutting through the noise.
Dove whirled to face her, frustration etched into her features. "What?!" she demanded, her tone sharper than she intended.
Robin's eyes narrowed as she held up a small pad of paper. "I cracked the code."
The rain poured down in sheets, soaking through Dove's clothes as she, Dustin, Robin, and Steve lay shoulder to shoulder on the roof of Starcourt Mall. The cold, wet surface pressed against them, and the icy rain seeped into their bones, but none of them dared to move. Dove's jacket hood was pulled tightly over her head, shielding her face from the relentless downpour, but she could still feel the chill creeping in. Beside her, Steve had no such protection—his jacket didn't have a hood, leaving his hair plastered to his forehead and rain streaming down his face. He blinked furiously, trying to keep the water out of his eyes.
They all had a clear view of the loading dock below, where a Lynx Transportation truck had just pulled up. The headlights cut through the storm, casting long, eerie shadows across the wet pavement.
Dove squinted through the downpour, her heart pounding as two armed gunmen stepped out of the truck, their black raincoats shimmering under the dim, flickering lights of the loading dock. One scanned the area, his sharp eyes sweeping the perimeter, while the other motioned toward the back of the truck. The delivery guy moved quickly, rolling out a dolly stacked high with boxes stamped with the Imperial Panda logo.
Robin shifted uncomfortably to Dove's left, her voice barely audible over the pounding rain. "What do you think is in the boxes?" she whispered. "Guns? Bombs?"
Dove shivered, more from nerves than the cold, her hood doing little to block the chill seeping through her jacket. Her eyes never left the scene below. "Could be anything," she murmured.
Dustin, lying on his stomach with binoculars pressed to his eyes, stared intently, giving the others a play-by-play of the action below them. "There's more inside," he muttered. "They're bringing in a whole shipment. The guy with the keycard—he just unlocked a door."
Steve shifted closer to Dustin, squinting at the activity below. "Let me see," he said, reaching for the binoculars, his voice tense.
"No way!" Dustin hissed, yanking the binoculars back with a defiant glare. But the motion was too quick, and the binoculars clattered against the wet rooftop with a loud bang that echoed in the downpour.
All four froze, their breath catching as the sound echoed into the night. Below, one of the gunmen paused mid-step, his head snapping upward, eyes narrowing as he peered toward the roof.
"Duck!" Dove hissed, her voice barely audible over the pounding rain. She dropped down immediately, yanking Steve with her before he could even react. They pressed close together, shoulder to shoulder, the icy rain between them forgotten as their eyes locked in shared panic. Steve's breath came shallow, his soaked hair plastered to his forehead. "We need to move," Dove whispered urgently, her grip tightening on his arm.
He gave a small nod, the seriousness in his eyes making Dove's stomach flip.
They barely had time to scramble back before the roof access door burst open behind them. One of the gunmen appeared, his raincoat flapping in the wind as he stepped out onto the roof, scanning the area where they'd just been. The rain pelted his coat, cascading off in rivulets as he took slow, deliberate steps forward.
Dove's heart raced as she grabbed Steve's hand, pulling him with her as they retreated to the edge of the roof, keeping low and praying the darkness and rain would conceal them. Dustin and Robin were already ahead, their soaked bodies huddled in the shadows near the exit.
The gunman's boots thudded steadily, each step sending a shiver through Dove's body. He was getting closer. Too close. Her grip on Steve's hand tightened instinctively, and she felt him tense beside her, his muscles coiled as if ready to spring into action.
The seconds stretched, each one more agonizing than the last. The sound of the rain roared around them, but every step of the gunman's boots felt deafeningly loud.
Dove's eyes darted toward the others. Robin's breath came in shallow bursts, her hood dripping with rainwater as she pressed further into the shadows. Dustin clutched his binoculars tightly, his knuckles white with tension.
The gunman paused, his head tilting as if he'd heard something. Dove froze, her body rigid as the man's gaze swept dangerously close to their hiding spot. The storm surged, thunder rolling overhead, and the rain intensified, momentarily drowning out all other sounds. It was the chance they needed.
