Molly hadn't meant to follow him.
That's what she told herself later.
It wasn't planned. It wasn't strategic. It wasn't even rational.
It started as a coincidence.
She had gone out for coffee that morning, needing air, needing space away from walls that felt like they were closing in. Brian had already left for the station.
She was pulling out of the parking lot when she saw Jack's vehicle turn onto the main road ahead.
Her stomach dropped.
He wasn't headed toward the station.
He was heading out of town.
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.
This is stupid.
But she followed anyway.
Far enough back not to be obvious. Two cars between them at first. Then one. Then open road.
He drove toward the lake.
Not the public marina.
Further.
More isolated.
Her pulse began to pound so loudly she could hear it in her ears.
He turned down a narrow road lined with thick trees.
The same direction Brian had driven days ago.
Her breath went shallow.
Don't do this.
But she did.
She slowed, letting distance grow between them, pretending to check her phone when another car passed so she wouldn't look suspicious.
Jack eventually pulled off near a small private dock access point.
Not a full marina.
Just a long wooden stretch leading into the water with a few slips.
He parked.
Got out.
Looked around casually.
Molly ducked lower in her seat, heart racing.
He didn't look her direction.
He walked to a small motorboat tied at the dock.
Untied it.
Got in.
Started the engine.
The sound echoed over the water.
He was going across the lake.
Her breathing quickened.
Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone.
This was beyond crazy.
But if she turned back now—
She would never forgive herself.
She parked further down the dirt shoulder, partially concealed by brush, and stepped out quietly. She moved low, crouching near the tree line, careful not to make noise as she reached a vantage point overlooking the water.
Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped her phone.
She opened the camera.
Zoomed in.
Jack's boat cut across the lake steadily, heading toward the far side where thick trees met the shoreline.
There.
A dock.
Barely visible through the branches.
And behind it—
A cabin.
Her heart stopped.
He slowed the boat, easing into the dock like he'd done it a hundred times before.
She recorded everything.
Him tying the rope.
His stepping onto the wood.
Him looking back across the lake.
For a split second—
He scanned the shoreline.
Her body flattened against the ground, breath trapped in her lungs.
If he saw her—
If he even suspected—
But after a long moment, he turned away.
Walked up the narrow path toward the cabin.
Her camera zoomed in further.
The image shook violently from her trembling hands.
He reached the door.
Unlocked it.
Stepped inside.
The door closed.
Molly remained frozen on the ground.
Seconds passed.
Then—
Movement.
In the window.
Her pulse slammed against her ribs.
She zoomed in as far as the phone allowed.
The image pixelated.
But there—
A shadow.
A figure.
A flash of something pale near the window.
A face?
Her breath caught.
It was fast.
Just a flicker.
But she knew.
She knew.
Sarah.
Oh God.
Her vision blurred with tears.
Her hands began shaking uncontrollably now.
She lowered the phone slowly, panic flooding her system.
He's there.
She's there.
And I'm alone.
The weight of what she had just done crashed down on her.
If he had turned around.
If he had scanned the shoreline again.
If he had taken the boat back.
She was completely exposed.
No backup.
No weapon.
No plan.
Her legs felt weak as she crawled back toward her car.
Every sound in the woods made her flinch.
Every rustle felt like footsteps.
She reached the driver's seat and slammed the door quietly, locking it immediately.
Her breath came in ragged bursts.
She didn't start the engine right away.
She waited.
Watching the water.
Watching the cabin.
Nothing moved.
Finally, she started the car.
Drove away.
Didn't look back.
She was shaking when she reached Brian's apartment.
He wasn't home yet.
She paced the living room, replaying the video over and over again, tears streaming silently down her face.
It wasn't perfect footage.
But it was enough.
Him docking.
Him entering.
The shadow.
Her phone buzzed.
Brian.
Running late. Everything okay?
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
She didn't trust her voice.
Come home. Please.
He arrived twenty minutes later.
The moment he stepped through the door and saw her face—
His expression changed.
"What happened?"
She didn't speak.
She just handed him the phone.
He watched the video once.
Then again.
Then a third time.
His jaw tightened so hard it hurt.
"You followed him," he said quietly.
It wasn't a question.
She nodded, tears falling freely now.
"I saw him go there. I saw the cabin. Brian, I think I saw her. I think she's there."
His hands were steady.
His eyes were not.
"You could have gotten yourself killed," he said.
"I know."
"Do you have any idea what would've happened if he turned that boat around?"
"I know."
"You would've been alone. No signal. No backup."
Her voice cracked.
"I couldn't just sit there anymore."
He stepped back, running a hand through his hair.
"This was reckless."
"I know."
"You don't go near him. You don't follow him. That was the one rule."
"I'm sorry."
He exhaled sharply.
Anger wasn't the right word.
Fear was.
Raw, unfiltered fear.
He walked to the window, staring out into the night.
"She's there," Molly whispered behind him.
He didn't answer immediately.
Because now—
They had something real.
Video evidence placing Jack at that cabin.
And possibly Sarah inside.
But acting too fast—
Could trigger him.
Could make him panic.
Could make him kill her.
Brian turned slowly.
"We do not move tonight."
Molly's eyes widened.
"But—"
"We move wrong, she dies."
The words were blunt.
Necessary.
He stepped closer.
"You did something incredibly dangerous."
"I know."
"But you also gave me something."
She searched his face.
"What?"
"Confirmation."
He looked back at the video again.
The dock.
The cabin.
The shadow.
The explosion had begun.
But it wasn't loud yet.
It was silent.
Controlled.
And now—
They were closer than ever before.
And more vulnerable than ever.