Claire's POV
Sleep never came.
Claire tossed and turned, the shadows in her bedroom feeling thicker than usual, the hum of the fridge in the next room somehow louder. Her phone sat on the nightstand, that last anonymous text still glowing in her mind:
Ask him about the fire.
The words kept looping like a bad song.
She had tried to tell herself it was nothing—some prank, some mistake—but her gut said otherwise.
By dawn, she'd given up on rest entirely.
The morning air was crisp, a fine mist curling along the edges of Main Street as she made her way to the shop. Her scarf was pulled tight, her hands shoved deep into her coat pockets.
But halfway there, she stopped.
Across the street, leaning against the brick wall of Miller's Hardware, was a man in a brown leather jacket. He was pretending to smoke, but his eyes were on her.
The moment their gazes met, he pushed off the wall and disappeared around the corner.
Her heart gave a nervous kick.
By the time she reached the shop, she'd decided: she needed answers.
And there was only one person who might have them.
She waited until noon before slipping away, leaving Vanessa in charge. The ride out to the edge of town felt longer than usual, the landscape stretching endlessly—dry fields, weathered fences, the occasional crow wheeling above.
The small motel came into view, its neon VACANCY sign buzzing faintly in the daylight.
Ethan's truck was parked out front.
When he opened the door, the surprise in his eyes quickly shifted into something guarded.
"Claire. What are you doing here?"
She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. "I got a message last night. Two, actually. First one said leave him. The second said… Ask him about the fire."
He shut the door slowly, his jaw tightening. "Who sent them?"
"I don't know. But you do, don't you?"
Silence.
Claire crossed her arms. "Ethan, what fire? What aren't you telling me?"
Ethan's POV
He'd been hoping this day wouldn't come.
Hoping Madison would keep her poison tongue to herself.
Hoping Claire would never look at him the way she was looking now—half suspicious, half hurt.
"There was a fire," he said finally, the words tasting like ash. "Three years ago. In Abilene."
She waited.
"It wasn't an accident."
Her brow furrowed. "You started it?"
"No," he said, too quickly. "But I… I didn't stop it either."
He saw the way her shoulders stiffened, saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes.
"I was working for a rancher back then. Man named Curtis Holloway. He was into things he shouldn't have been—illegal land grabs, intimidation. One night, he decided to make an example of a rival. Burned down his barn. I was there when it happened."
Claire's voice was quiet. "And you didn't call for help?"
He shook his head. "I didn't. Because Holloway had something on me. Something that could've put me away for a long time."
The shame settled heavy in his chest.
Claire didn't speak for a moment. When she did, her voice was like ice. "So you stood by and let it happen. People could have died."
"They didn't," he said quickly. "But I know that doesn't make it right. And I've been paying for it every day since."
She looked at him for a long time, like she was trying to see if there was anything left to trust.
Finally, she stepped back toward the door. "You're right, Ethan. It doesn't make it right."
Claire's POV
Her boots crunched on the gravel as she walked back to her car.
She wanted to be angry—no, she was angry—but there was something else tangled up in it: fear.
Not just fear of what Ethan had done, but fear of what it meant for her.
She had let him in. She had trusted him. And now she wasn't sure if she could again.
But as she reached for her car door, she noticed something that froze her in place.
An envelope, tucked under her windshield wiper.
She pulled it free, the paper damp from the mist.
Inside was a single photo—grainy, taken from a distance.
It was her, standing outside Ethan's motel room.
Scrawled on the back in the same blocky handwriting as before:
You're next.
Ethan's POV
He watched her drive away, knowing he'd just made everything worse.
And then he saw it—a black sedan parked two blocks down, the kind you only noticed if you were looking for trouble.
When he started toward it, the engine roared to life and the car pulled away.
Madison.
He didn't need to see her face to know.
This wasn't just about the past anymore.
It was about the present. And about Claire.
Claire's POV – Closing Scene
She didn't go back to the shop. Instead, she drove aimlessly until the sun started to dip, her mind replaying everything Ethan had said.
She was pulling into her apartment lot when her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She almost didn't answer.
But when she did, a woman's voice slid through the line, smooth and cold.
"You don't know me, Claire. But you should know this—Ethan Cole will ruin you. Just like he ruined me."
The call ended before she could respond.
And in the silence that followed, she realized her world had just shifted in a way she couldn't undo.