The sight of Milo, half-covered by silk sheets as he dozes off is something Bryn now realizes she had missed. 

She reflects on this realization for a moment as she brings a cigarette to her lips. Once she's sure he's beyond consciousness she lays her cigarette on the ashtray, plucks her blouse off the ground and while putting it on walks over to the dresser where Milo left his phone an hour ago. 

From there she handles quickly, scanning his contact list until she spots 'ghost'. Feeling thrown for a moment, she stares at the name. What would you call someone who, as far as the world knows, is dead? 

Before glancing back to check if Milo is still in deep slumber, she goes to work construction a text message. She figures short and to the point would be best.

Can we meet? It's important.

She puts the phone on mute, keeps a close eye on the sleeping figure she left behind in the bed, and waits. 

It doesn't take long. 

The response is simply an address and a time. Once Bryn has grabbed her own phone, copied and sent the address and the phone number to Riley, deleted the messages from Milo's phone and returned it to the dresser, her mission is complete. 

After slipping into her skirt and soundlessly retrieving her coat and bag from the chair in the corner, she gazes at the bed once more. 

No matter how much she misses this view, how much she wants to stay, she still makes herself walk out the door. Nothing's changed, she decides. She still can't be with him.

∾

'I used to love winter.' While lying on the forest green sofa, being hugged by a mohair woolen blanket, Riley stares at the snow falling on the large skylight above her. 

Sofia is lounging on the charcoal gray wing chair, playing with her tablet. 'Yeah well, nothing like murder to put a damper on the Christmas spirit.' She notes. 

'And snow is quickly ruined when you find a body in it.' Riley adds. 

In this rare calm moment she's attempting to clear her mind and organize her thoughts. But instead she's haunted by images of the last few days. The two dead bodies, her sister stuck in Norwell, Aaron on drugs... 

The last image sticks, making Riley consider how she could casually bring it up in conversation.

'So... you guys really went wild at The Neon Wolf, huh?'

'You mean the drugs? I saw the look on your face. I'm guessing they didn't all do that two years ago?' Sofia concludes.

'Just Milo, but he was smoking weed, not snorting...'

'Speed, they were doing speed. As I recall the upgrade in narcotics came pretty quickly after I started at Penburg. Most of us just do it occasionally, though. For fun. It's just Milo and Aaron who got hooked.'

Riley thinks back to the last year she spent with Carrie, Bryn, Aaron and Milo before she left for College. They were already in their first year at Penburg, growing up a little faster than she was, but they hardly ever talked about partying or doing drugs. She saw them all the time back then. It must have started after, when Sofia and Alice, who are Riley's age, came to Penburg.

'Riley?'

'Yeah?'

'Do you think Milo's brother is really behind this?'

'It sure looks that way.'

'What are we going to do when we meet him and he turns out to be the killer?'

'Run? Call the cops? I don't really know...'

'Meanwhile the whole city is being hurled into a panic.'

'What?' Riley sits upright as she looks at Sofia.

'Yeah, haven't you seen the news?'

As Riley shakes her head Sofia reaches for the remote and turns on the large flat-screen on the wall. Promptly a newscaster appears.

'With the second victim discovered two days ago the entire city is in the grip of the One Shot Killer, a dangerous criminal who drugs his victims to the point of overdosing. The chief of police has yet to release an official statement but is certain they will soon capture this terrifying villain.'

Puzzled by the press' interpretation, Riley turns to Sofia. 'The One Shot Killer?'

'Yeah, that's what they're calling him. Sort of catchy, I suppose.'

'They're referring to the injections.'

'Yeah, I figured that too.'

'How would they even know about that?'

'There are so many dirty cops out there, they'll tell the press anything for a quick buck.'

Maddened by the way the media exposes these tragedies to create a hype, Riley turns off the TV. But instead of turning black the screen displays static while white noise starts buzzing through the room. 

'Do you even know how a TV works?' Sofia laughs as she snags the remote from Riley's hand. But pressing the buttons proves ineffective. 'I think you broke something...' 

As she stands up to turn the flat-screen off manually she's halted by the sudden quiet as the white noise disappears. For a moment the screen lingers on white, but then words begin to appear. At the sense of déjà vu Riley springs from the couch. 

'What the hell...' Sofia utters.

LAST WARNING. STOP LOOKING, OR YOUR FRIENDS WILL DIE.

The tiny black feather below the message tips Riley off, it's the same one as before. As despair takes hold she sinks back into the couch. 

'Ri, you don't look surprised...' After ripping the power cord from the TV Sofia returns to her seat, clearly looking distressed. 'I don't know about you, but death threats are a new experience for me.' 

The last remaining strength to go on is being quickly sucked out of Riley, leaving her depressed and lost. But most of all floored by all the questions she can't seem to find answers to. Why is this happening? What is it that pushed someone to resort to murder?

'This happened before, two days ago, after Ivy Ross was killed.' Riley confesses.

'And you didn't think to tell us?!'

'I was afraid you would try to convince me to stop.'

'Look, I don't want to give up either. But you can't blame me for being a little freaked out about this.'

'I know, I'm sorry...'

'Don't be sorry, you're not the one threatening us. But the fact that the killer is means we're getting close to the truth, and he knows it.'

