[ ix. catch and release ]

➸➸➸

"HE IS DEFINITELY OUT of air."

Pope Heyward's sharp remark pulled Willa Deveraux from her sluggish state of mind and she hastily lifted her head, allowing the cool breeze of the marsh to blow her knotted locks back from her sweaty, sun-kissed cheeks. Pope was now knelt near the stern of the HMS Pogue, peering down into the depths of the darkening waves that had pulled John B. Routledge below, surely, more than twenty-five minutes ago now. At his worried tone, Willa was on her feet in an instant, wobbling slightly as the boat rocked beneath her shifting weight, and quickly crossed over to where Pope lingered to look for herself.

JJ Maybank and Kiara Carrera followed close behind the Deveraux girl, each of them just as curious and fearful as to what exactly may have been happening below the surface of their very own boat. As Willa and Kiara both dropped down to their knees at the stern, the former pressed tightly against Pope's side as she carefully shimmied to the very edge of the slick boat and leaned in close. Her face was now mere inches from the calm water, the glow of the sunlight's reflection practically blinding her, even as she seemingly pretended that she suddenly contained the power to see to the very bottom of the marsh, and—more importantly to her—to John B.

"Where is he?" Kiara demanded worriedly.

Willa swallowed tightly, the worst of her imagination beginning to spiral away from her. "We have to go down—"

Suddenly, before Willa could finish her sentence, the still surface of the marsh was abruptly broken by the harsh surge upwards from none other than John B. himself. Leaning back in surprise, Willa and the surrounding teenagers all let out loud exhales of breath at the sight of the floundering but lively boy, panting loudly in the murky water as he hastily tore away the bitten respirator and cloudy goggles from his face to breathe proper, clean air.

"Jesus Christ!" JJ exclaimed, laughing out loud, even when Willa was certain he was only doing so to stop himself from swearing up a storm composed entirely from his erratic, firecracker nerves. "Don't scare us like that, man."

Willa, too, was fighting to keep her own swears contained behind her pressed pale lips. Even in her silence, she could feel the nervous tremor that echoed in the ghost of her missing tone, its buzzing electricity tightly caught in her narrow chest, burning and branding into the spaces between her ribs. "Are you okay, John B.?" She finally forced from between clenched teeth.

"How'd it go down there?" Pope prodded from beside her.

"Yeah, did you find anything?" JJ questioned, stepping around to the far side of the boat to lend John B. a helping hand out of the marsh.

John B. Routledge was grinning madly, his skin glowing a soft auburn haze against the dying light above as he was pulled back onboard. "Did I find anything?" John B. repeated giddily, discarding of the heavy scuba gear so quickly and energetically that his body cast dancing, growing shadows across the bare stretch of the boat. Willa found herself smiling at the boy as she watched him in a silent awe; for even as the sun began to set around them, John B.'s spiritual light made it seem as if the sun was only just starting to rise, as if a new beginning was on the horizon for them all. And, perhaps, maybe it was.

JJ Maybank was the first to notice that a soaking wet, black duffel bag had been set aside by John B. amongst the idle, unused tanks and the sun-kissed blonde boy's lightning bright eyes flashed excitedly as he practically dove on top of the bag. "That's my boy!" He cheered.

"Holy shit!" Pope cooed in delight as he dropped down beside JJ and pulled the large, floppy bag partially into his own lap, just as eager to discover the contents inside.

"What's in it?" Willa wondered softly, rising back to her feet from where she had previously still been kneeling at the stern. She carefully stepped around JJ and Pope, and instead spoke to John B. as she lowered herself down onto the ledge on the opposite side of the boat, biding her time as she watched the two boys curiously from afar. After all, Willa knew better than to crowd them. She still knew her place in this situation. She could not think that merely choosing to join the pogues on their marsh adventure suddenly gave her any new standings amongst their close friend group. Willa Deveraux was still just the stranger—still the least one deserving to know of whatever John B. had discovered. Not that this hurt her, necessarily, for she had had expected it, anyways. Whether she liked it or not, Willa was a kook in their eyes, and she knew better than to press the little luck that she may yet have in the fragile future.

