𝐂 𝐇 𝐀 𝐏 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑    𝐅 𝐎 𝐔 𝐑
ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ʀɪʙs & ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ

     SHILOH SWATTED her brother upside his head, heavily disapproving of the way his eyes lingered on Sam before she changed into some clothes. He jumped, looking to her with wide-eyes; she glared at him, pointing a finger in his face in a silent threat not to try anything on their blonde friend.

     "What the hell was that for?" He whisper-shouted.

     The shorter brunette scoffed, crossing her arms as she grabbed his machete from his side. "For someone whose girlfriend apparently just died, you sure do have some wandering eyes."

     The 19 year old frowned, raising his hands in mock surrender. "A guy can't dream?"

     "Not when that guy has made his way through half the girls in the group," she retorted, pushing his shoulder lightly as Sam rejoined them.

     "Okay. Done." The blonde sighed, throwing her bag over her shoulder. "Let's put this thing to bed."

     "Amen to that." The older twin muttered, before the three of them made their way back to the lodge.

     Shiloh's mind was on fire—had her brother encountered whatever it was that had chased her and the twins? Josh couldn't have done anything to the prissy blonde, he'd been at the lodge all night. They wanted to scare the group—not actually kill anyone.

     If they'd wanted to kill someone, the sawblade wouldn't have been rigged.

     "Please!" A muffled voice screamed, "I can't! I can't decide!"

     "What the fuck is that?" Shiloh muttered, fully recognizing the voice as Chris'.

     "Is that crying?" Her brother asked soon after, the three of them following the voice and coming upon another locked door.

     The small brunette was getting sick of these damn doors.

     Mike, Sam, and Shiloh hit the door with their combined weight, swinging the rustic metal open to reveal their friends—Chris and Ashley—tied to chairs across from each other, a table separating them.

     Footsteps echoed from the right, catching Shiloh's eye as the psycho approached. His words from earlier flickered in her mind, the brief confession making her palms sweat in his presence. He stalked toward their friends, earning yells of protest from Ashley. "No, no, no! Get away!"

     Chris aimed the gun at the man, firing blindly in hopes to save them all. Three shots fired off, the gun quickly running out of ammo, and the man stood there, unharmed. His chuckle was distorted through the voice modulator, "Oh, Chris. Oh, Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris..." He shook his head, beginning to circle around them.

     "What the fuck?"

     "You've heard of blanks before. I mean—really?" He said, moving to lift the mask.

     Shiloh pretended to be just as shocked as everyone else when Josh Washington's face was revealed before them, his triumphant smirk at how successful the prank had gone decorating his lips. "Josh?" She asked, her tone riddled with confusion as she stepped between Mike and Sam. "You—"

     He cut her off with a laugh, overpowering Sam's yell of his name as she stepped beside the younger Munroe twin. Josh began to circle the room, laughing as everyone continued to say his name; their tones were mixtures of disbelief, confusion, and irritation.

     "Oh, oh, very good!" His voice boomed, still maintaining his humorous attitude. "Every one of you got my name! And after all you've been through! Good, good, good, good. I mean, how does that feel? Right?" Shiloh stood, pretending to be frozen, as Mike and Sam helped the others out of their restraints. "How does it feel? Do you enjoy feeling terrorized? Humiliated? I mean, panicked?" His eyes locked onto Mike, "All those emotions that my sisters and Shy got to feel once, one year ago! Only—guess what? They didn't get to laugh it off! No! Nope! No, no, no! They're gone! And Shiloh's still having nightmares about it!"

     Mike Munroe sent his sister a brief glance, the guilt in his chest bubbling at the sight of her petrified form, before returning his gaze back to their friend. "I don't know if you noticed this, Josh, but none of us are laughing!"

     Just as the sentence left his lips, a quiet giggle could be heard echoing from near the doorway. Everyone turned, their widened eyes falling onto Shiloh's shaking body—only, her body wasn't shaking from fear. No, Shiloh was laughing, twirling the machete she'd stolen from her brother as she went to stand next to Josh.

     "Shy?" The older twin asked, breaking the silence that overcame the group. "Shy, what're you doing?"

     She snorted, leaning the blade against her shoulder as her eyes locked onto his. "Oh, please. You didn't think he pulled this off himself, did you?"

