Chapter 32
“I can’t believe it was fucking Zach all this time.”
Wren slowly shook her head, eyes fixed on the gurney being wheeled across the lawn. A dark body bag had been zipped closed around Zach’s body, straps buckled tightly across the middle, and two paramedics were guiding it carefully toward a waiting ambulance.
Around it, the entire camp seemed to pulse with movement.
Police officers crossed back and forth between the cabins with evidence boxes and numbered markers. Yellow tape fluttered in the early morning breeze. More emergency vehicles kept arriving down the dirt road, red-and-blue lights flashing across the landscape.
Tamsin let out a shaky breath. “I can’t believe the Legacies killed Carly,” she said.
“And I can’t believe they did it over some fake-ass ritual written by a lunatic almost a hundred years ago,” Jesse added, jaw clenched.
Jasmine looked over at me then. “You know what I can’t believe?” she asked, lifting her brows. “You were under that bed the whole fucking time yesterday morning.”
“I’m sorry,” I said hurriedly. “I wanted to talk to you so badly, but Rhys thought—”
“Relax. I’m just messing with you.” She nudged me lightly with her elbow. “I totally get it. This whole thing turned everyone paranoid as hell. And honestly, considering my anger issues, I probably would’ve suspected me too.”
“Still. I’m really sorry.”
Jasmine’s expression softened, and she shifted closer and slung an arm around my shoulders. “It’s okay,” she murmured, voice turning slightly rough. “I’m just glad you’re alive.”
My throat tightened. “I’m glad you guys are okay too.”
For a moment, none of us spoke. We just sat there on the lawn outside the assembly hall while cops swarmed the camp around us.
Then Jasmine suddenly sat up straighter. “You know what?” she said. “I actually should’ve known.”
“Known what?” I asked, brows knitting.
“When Rhys told me you were alive yesterday morning, he sounded so certain,” she said. “He played it off like it was just wishful thinking or whatever, but looking back…” A small smile tugged at her mouth. “I should’ve known right then and there that you were okay.”
She squeezed my arm, smile lingering, and I leaned into her without thinking.
Wren still hadn’t looked away from the ambulance. “I seriously can’t get over Zach doing this,” she said. “Like, sure, he could be a dick sometimes, but compared to some of the other Legacies? He honestly would’ve been dead last on my suspect list.”
“Same,” Jasmine said. “But you know what we’ve always said. Never trust a fucking Legacy.”
“Apart from Rhys, apparently,” Tamsin added, lifting a brow.
Jasmine snorted softly. “Yeah, that’s something I never thought I’d say in my lifetime. Rhys Usher is kind of a decent guy.”
“Actually, that’s another thing I can’t believe,” Jesse said, snapping his fingers. “The fact that he faked his own death just so he could sneak around camp hunting the killer. That’s completely unhinged.”
“Well, it worked in the end, didn’t it?” Tamsin said, shrugging. “He got him, and he saved Alissa too. It’s just a shame Zach managed to kill so many people before it happened.”
“Yeah.” Jasmine exhaled slowly and glanced out across the campgrounds. “What do you guys think will happen to Blackpine now?”
Tamsin shrugged again. “No idea. But there’s no way anyone’s ever sending their kids here again. So it won’t be a summer camp anymore, that’s for sure.”
“I bet you a million bucks some rich horror fanatic buys it and turns it into a slasher-themed survival camp,” Jesse said, rolling his eyes. “They’ll charge people to ‘live the horror movie experience’ or whatever.”
“You’re probably right,” Jasmine said. “But there’s no way in hell I’d go to that. I’ve already survived the real thing. So I’m good.”
“Speaking of horror movies… I just realized something.” Wren’s gaze snapped back to us. “Do you know what this technically makes us?”
Tamsin frowned. “What?”
“Final girls.”
Jesse groaned. “Oh my god...”
“What’s a final girl?” Tamsin asked.
“It’s the girl who survives until the end in every slasher movie. Usually smart, wholesome, sweet, and—”
“And always a virgin for some reason,” Jasmine cut in, raising a brow. “So I guess that actually rules us out as final girls. Unless… do you think being an anal virgin counts?”
The words slipped out so casually that for half a second nobody reacted. Then Jasmine clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, guys,” she muttered through her fingers. “I know now’s not the time for jokes. I shouldn’t—”
But Wren was already laughing, just enough to break the tension. “It’s fine, Jas,” she said. “This is exactly what we need. A bit of laughter before we all completely lose our minds.”
A few more shaky laughs rippled through the group after that, uneven and edged with exhaustion, but real enough to loosen something in my chest. And for the first time in days, sitting there while the sun climbed slowly over Camp Blackpine, I actually felt like I could breathe.
A paramedic appeared beside us. “Alissa Madsen?”
I nodded, squinting up at him. “That’s me.”
“Rhys Usher is asking for you before we transport him,” he said, gesturing toward the second ambulance. “Won't take long.”
Jasmine nudged me with her elbow again. “Go get your man,” she whispered, lips twitching.
I rose to my feet and followed the paramedic across the lawn. When we reached the back of the ambulance, he stepped aside and gestured for me to go ahead.
I climbed in.
Rhys was sitting on the bench along the right side of the narrow space, shirtless with a thick bandage wrapped around his upper left arm. He looked pale and tired, but when he saw me, his expression shifted into something warmer.
I sat down beside him. “What did they say about your arm?”
“I’ll need surgery, but it doesn’t look like any important nerves were damaged,” he replied. “So it should be fine afterwards.”
The tension in my shoulders released all at once. “That’s good.”
“I’ll have a pretty nasty scar,” he added, looking down at the bandage. “But you know what they say. Chicks dig scars.”
“Hoping to attract all the girls, huh?”
“There’s one in particular I’ve got in mind,” he said, lips twitching. “Speaking of which… are you going to come and visit me in the hospital?”
I tilted my head slightly to one side. “I’ll think about it,” I said. “I mean, scars are pretty sexy.”
Rhys laughed at that, head shaking slightly. “You’ll think about it, huh?”
“I’ll come,” I said, voice softer now. “And… there’s something else I want to do too.”
He cocked a brow. “Yeah? What’s that?”
I didn’t reply. I just leaned in and kissed him.
He responded immediately, his good hand coming up to cup my jaw, pulling me closer with a quiet intensity that made my chest ache in the best possible way.
When his fingers slid into my hair, I forgot about the ambulance, the paramedics, and the police tape still cordoning off half the campgrounds. All of it dissolved into the warm press of Rhys’s mouth against mine and the steadying weight of his hand.
A throat cleared loudly nearby, and we broke apart. The paramedic was standing at the ambulance doors, staring at us.
“Sir,” he said, forehead creasing. “I did mention that unnecessary movement could tear the wound site and significantly worsen the resulting scar.”
Rhys didn’t even look away from me. A slow grin spread across his face.
“It's okay,” he said, leaning in like he was about to kiss me again. “My girlfriend thinks scars are sexy.”