"No idea," John B. admitted breathlessly as he sunk down into the open seat behind the wheel.

Kiara lifted a gentle hand to John B.'s shoulder, her eyes softening with concern as she looked over his dripping and heaving upper body. "You okay?" She questioned.

"Yeah," John B. reassured warmly with a wave of his hand. "I ran out of air."

Willa scoffed at John B.'s nonchalant words. "That does not sound like something that is 'okay'," She retorted back at him, rolling her eyes with an emphasis of air quotes.

"Aw. Was someone worried about me?"

"Please. I was just worried about the police finding another dead body. Then I'd have to go to jail again."

John B.'s hickory eyes widened playfully. "Again?"

"Okay . . . maybe that part was just added dramatics," Willa huffed defensively, feeling the blood burn fiercely beneath the skin of her face as John B. laughed, seeing right through her facade. "But seriously, John B.!" She pointed a stern jeweled finger in his direction, determined to make her point even when the cheeky smile that pulled widely at the boy's wetly glossed lips had yet to fade. "You should have been more careful!" She chastised. "You could have drowned."

"Willa's right," Kiara agreed stubbornly. "You scared the shit out of me, too."

"Yeah, that wasn't fun," Pope agreed from behind the two girls. "The cops were up here, but, uh . . . we took care of them. For the most part."

"For the most part?" John B. drawled hesitantly. Now, the smile was beginning to slip from his features, the Routledge boy realizing just how gravely close he had been to getting nearly caught by the police. DCS was what he had been trying to avoid all along by diving to the bottom of the marsh on a whim. "Meaning . . .?"

"Meaning that we need to get the hell out of here before they come back," Willa Deveraux replied curtly, never missing a beat as the warning rang clear in her tone. "Which shouldn't be—"

"Guys, bogey, two o'clock."

Willa Deveraux came to an abrupt halt in her own words at the sudden urgency that immediately sounded from Kiara Carrera who now stood at the stern of the Pogue, her body facing east as she stared into the looming marshes. Kiara's hands were curled tightly into fists at her sides, her dark hair sweeping sharply around her bare shoulders as the four remaining teenagers behind her carefully rose to their feet, each of them frowning with concern.

"What?" JJ Maybank frowned in confusion as he instinctively shoved the black duffel bag beneath John B.'s former seat.

Kiara pointed timidly. "There."

Following Kiara's direction, Willa began to chew nervously on the inside of her cheek as she stared deeply into the open water of the marsh before her. Her narrowed attention quickly fell to a lone boat that drifted off in the distance and though Willa could vividly tell from the boat's structure itself that it was no ordinary police patrol, she also could not precisely pinpoint who exactly was now heading in their direction. The longer she watched them, all that Willa could seem to focus on was the ominous appearances of the two male occupants in the opposing boat, each of them dressed entirely from head-to-toe in dark clothing, their tall bodies practical silhouettes against the tiger sunset beyond them.

"Do you recognize that boat?" Pope questioned softly, his eyes squinted against the bright light overhead.

"I've never seen it," Kiara answered, her voice just as quiet.

"Willa?" Pope pressed.

Willa Deveraux glanced carefully to Pope Heyward, her light sage orbs meeting his worried midnight stare. For a moment Willa could not respond to the boy, simply frozen and awed by the fact that someone had chosen to acknowledge the information that she may be able to provide for herself without judgement beforehand. "Um," She finally murmured, inching to the stern of the boat in hopes of getting a closer look, even though the far-off boat was still nearly a mile from where the HMS Pogue currently floated idly. "No," She answered surely. "I don't recognize it."

"What are they doing out here, anyways?" Kiara questioned suspiciously. "The marsh is closed."

"I don't know," JJ replied cautiously, his electric blue stare never drifting from the newfound boat in the distance. "But let's not stick around and find out."