     Josh wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side with a smile as he spoke. "Come on! Why the long faces? It's good to get the heart racing every now and then, right? And race, they did. I mean," his eyes locked onto Sam, Chris, and Ashley, "every one of you, just pitter-pat, pitter-pat. I hope you appreciated our little phantasmagorical spectacle! I mean, no detail too small! No opportunity missed! It was such a delight to play the puppet master to all of your Pavlovian panic!"

     Shiloh analyzed their faces as her friend continued from beside her, trying to ignore the burning sensation that his hand on her waist brought upon her. She knew they wouldn't find it funny, at least not right away, but something flickered in her brother's eyes—something malicious—as he looked upon the eldest Washington.

     Betrayal pooled from the eyes of the others, constantly flickering between herself and the man beside her; she knew they'd be infuriated, but she wondered if they were able to better understand what they'd done to her and the twins the year prior.

     "And all that gore? I mean, gore, there was gore galore!" Josh laughed, "Fake bodies... I mean... God, that shit was expensive! And no retakes! Nope, nope, nope! Only double takes!"

     "You should've seen your faces," Shiloh chuckled from beside him, adding on to his victorious ranting. "It was gold!"

     "Guys... why're you doing this?" Sam asked, brows knitted in confusion and hurt as the question tumbled from her lips.

     Mike decided to answer before they could, "Don't even ask this squirrely little runt! He's got no clue, he's out of his fucking tree." His eyes locked onto his sister, "Why're you doing this?"

     The brunette stepped from her friend's hold, twirling the machete again as she approached the table. Chris stepped back, as did Ashley, as Shiloh leant over the table to get closer to her brother. A sickening smirk resided on her face, one he'd never seen before—her tone was cold, remorseless, deadly. "Funny. You couldn't answer that, either."

     Her words sent him back to their argument, before this night had become his own personal hell. She'd asked him why he hadn't stopped the prank, why he'd allowed Hannah to get hurt—why he'd allowed her to get hurt. He couldn't answer then, still couldn't now. He suddenly knew why she'd partaken in Josh's sick and twisted game, why she'd apparently killed Jessica.

     "Well, Josh is definitely off his meds." Chris muttered, eyes locked onto his best friend—the one he thought he'd killed. The one whose pig's blood had stained his hands the entire night.

     She felt a pit of guilt puddle within her. How'd she not noticed that? After a year of consoling him, of late movie nights to keep their minds off of what had happened, of setting this whole charade up—how'd she not notice that he'd stopped taking his meds?

     Shiloh, maintaining her smirk, sauntered back over to Josh, leaning into him with her eyes remaining locked onto her brother. "Aw, come on, you guys."

     "Revenge is the best medicine!"

     "You're done!" Mike snapped.

     Chris looked over to the male Munroe, "Mike, he's sick—"

     Josh let go of Shiloh, approaching their friends. "What? Come on, you guys are all gonna thank me when you guys become internet sensations!"

     "Wait, what?"

     The blue eyed man nodded, not feeling Shiloh's analytic gaze on his back. "Oh, you better believe this little puppy is going viral ladies and germs. I mean we got two cases of unrequited love. We got—we got blood! I don't think there's enough hard drives in China to count all the views we're gonna get, you guys."

     Shiloh furrowed her brows at that. Two cases of unrequited love? Seriously? After everything, he still thinks she was just acting? She shook her head, clearing her throat. "Correction, one case of unrequited love."

     He widened his eyes in realization, the puzzle piece finally locking into place, before Mike's voice echoed through the room. Louder, this time—angry. "What're you talking about you ass-hat? Jessica is fucking dead!"

     "What?" Josh asked, shocked at the revelation. He glanced to Shiloh, silently asking if she'd done this. "Shy, what is he—what is he talking about?"

     The brunette sighed, shrugging as she stepped forth and rejoined the conversation. "I don't know, J."

     Mike scoffed, eyes lethal as they locked onto his sister. "Oh, don't give me that shit! Jessica is fucking dead, Shiloh!" He rounded the table, "And one of you fucking killed her!"

     She yelled as he brought the butt of the gun to Josh's forehead, making the blue eyed man fall to the ground. Shiloh glared at her brother, stepping between him and their unconscious friend. "We had nothing to do with that."

     "Bullshit." He spat, "You really think I'm gonna believe that after you came at her earlier?"

