Chapter Twenty Seven
In Cold Blood
Rachel Williams
We’re running.
Not walking. Not hiking. Running.
Branches whip at my arms, the cold burns my lungs, and the only thing I can hear is the pounding of my heartbeat and Bishop’s footsteps right behind me. David is ahead, flashlight bouncing wildly as he pushes through the trees toward the compound.
Beth’s body is gone. Gone. Gone.
The word keeps repeating in my head like a scream.
We break through the last line of trees, the compound lights flickering through the dark. David slows just enough to catch his breath.
And that’s when I see him.
Shaw.
He’s slumped against the side of the building, half-collapsed, half-propped up like he crawled there. His clothes are soaked in blood, and his face is twisted in pain.
He looks terrified.
“Shaw?” I breathe.
He lifts his head, eyes glassy, unfocused. “I tried…I wanted..”
Bishop moves toward him fast, weapon lowered but ready. “Don’t move. Shaw, don’t-”
Before Bishop can finish, before I can blink, before Shaw can even raise his hands-
A gunshot cracks through the night.
I scream. Bishop jerks. Shaw’s body slams back against the wall and crumples.
David stands there, gun raised, chest heaving, eyes wild.
“What the hell did you just do?” Bishop roars.
“He killed Beth!” David shouts back. “He killed her! He came back for her, he moved her, he was going to come after us next!”
“He was injured!” I shout. “He was barely conscious!”
“He’s dangerous,” David snaps. “He attacked us. He escaped. He’s been living out here like an animal-”
“And you shot him without warning, he was unarmed,” Bishop says, voice low and lethal. “You executed him.”
David’s hands shake, but he doesn’t lower the gun. “He was the killer. He had to be.”
Bishop looks at Shaw’s body still, bleeding, lifeless, and something in his expression shifts. Doubt.
And then something else.
“Rachel…” Bishop says quietly, “if Shaw moved Beth’s body… if he came back… if he was watching us…”
“No,” I whisper. “No, Bishop, he couldn’t have. He was hurt. He was sedated. He could barely stand……”
“There isn’t anyone else,” Bishop says, voice tight. “There’s no one left alive who had access. No one else who could’ve gotten into the cave. No one else who knew our movements.”
David lowers the gun slowly, breathing hard. “It was him. It had to be him.”
I stare at Shaw’s body, the blood pooling beneath him, the horror settling in my chest like ice.
Beth is gone. Shaw is dead.
Bishop looks shaken. Like he’s questioning everything. Like he’s wondering if he was wrong to doubt Shaw. Like he’s wondering if the nightmare is finally over.
Except it isn’t.
Because Beth’s body didn’t vanish on its own. Because Shaw didn’t have time to move her.
Shaw wasn’t the only one with access.
I swallow hard, my voice barely a whisper.
“Bishop… what if it wasn’t Shaw?”
He looks at me and I see the fear in his eyes.
Because if Shaw wasn’t the killer…
Then someone inside the compound is.
Someone alive. Someone close. Someone watching.
And we just killed the wrong man.
I’m still shaking when I turn on David, the compound lights flickering behind us, Shaw’s body cooling on the ground. Bishop is pacing like a caged animal, jaw tight, eyes unfocused; like he’s trying to force the pieces into place, and they keep slipping through his fingers.
But I can’t let this spiral. Not now. Not with Beth gone. Not with Shaw dead. Not with the killer still out there.
“David,” I say, stepping toward him, “who else was involved in the investigation? Anyone who had access. Anyone who knew the case files. Anyone who stayed behind.”
He wipes his face with a trembling hand. “It was just me. Everyone else evacuated. Except-”
He hesitates.
“Except who?” I push.
“Kyle,” he says finally. “The kid.”
My stomach drops.
“The one who said he saw a werewolf?” I ask.
David nods. “Yeah. He was on night rotation. He was supposed to check the perimeter. He works between the different stations in the region.”
Bishop stops pacing.
“Kyle didn’t evacuate?” he asks, voice low.
“No,” David says. “He stayed behind. He said he wanted to help.”
Bishop’s eyes sharpen- focused, dangerous. “Where is he now?”
David shakes his head. “I don’t know. I haven’t been tracking him; he was supposed to stay in the main office.”
A cold wave rolls through me.
Kyle. Young. Eager. And unaccounted for.
Bishop turns to David. “We’re checking his cabin.”
David nods, already moving.
Bishop turns to me next…and his expression softens in a way that makes my chest tighten.
“Rachel,” he says quietly, “you’re staying here.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he steps closer, lowering his voice.
“You’ll be safer inside the compound. Lock the doors. Arm yourself. Don’t open for anyone but us.”
“I can help,” I say, even though my voice shakes.
“I know you can,” he says. “But Kyle might be armed. He might be unstable. And I’m not risking you.”
The words hit harder than they should. Not because he’s shutting me out. But because he’s scared. Really scared.
And I’m too exhausted to fight him.
“Fine,” I whisper. “I’ll stay.”
He nods once, relief flickering across his face, and presses a handgun into my palm. His fingers brush mine, warm and steady, and for a moment everything inside me threatens to crack open.
But I pull back.
Not now. Not here. Not with Shaw dead and Beth missing and Kyle possibly homicidal.
David calls from the gate, “Bishop, let’s go!”
Bishop looks at me one last time. “Lock the door behind us.”
I nod.
He turns and runs after David, disappearing into the dark.
I shut the compound door. Lock it. Bolt it. Check the windows. Check the corners. Check the shadows.
Then I stand in the center of the room, gun in hand, heart pounding.
Kyle is out there. Beth is gone. Shaw is dead. And the killer is still moving.
Someone we trusted.
Someone who watched us.
Someone who waited.
And now I’m alone.
I keep pacing the main room, gun in hand, every shadow looking like it might move. Bishop and David are somewhere out in the woods heading toward Kyle’s cabin, and I keep replaying Bishop’s last words:
Lock the door behind us.
I did. I triple-checked it. I checked the windows. I checked the corners.
But something feels wrong.
Then a sound breaks the silence.
Soft. Wet. Broken.
“Help…”
I freeze.
It’s a woman’s voice. Faint. Strained. Barely more than a whisper.
“Help… please…”
My heart slams into my ribs.
“Beth?” I breathe.
I move toward the door, gun raised, pulse hammering. I shouldn’t open it. I know I shouldn’t. Bishop told me not to. He told me to stay inside. He told me to be safe.
But the voice comes again closer this time.
“Rachel… help…”
It’s her. It’s Beth. It has to be.
I unlock the door and yank it open.
Cold air rushes in.
And there she is.
Beth is on the ground just outside the door, crawling across the dirt, her hands shaking, her face streaked with mud and blood. She looks terrified. Desperate. Alive.
“Beth!” I drop to my knees beside her, gun forgotten, everything forgotten. “Oh my God. Beth, I’m here, I’m here-”
She reaches for me with trembling fingers. “Rachel… please…”
I grab her shoulders, trying to lift her, trying to help her stand. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. Bishop and David are coming back. We’re going to get you inside.”
Her eyes flick past me.
Over my shoulder.
Toward the compound door.
And something in her expression changes.
Fear.
“Rachel…” she whispers, voice cracking. “Behind you.”
I turn and see nothing. What the hell?
Something cracks against the back of my head, and I fall to the ground, my eyes open long enough to see Beth; no longer on the ground looking down at me with a grim smile.
Fuck.