John B. heartily nodded in agreement as he quickly started the Pogue's engine and motioned for JJ to move back to the stern. "JJ, get the bowline," He commanded.

"One step ahead of you," The blonde insisted as he hurriedly began gathering up the idly moving rope.

As the other pogues set about securing the HMS Pogue for the ride back to the island, Willa Deveraux remained in her place on the boat's ledge, both to stay out of their way and to also keep a lookout. As she sat there, her narrowed sage eyes never left the unfamiliar boat that resided across the stretch of open murky water, and she could hear the distant roar of its engine purring loudly despite the rippling of waves around them, the sound seemingly growing louder and louder as the seconds passed. Willa's stomach tightened nervously as she watched boat continue to swiftly push its way through the marsh, still very much heading right in their direction. "Guys, I think they're speeding up," Willa murmured cautiously, finally daring to break her gaze from the looming strangers and back to the teenagers around her. Not even one of the pogues was particularly thrilled by Willa's statement, but they could not argue with her. For as clearly as they could see the setting sun above them, they could also see the approaching boat moving faster and faster, now attempting to corner them above the hidden shipwreck.

"Should we wait on them?" Pope questioned nervously.

"No, we're not going to wait on them!" John B. growled protectively.

"Are you joking, Pope?" Kiara retorted, smacking his arm. "JJ, hurry up!"

Willa swallowed stiffly as she rose to her feet and went to stand beside Kiara, both girls now acting as lookouts and as barriers to conceal what had been recollected from the bottom of the marsh. Were they looking for the shipwreck, too? Either way, Willa had no intentions on asking them. "They do not look friendly," She murmured, so desperately quiet, as if the approaching boatmen could hear her already.

"Guys, don't wait for me," JJ assured, carefully balanced on the edge of the Pogue as he finished securing the bowline. "Go!"

That was enough answer for Kiara as she hastily whipped back around to where John B. and Pope were gathered by the wheel. "Let's go!" She commanded urgently.

"I don't like this," Pope moaned.

"Are they coming for us?" JJ wondered tightly, stepping off the ledge and down onto Willa's other side, sending the boat rocking uneasily below their bare feet. His burning blue stare was focused over Willa's shoulder, watching as the boat steadily grew closer to them all.

"Why would they be?" Willa questioned him nervously, biting on her chipped thumbnail as she followed his gaze. "We've done nothing wrong. Right?"

"Maybe they're just fishing," Pope attempted to supply. "Or maybe—"

"Just go already!" Kiara interjected harshly. "Go into the marsh! Hurry!"

"I'm going!" John B. hissed, clearly not needing to be told twice as he hastily turned the boat and began guiding it deeper into the water. Whether he realized it or not, he was also driving them farther from where they had originally come from. "Act natural . . . Act natural."

The frown on Willa's worried expression deepened and she exhaled a breath she had been holding far too long as her head snapped aggressively back to John B. "If someone tells me to act fucking natural one more time today, I swear to God that those guys behind us will be the least of all your problems!"

"That is not acting natural, Willa!" John B. barked back.

"I think we are beyond the point of acting natural!" JJ snapped.

The HMS Pogue's engine revved deeply, seemingly crying in protest at the newfound force being pressed upon its normally idle system, as John B. guided the small boat further into the marsh. Willa, Kiara, JJ, and Pope were now all gathered around John B., each of them attempting to secure a hold onto the steel bar that stuck out from the boat's centerpiece, ensuring they all maintained their balance as John B.'s navigating became sloppier in his urgency to get their boat as far away from the other boat that was—to their absolute horror—still following them.

"Guys, they're following us!" Kiara cried worriedly.

Pope carefully glanced over his shoulder and swallowed tightly at the looming threat behind them. "This can't be good."

"What do we do?" Willa demanded nervously.

"You got to go faster, John B.!" JJ shouted. "Gun it!"

"I'm going!"