     The brunette pushed him lightly, machete held tightly in her hand. "I came at her? Are you fucking serious? She started it!"

     "What are we, five?" He yelled, stepping forward once again. "You killed her... didn't you?"

     "As much as I would have liked to, no! I didn't!" She snapped, "And neither did Josh."

     "Whatever."

     Before she could reply, the butt of the gun was brought to her ribs with enough force to knock her down. She cried out, the bones still fragile after the previous years events; her breathing grew ragged, labored, as her vision blurred and she lost her grip on the machete.

     The last thing she'd seen was Mike's look of resentment.

❆

     Shiloh and Josh fought against their restraints, resisting their friends as they tried pushing them to the shed. "We didn't fucking do it, Mike!"

     Her brother refused to listen—tunnel vision overtaking him as the sight of Jessica being dragged from the cabin flickered through his mind. He continued to push them, glaring when Shiloh threw her dead weight onto the snow beneath them; he looked to the blond beside him, motioning for him to pick her up while he dealt with Josh.

     She smirked at Chris when she got to her feet, spitting blood at her brother as the blond held her up. "Got you pretty good, huh, Chris? The whole brokenhearted crush act was S tier, right?"

     "Shut up, Shiloh."

     "Awe," she pretended to pout. "Embarrassed? Sad you got humiliated in front of Ashley's selfish ass?"

     "Shut the fuck up, Shiloh!" Mike's voice echoed through the snow, earning an eyeroll from his sister as she spit more blood at him. "Would you quit that?"

     "Would you let me go?"

     "No."

     She smirked, "There's your answer, bro."

     Chris released her, moving to confront Josh alongside her brother. Shiloh took this opportunity, winking at Josh, before sprinting off into the woods as the blond punched him in the face. Her wrists were bound, and her ribs were burning, but she kept pushing to the lodge—she was going to get them out of this.

     She crept up to the lodge, sneaking in through the basement window Chris and Josh had left open when they'd arrived. As stealthily as possible, she snuck inside, and scoured around the room in search for something—anything—that could cut these ties.

     Her obsidian gaze landed on a pair of scissors, ones that resembled those Ashley had stabbed Josh with at some point in the night. With a smile, she turned around and grabbed them from the shelf; cutting her restraints was difficult, seeing as she was doing it blind, but she released a silent laugh when they fell from her wrists.

     Pulling her arms in front of her, she noticed a small cut on her forearm from the blades. She shrugged it off, creeping toward the staircase that lead to the main building. Muffled voices could be heard, Emily's in particular, explaining away some monster she'd encountered.

     The brunette's blood ran cold, and she wasted no time in sprinting back to the window, tucking the scissors into her waistband. She saw a man approaching the lodge in the distance, a flamethrower slung across his torso; shaking her head, she'd whispered to herself. "Josh, then the others."

     With a deep breath, one that burned beneath the adrenaline in her veins, she sprinted back to the shed. Chris and Mike had left him there, completely unaware of the horror she'd faced the year prior.

     Panting, she weaved through the trees, entering the shed at a rushed pace. Josh widened his eyes, smiling brightly at her as she rounded the support beam and cut him loose. "You came back."

     Shiloh chuckled breathlessly, "Like I'd leave you behind."

     The blue eyed man pulled her into a hug, one that was tight—yet even coming down from his episode, he was still weary of her ribs. She hissed, hugging him back with just as much fervor, before gripping her side.

     Josh looked at her, concern pooling in his eyes as he glanced to her side. "W-What's wrong?"

     "My lovely brother decided to hit me in the ribs with that fucking gun," she dryly laughed, wincing as she did so. "I'll be fine. We just—we need to get out of here. All of us."

     "But—"

     "Do you trust me, Josh?" Shiloh's voice was soft, barely a whisper, her doe eyes shimmering with an unspoken vulnerability as they locked onto his.

     There it was again—that look he'd given her by the fire, only deeper now. She could feel it in the way he looked at her: love, adoration, and a trust that went beyond words. For a moment, everything else fell away—the prank, the pain, the others—all of it vanished from his mind. All that remained was her. "Of course I do."

     She started to run, her hand tugging his, but he had other plans. With a playful glint in his eyes, he pulled her back, his lips curving into a mischievous grin. "Josh, what are you—"

     "What you said in the shed... was it true?"

