Chapter 2 Fire In The Flesh 2

Jaxon stood with his arms crossed, eyes like flint in the flicker of the firepit they'd built from driftwood and broken dreams. He didn't trust any of them - not completely. Maybe Lena, in flashes. Maybe Ivy when she didn't know he was watching. But he had survived the system, the gangs, the nights in juvie because he believed one truth:

Everyone lies.

Now, he needed to figure out who was lying about this.

He still remembered the way the blood splattered the backroom wall at The Crimson Vault.

The moment the gun went off.

And Mira's scream.

But the memory was blurry, like a movie shot in smoke. Someone had pushed him. Someone had screamed. He'd hit the floor.

When he got up, Viktor D'Angelo was bleeding out. One hand clutched his chest. The other still reached for Lena.

Dead. Just like that.

Jaxon had checked Lena first. She was shaking, mascara running down her cheeks, blood on her collarbone. She hadn't spoken for hours after.

Everyone assumed it was Jaxon.

Hell, he almost did.

But when he'd lifted the gun from the floor - no prints. Wiped clean.

Someone wanted him to take the fall.

Now, under the stars, Ivy finally closed her sketchbook.

She had drawn Lena with fire for eyes.

She could never say what she felt, but in her sketches Lena was raw, holy, sinful, and sacred all at once. Ivy had never wanted anyone like this before - not even when she kissed that girl under the bleachers last fall, not even when she let Jaxon kiss her once, just to feel something.

Lena was different.

Lena was danger wrapped in perfume and skin.

And now Lena was hunted.

They all were.

"You're being quiet," Cameron said, tossing a rock into the tide.

"I'm thinking," Mira said.

"That's new," he muttered.

Mira didn't respond. She didn't flinch either. She simply stared at the fire, watching the embers rise like tiny ghosts.

"Cut it out," Lena snapped. "We're not turning on each other."

"Oh, forgive me," Cameron said, sarcastic. "We're all friends here. You know, except for the murder part."

"We did what we had to," Jaxon said coldly. "You want to go to the cops? Be my guest. But don't expect any of us to follow."

"No one's going anywhere," Lena said.

"What if they come for us?" Ivy asked, her voice a whisper.

"They will," Jaxon said. "Sooner than we think."

A branch cracked in the distance.

The teens froze.

Jaxon's hand moved to his jacket, where he kept a switchblade. Cameron's jaw tensed. Lena's cigarette dropped into the sand.

Another crack.

Then a light.

Flashlight beam.

Closer.

A voice called out: "Hey! Anyone down there?!"

Sheriff's voice.

Sheriff Cullen.

They all scrambled at once - Mira yanking her shoes on, Ivy grabbing her sketchbook, Lena already sprinting toward the dunes.

"Split up!" Cameron hissed. "Back to the tunnel!"

Jaxon grabbed Mira's arm. "You come with me."

"I-"

"Now."

They ran.

The beach fell behind them in a blur of sand and sweat and panic.

Ten minutes later, they regrouped in the abandoned lifeguard shack.

Breathless. Shaken.

"You think he saw us?" Ivy asked.

"No," Jaxon said. "But he knows something. Cullen's not an idiot."

"What now?" Mira asked.

Lena turned to them, her eyes blazing.

"We find out who framed Jaxon."

Cameron snorted. "That's what we're doing now? Playing detectives?"

"No," Lena said, stepping close. "We're surviving. Which means we find out who set us up. Which one of us has blood under their nails."

A silence fell.

Heavy. Suspicious.

"Ivy?" Cameron said suddenly, eyes narrowing. "You were there. You saw everything."

"Stop," Lena snapped.

"Why do you always defend her?" he shot back. "You don't even know what she's capable of."

Ivy's voice was ice. "I know what you are."

They stared at each other.

Old tension. Secrets. Jealousy.

Then Mira cracked.

"I shot him."

The words landed like thunder.

Everyone turned.

Mira stood against the shack wall, her face pale, her lower lip trembling, but her voice didn't break again.

"I killed Viktor D'Angelo."

No one spoke for a moment.

Then Jaxon whispered, "You're lying."

"I'm not."

Lena stepped closer. "Mira... why?"

"Because he was going to kill you," she said, voice rising. "He said he owned you. He had a gun. I didn't know what to do-so I shot him. I didn't plan it. I just-reacted."

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I didn't want you to die."

Lena blinked, stunned.

Mira looked away.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I thought if you knew... you'd hate me."

"I don't hate you," Lena whispered.

But Ivy was watching Mira now.

And something didn't add up.

Because when Ivy had drawn the scene-something had been off.

The angle.

The entry wound.

The way Viktor fell.

And Mira... was standing in front of him.

Not behind.

Not in the direction the shot came from.

Ivy said nothing.

She just opened her sketchbook again.

And started drawing the truth.