The HMS Pogue continued steadfast into the marsh, John B. weaving dangerously around tight curves and narrow straits of water as their pursuers chased closely after them. With one jeweled hand wrapped tightly around the balance bar, Willa carefully shifted her body weight with each turn, occasionally leaning back against the bodies of JJ, Kiara, and Pope alike as they all struggled to keep from collapsing with John B.'s hazardous, unexpected movements. The faster the boat moved, the louder the Pogue engine's scream of protest became, and the waves forming around them threatened to send the boat sailing into uncertain territory. Marsh water sprayed lightly on Willa's face, seeping into her unruly hair and sweaty skin, and she swallowed stiffly, her mind trapped in the means of processing their attack.

Trapped between a rock and a hard place, Willa was unsure which was smarter to do; to keep her eyes facing forward—to keep her attention towards the goal ahead that guaranteed safety, or to keep her eyes peeled to the stalkers behind her—to the danger that lurked less than 20 yards away, and was steadily decreasing in distance. Neither option seemed entirely preferable, but maybe it was the nerves within her—or maybe it was the hope that this was all just a dream that forced Willa to keep looking towards the open horizon that promised her survival. After all, if she looked back, she would only be reminded of how disastrous their situation was. If she looked ahead, it could surely only get better from this very moment. Out of sight, out of mind.

And then Willa Deveraux heard a gunshot.

In an instant, she and the other teenagers—aside from John B., who still had to keep his head up to ensure that he did not steer the Pogue into a patch of soggy earth—instantly dove to the deck. Willa's bare knees the floor hard and she hurriedly covered the back of her head with her hands, seemingly convinced that the bare bones in her palms were strong enough to withstand the strength and fury of a speeding bullet. "Holy shit!" Willa screamed, the breath truly and completely tore from her lungs.

Willa, JJ, Kiara, and Pope were now an entire catastrophic mess of unmovable limbs as they all crouched seemingly on top of one another, doing their best to avoid the gunfire that continued to rain down on their heads. Boom. Boom. Boom. One after another, each shot sounded in the quiet of the otherwise tranquil marsh and Willa clenched her eyes shut, hoping that she did not lose her stomach for what felt like the millionth time that day.

"We're going to die!" Pope shouted, flinching painfully as another gunshot echoed above their heads.

JJ Maybank was the first to dare lifting his head as he carefully put a warm, strong hand to the back of John B.'s neck, trying to force his best friend to find cover. "John B., get down!" He pleaded.

John B. barely budged, only dipping his head the slightest as he struggled to keep sight of the narrow straits. Behind them another gunshot echoed, and Willa leaped in her own skin, curling her fingers tightly into her hair, as if it were the only grip she currently had on her own sanity. "We have to lose them!" She yelped.

"I've got an idea!" Kiara abruptly decided, carefully lifting her head. "Pope, move!"

Pope Heyward instantly did as instructed, practically rolling on top of Willa in the process as he allowed the Carrera girl to gather whatever it was that she needed. In the end, Kiara only managed to grab a fishing net, but the confidence within her burning auburn eyes that gleamed victoriously as she stared down at the green mesh made it seem like she was holding a live grenade instead.

Suddenly, another gunshot ricocheted off the metal bar that the four teenagers had once all been holding onto, and Kiara instinctively ducked to the side, but remained standing, nonetheless. "Get down, Kie!" John B. ordered sternly.

"I've got this!" Kiara Carrera shot back, matter-of-fact. She was staring Death in the eye and she would not be the one to blink first.

Of course, a lone sixteen-year-old girl with a fishing net against two grown men with guns was not a fair fight to Willa in the slightest, and she refused to watch this horrific plan to its very doomed ending. "Kiara, no!" She pleaded.