     Shiloh hesitated, her eyes darting to his. "Is now really the right time for this?"

     "Yes."

     A sigh escaped her, but then, with sudden resolve, her fingers curled around the collar of his shirt, tugging him down. Their lips met, hesitant at first, like a question waiting to be answered. But then, with a slow, smoldering intensity, the kiss deepened. Her hands traveled to his neck, her fingers slipping into his hair, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around her, anchoring her against him—as if she were his only connection to reality anymore.

     Time seemed to stop as they lost themselves in each other. Her heart raced as his lips moved against hers, soft yet unyielding, communicating everything they hadn't dared to say. His hand found the curve of her waist, cautious of her ribs, drawing her closer until there was no space left between them, only the warmth of their bodies and the quiet urgency of the kiss.

     The world around them faded into nothingness, leaving just the two of them in that stolen moment. When they finally pulled back, breathless, her fingers lingered on his face, and for a second, their eyes met, reflecting the same mix of longing and promise.

     Reality crept back in, and they shared a quick smile before turning and running hand in hand, their hearts still thundering as they made their way back to the lodge. "So what's going on?"

     "Fuck, uh, okay—it wasn't a person that chased us that night." She explained, brain whirring as she tried to figure out how to word it. "It was—I don't know—some type of creature. I overheard Emily explaining that whatever the hell it was chased her."

     "Are you sure you're not crazy?" He asked, grip on her hand never faltering as they made their way up the trail. "Cause, like—there's nothing wrong with that. Y'know? On paper, I'm crazy, so—"

     "I know what I saw, J!" She interrupted, gasping as they barged through the lodge door. Their friends looked at them with wide eyes, Chris facing the duo with a shotgun in his grasp.

     He awkwardly waved the gun, "We were just about to come get you—"

     A growl echoed from the direction of the shed, one that was all too familiar to the brunette's ears, and she froze. She could tell that the others had also heard it, Josh's grip tightening as he pulled her from the door.

     "What the hell is going on?" He asked, looking around the group; his eyes fell onto a man with a flamethrower and a scarred face. "And who the hell is that?"

     "I don't know what it is." Shiloh spoke, tone cold as she stared upon the stranger. "But you do. You were there—I saw your flamethrower before I fell."

     The man nodded, "Surprised you survived." With a deep breath, he motioned for the couple to sit down. "What you dealt with last year, and what your friends've dealt with tonight, is called a Wendigo."

     Everyone who had already heard his explanation looked at the girl with wide eyes. This is what had happened to her? This is what happened to Hannah and Beth?

     Mike stared blankly at his sister, her mortified gaze quickly being overpowered by one of pure determination. It all finally settled in his mind, his anger from earlier subsiding as the thoughts ricocheted through his skull. They didn't know about the Wendigos either—at least, not entirely; Shiloh had mentioned hearing growling once, but they'd just assumed it was some type of animal. But now, he knew. The prank that Emily and Jessica had orchestrated—the prank that he could have stopped—threw them in the direction of these foul creatures.

     He'd almost lost his sister to a monster.

     He watched as the stranger handed Shiloh two small journals, eyes widening at her and Josh's reactions when they read through the first one. "What?" He asked, voice hoarse from exertion, "What is it?"

     Shiloh, struggling to keep her tears at bay, dropped the book onto the coffee table. Josh's eyes were glazed with pain, tears pricking his ducts as they held one another impossibly close.

     The stranger had explained that one becomes a Wendigo through cannibalism. So when they'd read those words—Hannah's words—they fell silent; she'd survived the fall? She got desperate, so she dug up her sister and ate her?

     He blamed himself, because Shiloh was right. He could've stopped it, he could've told the girls no—why didn't he?

     "What do we do?" He asked the man, eyes still on his sister's trembling form, glancing briefly to the man whose arms she was seeking comfort in. "How do we survive?"

❆

     They silently made their way to the basement, the stranger's journal clutched tightly in Shiloh's hand. Quickly, she made her way to a nearby table, opening the leather cover and reading the information as quickly as she possibly could.

     Josh sat on the ground beside her, his head in her lap as her fingers gently weaved through his hair. He was crying, silently—she understood. Finally learning the truth, the fate of his sisters, couldn't have been easy. Her touch brought him comfort, anchoring him to reality as the tension in the air rose.