Dove gave a small signal, her hand moving in a quick, deliberate motion. One by one, they slipped away from the rooftop, their movements slow and cautious. Steve followed last, his breath ragged but silent as they crept toward the exit.
As they reached the door, the gunman turned, his flashlight slicing through the rain just moments too late. The beam skimmed over the rooftop, missing them by inches.
Dove and Steve rushed down the metal stairs, their footsteps echoing in the stairwell. They still held hands, gripping each other tightly, the urgency of the situation keeping them moving in sync. Dove threw a glance over her shoulder, half-expecting to see the gunman following them down the stairs. The adrenaline pumping through her veins made her heart hammer in her chest.
They didn't slow until they hit the food court. Only then did they glance down and realize their hands were still clasped together. With a jolt, they quickly pulled apart, mumbling awkward apologies.
Before the moment could linger, Dustin turned around, his face glowing with excitement, completely oblivious to the tension between Dove and Steve. "Guys, we did it! We found the evil Russians! Now we just have to find a way into that room!"
Dove, still catching her breath, stopped dead in her tracks. She reached out and grabbed Dustin's arm, her grip firm enough to get his attention. "No, Dustin, listen to me," she said, her voice steady but intense. "We need to tell Hopper."
Dustin's grin vanished in an instant, replaced by a look of shock and defiance. "What? No! No way! We can't do that!"
Dove shook her head, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Do you remember what happened last year?" she said, her voice dropping as she glanced over at Robin, who stood a few feet away, looking confused. "We can't afford to keep this a secret, Dustin. Not this time. We need help."
Robin's brow furrowed, her gaze darting between the two of them. "Okay, I'm gonna need someone to start at the beginning because I am seriously out of the loop here."
Dustin ignored her, his eyes locking onto Steve with a desperate plea. "Come on, Steve! Back me up here! You know we're onto something huge. This is our chance to prove it. We just need a little more time!"
Steve stood frozen for a moment, caught in the crossfire between Dustin's eagerness and Dove's unwavering resolve. His brows knit together as he glanced between them, his jaw tightening. He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his wet hair, clearly torn.
Robin crossed her arms, her brow furrowed as she tried to piece everything together. "Okay, I have no idea what happened last year, but I'm with Dustin on this. We don't have enough yet. If we jump the gun, the police are just gonna laugh us out of the station."
Dove's jaw tightened, and she turned to face Robin fully. "Exactly. You have no idea what happened last year," she said, her voice sharp. "So you don't get a vote."
Robin's eyebrows shot up, and she let out a dry laugh. "Oh, I don't get a vote? Sure, let me just sit here and keep my mouth shut while you call the shots. As if I haven't been busting my ass to help figure this out."
"Busting your ass?" Dove snapped, stepping closer. "You've been cracking jokes and playing spy. But this isn't a joke anymore, Robin. So excuse me if I don't feel like explaining myself to you"
Robin folded her arms tightly across her chest, her gaze narrowing. "Right, because clearly, keeping secrets worked out so well for you guys last time."
Dove stepped forward, her frustration boiling over. "You don't—" she started, but before she could say more, Steve reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her.
"That's enough," Steve said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension. His eyes flicked between Dove and Robin, his expression serious. "We're all on the same team here. Let's not forget that."
Robin scoffed, shaking her head as she threw her hands up in exasperation. "It's hard to be on a team with people who don't trust me. I've been here, doing the same work as you guys, but somehow I'm still in the dark!"
Dustin stepped in, his tone hurried and placating. "It's not that we don't trust you, Robin. It's just.. we literally can't tell you."
Dove's head snapped toward Dustin, her voice low and warning. "Dustin."
But Robin's curiosity was already piqued, her eyes narrowing as she zeroed in on Dustin. "Can't tell me? What does that even mean? Your acting like you guys signed an NDA or something."