Before Willa Deveaux was even aware of what she was doing, she found that she was suddenly rising to her own bare feet in the hopes of preventing her old childhood friend from doing anything she could devastatingly pay for in the future. With her knees trembling and her arms wrapped tightly around the steel bar above the wheel, Willa's eyes went beyond Kiara and towards the south of the stormy marsh. In the very-close distance, she could see the raging assailant boat with its two armed occupants, and in the light of the dying sun, Willa could see the familiar dark shape of a long rifle in one of their arms. Its scope was locked entirely on her unmoving body, the girl frozen in a storm of smoking bullets and broken waves.

But in that moment Willa could not care about the gun pointed at her head. She could not care that this moment may be her last when she knew that it could just as easily be Kiara's, or John B.'s, or Pope's or JJ's, and they were not treating it as such. Besides, if Willa could save any of the pogues from the same fate she currently faced, then, perhaps, a bullet was worth it.

Unfortunately, Kiara seemed to sense Willa's careless intentions before she could act upon them, and she hastily dodged the Deveraux's reaching arms as she quickly navigated towards the stern of the Pogue with the large pile of green mesh. "Kiara!" Willa yelped.

Before Willa could take another step closer to the defiant, storm born girl, she felt a harsh hand on the back of her maroon flannel yanking her back down to the bottom of the boat. In an instant, Willa Deveraux was falling back against JJ Maybank with a loud thud, his body softening her otherwise very painful and unsuspecting fall. The hot-headed, undeniably protective blonde did not say a single word to Willa as he instantly weaved around her thin body—one of his arms all the while still trapped beneath her—as he attempted reached for Kiara next, but she was just beyond his grasp. JJ could not protect her, and that agony tore dangerously in his chest as his hold instinctively tightened around Willa in his own aggression. "Kie!" He shouted.

Kiara Carrera did not listen to a single one of her frantically screaming friends as she boldly and defiantly threw the fishing net far into the water behind the Pogue. Only a second later the pursuing boat was falling into the cruel manmade trap, the two assailants now suddenly left floundering in the marsh with a tangled propeller and dead engine.

"They're caught!" Pope exclaimed. "Go, John B.! Go! Go!"

With a final lasting gunshot that snapped loudly above their heads, John B. hastily turned the Pogue in a newfound direction and immediately started back for the far shore that would lead them far away from their attackers. In the tense silence that followed, Willa dared to glance over her shoulder once more as she climbed shakily back to her feet and looked towards the deadened boat in the water. In the far distance she could hear the two men screaming after them, but in only a matter of minutes the threatening boat was no more, and Willa exhaled a trembling sigh of relief, struggling to calm her pounding heart.

Did that really just happen to her?

"Yes!" Kiara cried, ripping Willa from her dazed thoughts. "Whoo!"

"Oh, my God!" John B. gushed, his jaw slack with disbelief. Beside him, Pope Heyward's eyes were still locked towards the southeast, as if not yet able to believe they were truly safe now. But they were. They were safe, and it was all only thanks to the survivalist genius, Kiara Carrera.

Finally feeling safe enough to let her burning, bloodshot eyes fall away from the disturbed and choppy water, Willa looked back to the centerpiece of the Pogue and her frazzled attention soon fell to none other than JJ Maybank who had yet to get up from the boat's dirty floor. Without any harsh remark at all, she offered a hesitant trembling hand out to the silent boy. For a moment, JJ only stared at her open palm, his blue eyes icy and unsure, his own heart a pounding mess as he tried to make sense of his entirely violent surroundings.

It was a long moment before JJ finally grabbed her hand and squeezed tightly, allowing the small girl to pull him back to his feet. When they were properly face-to-face, staring eye-to-eye, Willa swallowed tightly as she looked thankfully upwards to JJ. "Thanks," she murmured quietly to the blonde boy. Because without him, she would likely be on the floor of the Pogue with a bullet in her head, and that was a grizzly image she could do greatly without in her nightmares.

JJ merely shrugged, but the familiar firecracker smirk was already returning to his once cold, placid features, the flaming spirit within the boy burning away the ice that had previously enclosed his heart only moments prior. "Couldn't risk the lawsuit," He insisted.