     The others were analyzing a map of the mountain, one that the stranger had tweaked to show where the nest resided. Mike was spitting out all of these facts he'd learned during his time in the sanitorium, when a sudden voice echoed through the room.

     "Em?" Ashley drifted, catching her attention slightly. She didn't tear her eyes away from the page, but focused on the conversation that was taking place behind her. "Em, what is that? What is that?"

     "Ash—"

     "Em... oh, my God. Oh, my God!" The beanie-clad girl freaked, "Oh, my God! Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no!"

     The ravenette placed a hand onto her injured shoulder, looking between Ashley, Mike, and Sam. "It's nothing! It just—It bit me, and—"

     "It bit you? What bit you?!" Ashley yelled, panic evident in her tone.

     Shiloh rolled her eyes, looking down into Josh's steely blue irises. She pointed at the page she was on, glancing to their friends, before whispering to him. "It's not like a zombie, nothing's gonna happen to her... should we see how this plays out?"

     Josh nodded against her thigh, staring into her obsidian gaze lovingly. Her eyes swirled with a typhoon of emotions. He could almost see each and every one, making their own little wave in the darkened sea of her heart—love, mischief, stress, and pain. He placed a gentle kiss to her thigh, gaze meeting hers with a small smile. "Let 'em freak for a bit. Serves them right."

     She nodded in agreement, bringing her hand to rub soothingly against his cheek. The skin was dirty, and still wet from his tears, but his smile was prominent.

     He wondered how she'd gained the ability to bring him back—to make him feel safe.

     "The—The Wendigo." Emily said, motioning slightly to the map behind her. "It's nothing, really, it's not a big deal—"

     "You okay?" Sam asked, lowly, as Mike swore from beside her.

     The ravenette shook her head, "It doesn't hurt anymore—really. It's not that bad."

     "Em," her brother's voice rang out. "If that thing bit you—"

    "I-I know what you're thinking, and I'm fine!" She interrupted.

     "Are you?"

     "Yes!" She exclaimed, looking toward the couple at the desk. "Shy—"

     "Don't bring her into this," Mike spat. "She can't come to your defense every time."

     Shiloh rolled her eyes, listening as the situation escalated further. She and Josh had almost found it entertaining, a glimmer of performance in the dark confines of the Washington Lodge basement—until Mike held a gun up to his ex-girlfriend.

     Sam yelled in protest, while Ashley and Chris were going to just let him shoot her. Shiloh gently lifted Josh's head from her lap, white-knuckle gripping the journal as they both moved to intervene.

    Shiloh stepped in front of her brother, stare lethal as she placed her forehead against the barrel. Josh stood behind her, acting as a second wall between the Munroe boy and Emily; Mike widened his eyes at his sister, "What the fuck are you doing? She could turn into one of those things—"

     He was cutoff by the feeling of the journal being slammed against his chest, knocking him back slightly as his finger threatened to pull the trigger. "Maybe you should pay more attention, bro. She won't turn. You only turn into a Wendigo if you eat someone else—not if you get bitten or scratched." She glared at Ashley, smirk threatening as the barrel remained in her face. "It's not a fucking zombie, dumbass."

     Keeping one hand trained on his gun, Mike grabbed the journal from his sister. His eyes met Josh's, a threatening promise residing in his steely blue irises if anything were to happen to the girl between them; the man was already pissed that Mike had more than likely re-broken her rib.

     His eyes scanned the page, arm lowering as the information processed. With a deep sigh, he nodded, looking to Emily over Josh's shoulder. "She's right. Sorry, Em."

     "Sorry, my ass!" She yelled, shaking from the fact that she'd just had a gun pointed at her. She stood, pulling Shiloh into a thankful hug. "God, you're a lifesaver."

     "All of you already have blood on your hands," she said, her words cold as she pulled herself from the ravenette's hold. "No point in darkening the stains."

     Emily gulped at her words, taking a cautious step back as the information of what she and Josh had done—of why they had done it—seeped into her bones.

     As the couple moved back to the desk, the crisp sound of a slap echoed through the room. Shiloh released a laugh at the sight of Ashley holding her cheek, crying as she ran to Chris for comfort. Josh nudged her, "Little harsh, right?"

     "Oh please, they almost made me kibble last year."