Dustin opened his mouth, but Dove cut him off sharply. "Dustin." Her tone was final, her glare silencing him immediately.
Robin's gaze darted between them, her mind racing. "Wait—NDAs? Are you serious? What the hell is going on?"
Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Robin, it's complicated, okay?"
Robin's arms dropped to her sides as she stared at him, disbelief written all over her face. "Complicated? That's your answer? You expect me to just sit here and not ask questions while you're keeping some crazy serious secrets?"
Dove didn't give anyone else a chance to respond. She stepped forward, her tone cutting through the room like a blade. "This conversation is over," she said firmly, her eyes locking onto Robin before sweeping across the group. "And so is this investigation."
"What?" Dustin blurted out, his voice filled with disbelief.
"Dove, come on—" Steve started, but she raised a hand, silencing him.
"No. I'm serious," Dove snapped, her voice unwavering. "It's too dangerous." Robin opened her mouth to argue, but Dove cut her off with a sharp glare. "If I find out that any of you keep looking into this, I'm going to Hopper. I mean it. It's done."
The group fell into stunned silence, the weight of her words settling over them like a heavy fog.
"Dustin," Dove said, turning to her brother, her tone softer but no less resolute. "We're leaving. Now."
Dustin's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. For a moment, it looked like he might argue, but then he dropped his gaze, a storm of frustration and hurt brewing behind his eyes. Without saying a word, he followed her toward the door, his movements stiff and reluctant.
Robin crossed her arms, her expression unreadable for a moment before she turned to Steve. "Okay, seriously. You're not gonna tell me?"
Steve sighed, meeting her gaze with a warning look, his jaw tight. "Drop it, Robin." He reached into his pocket, fishing out his car keys and changing the subject. "You want a ride home?"
Robin hesitated, her frustration clear, but eventually she relented with a sigh. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."
They headed toward the parking lot and Robin shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, glancing at Steve out of the corner of her eye.
"So," she started casually, her tone light but teasing, as they stepped out into the downpour. The rain pounded against the pavement, soaking into their already damp clothes. "Dove's kind of a badass, huh? A little bitchy, too. Not at all what I was expecting."
Steve groaned, rolling his eyes as they splashed through a puddle. "Not now, Robin."
Robin smirked, clearly not planning to stop. "What? You're always talking about her, but you never mentioned this. No wonder you've been too scared to say anything to her all summer."
Steve scoffed, his shoulders tensing as he pulled the car keys from his pocket. Rain dripped down his face as he unlocked the car door. "I'm not scared."
Robin snorted as she slid into the passenger seat. "Uh-huh. Sure, dingus. You've been watching her from across the food court all summer, like you're Kevin Bacon trying to ask out the preacher's daughter or something. But I get it now. She's terrifying."
Steve groaned as he climbed into the driver's seat, swiping at his soaked face with one hand while tossing the keys into the ignition with the other. Rainwater dripped from his hair, and he let out an annoyed sigh. "Yeah, thanks for that, Robin. Real helpful."
Robin shrugged, her grin widening as she buckled her seatbelt. "I'm just saying, it all makes sense now. We're gonna have to make some serious revisions to our 'win her back' plan. This is gonna be harder than I thought."
Steve shot her a look as he started the car, the windshield wipers squeaking to life against the downpour. "Since when do we have a 'win her back' plan?"
Robin turned toward him, gesturing dramatically. "Since it became painfully obvious that you're completely useless without my help."
Steve let out an exasperated sigh. "I don't need a plan, and I don't need your help."
Robin smirked, unfazed by the sharp glare Steve shot her way. "You know," she started, her tone casual but loaded with mischief, "when Ronnie told me you and Dove were dating last year, I thought she was joking."
Steve groaned, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he glanced at her. "Robin—"
"Wait, let me finish," she interrupted, holding up a finger. "What I'm trying to say is, it's a miracle Dove even dated you in the first place. She is so way out of your league. But if anyone can salvage this, it's me."