And despite the fear that still threatened to swallow her whole, Willa Deveraux laughed at JJ's comment. She laughed. For in that moment, she was alive, and she could be damn-well pleased that she was. "Oh, my God! What the hell was that!" She exclaimed in wild disbelief, her green eyes sparkling bright with a maniacal madness that only those few around her now could entirely understand and welcome completely. As Willa's laughter rapidly stretched to every member on board, the Deveraux girl turned to Kiara with a gleeful smile. "Talk about a mean catch and release!" She cried.

"I know! Kiara Carrera chirped back, a hand on her exposed stomach, her side aching from her own laughing spell. "That was insane!"

"Thank God for you, Kie," John B. Routledge praised warmly with a breathless chuckle.

"Guys, we just got shot at!" Pope Heyward yelped, his dark eyes practically boggling out of his head. Willa could only continue to laugh as she watched him haphazardly bounce around the boat, his world reeling as wildly out of control as the prior deadly shots above their heads had been. How could someone sound so excited and terrified at the same time?

As the five teenagers lost themselves in their own excited joy and horrendously rebellious behavior once more, JJ Mayank abruptly let out another loud, excited shout. The blonde boy jumped to the bow of the boat and cupped his hands around his mouth as his voice echoed proudly in the wind of the never-ending marsh. "Pogue life, man!"

Willa Deveraux merely shook her head in playful disbelief as she raked her jeweled fingers through her knotted locks once more, this time choosing to remain standing near the centerpiece of the helm. If she sat down, she was unsure her legs would be able to support her again. "Pogue life," Willa murmured to herself, so quietly that not a single excited body on the body dared accidentally overhearing her. "Pogue life . . ."

➸➸➸

SO HOOKED ON ADRENALINE, John B. forgot to drop Willa off near the Figure Eight docks and had instead instinctively brought the entire group back into the heart of the Cut, deep within the promised safety of the forgotten Chateau. Not that Willa was necessarily complaining about that decision. In fact, home was the last place that Willa Deveraux wanted to be right now. For Willa, beachfront mansion was not any safer than the open water that now reeked of gun smoke; at least here—surrounded in the company of John B., Pope, Kiara and JJ—she had someone she could to talk to about her harrowing experience.

By the time their five trembling bodies had stepped back onto the solid planks of the Routledge's own private jetty, twilight was beginning to set in, rising up from the darkness of the blackening horizon. Over their buzzing heads the sky was no longer its own raging wildfire, but now rather a soft mixture of periwinkle blues, heather purples, and blushing pinks. Peaceful and calming colors to soothe the otherwise frantic and terrified minds of five teenagers who had just survived a shootout in the marshes of the Outer Banks.

"Oh, God," Kiara sighed in relief, the first to speak for several long minutes. "Home, sweet home."

"This has been the longest day of my life," Willa huffed, her feet dragging tiredly as she made her way back up the jetty.

The five teenagers soon gathered underneath a metal, jagged awning that had been awkwardly place about halfway up the stretch of the L-shaped jetty, and John B. hastily dumped the desirable, dried black duffel bag onto the wooden planks at all of their bare, sandy feet. Dropping eagerly to his knees beside the bag, John B. quickly undid the zipper as Willa, Kiara, Pope and JJ all hovered above him, each of their variously-colored skeptical eyes widened with excitement, curious to see what nearly dying for had ultimately cost them.

"What do you think it is?" Kiara questioned.

"It's got to be money or something, right?" John B. insisted, his hands still trembling from their encounter in the marsh.

"Definitely something," Willa assured, crossing her arms loosely over her chest as she watched John B. shift the bag further onto his lap. "Or else I'm going to be very pissed."

JJ pursed his lips and placed his hands lowly on his hips. "If it ain't money then it's got to at least have a couple of keys with street value to the low-to-mid-mils!" He exclaimed.