Riley hadn't made that conclusion yet, making her now wonder if the killer could actually be afraid of getting caught. So far his actions struck her as arrogant, far from intimidated. But perhaps she's wrong about that. 

As they both lean back in their seats to continue staring at the snow, she tries to figure out what she'll do when she finally comes face to face with Mr. One Shot. What can she do to stay alive? How can she keep her friends alive? 

At the same time Sofia considers telling Riley what's on her mind. The things she's hiding, things she's been desperately wanting to tell someone for so long now. She has a good feeling about Riley, maybe she could finally come clean? But once again fear of judgment stops her.

An hour later Riley is awoken by her phone buzzing in her pocket. As she slowly opens her eyes she glances at the screen and sees Bryn's message. Rising from the couch in one swift movement, she reads the time and place she received. The meeting is in one hour. 

Sofia is still soundly sleeping, awkwardly sprawled across the wing chair. This is her chance, Riley realizes. 

While sneaking away she apologizes to Sofia in her head. She knows the risk, but she can't put Sofia in danger. 

This is her fight.

∾

Forty minutes later Riley is quietly cursing at herself as she beholds the sinister looking old dive bar in front of her. Pulling her collar up to her chin she tries to protect herself from the cold December air blowing across the ice covered docks. The men standing outside the bar look like they all just escaped prison together. She finds herself wishing she had mace in her bag, or a gun. She should have accepted that bodyguard her mother wanted to hire. But there's no turning back now. 

As she pushes herself towards the crumbling building she can hear the rock music blast through the old wooden doors. As soon as she steps inside every eye in the bar is on her. She hasn't felt this out of place since Aiden, a friend from college, took her to a metal concert. 

As she nears the bar she tries to spot a safe-looking seat from which to survey the exit. But as she observes the bikers, drug addicts and devil worshipers all around her she gives up and drops onto the nearest barstool. 

'You lost, little girl?' The bartender asks as he appears to be sizing her up. 

'Not at all.' 

'Can I pour you a drink?' He offers. 

'I'm only 20, so that would be illegal...'

The bartender grins, revealing his yellow, smoke-stained teeth. 'No one here cares, darlin'.' 

Anxiously she fidgets with her phone as she considers her next move. 'Just... water, please. I'm driving.'

For the next thirty minutes she stares restlessly at the door. Every time someone comes in her heart stops, but so far no one looks like he could be Milo's brother. She's been trying to remember Grayson, what he looked like back when he was still 'alive', but the last time she saw him she was twelve. It's all a little hazy. 

The more time passes the more she begins to feel uneasy, like every creepy, perverted guy in this place is leering at her. After nearly two hours have passed the bartender leans across the counter to once again reveal his sleazy smile through his untrimmed beard. 'Looks like someone stood you up, darlin'.' 

Despite resenting him for it, she has to agree. Time to get the hell out of dodge, she decides. She drops a five dollar bill on the counter and vacates the barstool. As she exits she hears a few 'so long, darlin's' and some whistling behind her. 

She thanks God once she reaches her car, finally feeling a small sense of relief. Figures this would amount to nothing, she concludes. But as she's about the open the car door she suddenly feels two strong arms grab her. 

A piece of cloth is pushed against her mouth before she can even think to scream. Trying to pull loose quickly proves useless, no matter how hard she tries. Her limbs grow numb and soon sounds begin to fade away, and then her heavy eyelids drop. Right before she loses consciousness, she remembers all the warnings she received this past week. 

They were right, this pursuit is going to get her killed.

∾

The sensation that her eyes are about to pop out of her head is the first thing to wake her. The stinging and throbbing of headache become apparent. Soon after comes the awareness of blinding lights burning on her eyelids. And then the friction as she tries to move slightly, ropes cutting into her wrists and ankles. 

It takes a few minutes to gather the physical strength to open her eyes, in those minutes she establishes that she's lying down. There's a pillow under her head, her hands graze a soft surface as they lie tied behind her back. A couch. She remembers the strong arms around her body, the piece of sweet smelling cloth. She's been kidnapped, she concludes, just like Carrie. Right before she opens her eyes she prays that she won't lose her memories, that they won't be taken away like her sister's. 

A hardwood floor, a big brown leather chesterfield couch, a wooden coffee table and a record player are the first things she sees. Then the large window behind the couch. It's still dark outside, how long has she been out? A sound coming from close by suddenly pulls her out of the fog. Further down the large room, behind the couch, she spots an open kitchen. And there, standing behind the counter, her kidnapper. 

Her eyes, now adjusted to the light, open wide as she breathlessly stares at him. He looks bigger, stronger, older, but there's no doubt in her mind. 

It's Grayson Chandler. 

She slowly, carefully, inhales and exhales before attempting to push herself into an upward position. It proves difficult, with her arms tied behind her back, but she manages as quietly as possible. 

Forcing herself to stay calm her eyes move around the room, desperately trying to find a way out. Then he looks at her, while grabbing a bottle and two glasses, and exits the kitchen in her direction. Frozen in place she watches him sit down on the chesterfield couch opposite of her, placing the bottle and two glasses on the wooden coffee table. 

His deep, dark brown eyes gaze straight into hers as the corners of his mouth curl upwards. 

'Hello, Riley.'