"Can we please just open the bag?!" Pope cried out, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with nervous adrenaline that had yet to completely subside from his already dangerously, naturally energetic system.

"Wow, Pope," John B. snickered, eyeing his friend up-and-down coyly. "That's a rare outburst of emotion from you."

"You guys are literally killing me with anticipation," Pope urged, raising his hands exasperatedly. "We almost died over this. Open the bag!"

Despite herself, Willa Deveraux could not help but smirk at Pope's lunatic behavior as she leaned in closer above John B. Routledge's knelt body, trying to peer through the curtains of his wild, brunette waves that stuck out in all directions from his sweaty head. The boy hurriedly and eagerly tore through the duffel bag, digging deep into the corners to retrieve a small and narrow silver canister. The canister clanged loudly as John B. unwound the top and poured the contents inside into his openly waiting hand. The pogues were about to become a million dollars richer. This could not all be for nothing.

But only a mere moment later, there was no money nor keys to fill the voids of the teenagers' endless million-dollar imaginations. Instead, a single golden compass with an intricately woven, flowery metallic design was now resting solely in John B.'s calloused hand.

Given the dull shine off the poor golden paint, Willa intuitively knew the compass was of little truth worth, but Pope was the first to actually voice his distaste. "Oh, wow," The Heyward boy drawled, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Yup. That's about right. Good job, everybody. We found a compass."

"A golden compass," Willa insisted, trying to ease the blow of reality.

"That's not worth anything," JJ Mayank snipped across at her, shaking his head in disbelief.

Kiara Carrera pursed her lips and frowned. "We went through all that for nothing?" She questioned dryly.

"It wasn't for nothing," John B. insisted sternly.

The boy's dark eyes were still locked closely on the small compass, his fingers shifting carefully over the tiny object as the corner of his lip began to pull upwards just the slightest. From the angle that she currently stood, Willa was certain that she was the only one who could see John B.'s unique reaction for what it is, but she could not let it slip past so carelessly unnoticed. With bated breath, Willa dropped down beside John B. on the rough, peeling wood of the jetty and let her eyes drift from his face and down to the compass. "John B., what is it?" She wondered softly.

Unbeknownst to any of the teenagers, such a simple question should have only existed to be met with a simple answer. But as John B. finally tore his hickory gaze away from the golden compass and looked up to each one of his friends and smiled—that same damned smile from the marsh—as if the beginning truly was just unfolding, the simplicity of life itself was cruelly stripped away from Willa forever. The long, bright future beyond the Outer Banks that had once been written so surely before her—as surely as the promised words in her safe-kept letters—became dangerously unknown.

For Willa Deveraux, her future was unwritten the moment John B. Routledge answered her question with, "This was my father's."

And if only then, standing on that ill-fated dock in the middle of the isolated Cut, had Willa known how greatly today would cost her in the end, how profoundly different her future could have been.

~~~~~~~~~~

this, everyone, is the moment that willa's happiness dies.

but on a brighter note, it is also where her life truly starts. and maybe along the way willa will find her happiness again.

ugh, this chapter killed me. i hate writing action scenes, especially shooting scenes. i never feel as if its intense enough, but if you enjoyed this chapter, i'm really glad?? like, i know it probably wasn't the best, but i really tried my best. but!! i finally am finished with the first episode!! yeehaw!! and it only took me nine chapters??! goddamn this book is going to be so huge by the time we finish season one, please pray for me...

and as always, i hope you're all enjoying this lovely story. it warms my heart to see all the comments and love that keep pouring in. y'all are seriously making my day, all day, every day. i hope you all love willa deveraux as much as i do, and we're only just getting started. this girl has a whirlwind of pain she's gonna have to work through...

so, if there's anything you'd like to see specifically focused on with willa, please let me know in the comments! what do you want to know more about her?! tell me what you want!! leave some votes and comments because your girl would really appreciate it! and thank you all so much for reading! and i hope y'all are having a lovely day or night. stay safe and stay well.

—B.