Chapter 31
The basement felt smaller this morning. Closer. Like the walls were inching toward them while no one was looking.
Cara sat at the head of the table, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee she hadn't touched.
She'd given up on sleep around three a.m., finally abandoning her tangled sheets to stare at the ceiling until dawn crept through her window.
Every time she'd closed her eyes, she'd felt hands around her throat.
Seen Thorne's wild eyes in the darkness.
Heard Blaire's voice promising destruction.
She wasn't the only one running on fumes.
Across from her, Tom hunched over his laptop, dark circles under his eyes suggesting he'd spent the night chasing digital ghosts instead of rest. Reagan leaned against the wall near the stairs, arms crossed, watching everyone with that quiet intensity she brought to everything—though even her sharp edges seemed dulled by exhaustion.
Wade stood by the monitors, scrolling through data Cara couldn't make sense of from this distance.
He moved stiffly, favoring his left side.
The tackle in the parking lot had cost him more than he'd admitted.
No Piper. School day. Tom had insisted, and for once his daughter hadn't argued.
The door at the top of the stairs opened, and Diane's footsteps descended—careful, measured, balancing a tray.
"Fresh coffee. And those cheese Danish you all pretend you don't like." She eyed Wade as she set the tray on the table, her warm smile cutting through the tension like sunlight through fog. "Anything else before I open up?"
"We're good." Cara managed a smile. "Thank you, Diane."
"Of course." Diane's hand brushed Cara's shoulder as she passed—a brief touch, there and gone. Comfort without intrusion.
Wade watched her climb the stairs, something soft crossing his face before he caught himself and looked away. Reagan noticed. Said nothing. But the corner of her mouth twitched.
The door closed. The basement fell silent again.
"Okay." Tom straightened, turning his laptop so they could all see the screen. "Here's what we know. Michael Thorne is still out there. Gabe's got his people searching, but the guy's gone to ground. Could be anywhere."
"So we've got a would-be killer on the loose and Blaire planning who knows what." Reagan's voice was flat. "Perfect."
"Thorne's not our biggest problem." Wade turned from the monitors. "He wanted Blaire dead, not Cara. Last night was a case of wrong place, wrong time."
"Easy for you to say." Cara's hand drifted to her throat. The bruises had darkened overnight—she'd seen them in the mirror this morning, a necklace of purple and blue she couldn't hide. "He seemed pretty committed to killing whoever was in front of him."
"Fair point." Wade's expression softened. "But Blaire's the one ready to detonate your life. Thorne's just... collateral chaos."
"What do we know about him?" Reagan asked. "Beyond 'crazy guy who tried to strangle Cara'?"
Tom pulled up another screen. "Not much yet. Michael Thorne, mid-forties, lives in Portland. No criminal record. Keeps a low profile. But here's the interesting part—I found payments from his bank account to one of Blaire's shell companies. Going back three years."
Reagan let out a low whistle. "That's a long time to be under someone's thumb."
"So he's another victim." Cara stared at the screen.
"Can't exactly blame him for wanting her dead." Wade's voice was grim.
Reagan pushed off the wall. "The question is, does Blaire know he's here? If she knows one of her victims came to Haven Cove to kill her, that changes things."
"Gabe warned her last night," Cara said. "She knows someone's hunting her, probably Thorne."
"Which means she's scared and angry." Tom shook his head. "Not a great combination."
Wade crossed his arms. "What matters is Blaire. What's her next move?"
The question hung in the air. Before anyone could answer, Tom continued.
"Her cloud backups are gone. Her local system is fried. But..." He pulled up another screen. "She's been in this business a long time. There's no way she doesn't have offline copies somewhere. Hard drives, safety deposit boxes, a storage unit full of blackmail material."
"So she can still expose me."
"Bingo."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Reagan pushed off the wall. "Then we need to find another angle. Something that takes her down before she can—"
Cara's phone buzzed.
Everyone went still.
She looked at the screen. Unknown number. But she knew. Somehow, she knew.
"It's her."
Wade moved closer. Tom's fingers hovered over his keyboard, ready to trace the call.
Cara put a finger to her lips, signaling for silence as she put the call on speaker, and answered.
"Sleep well?” Blaire's voice was ice. No warmth, no Instagram sparkle, no pretense. Just cold, calculated fury. “I certainly didn't."
"Blaire—"
"Don't." The word cut like a blade. "What’s the deal with that attack last night?” Blaire continued. "Your FBI boyfriend thinks the guy was after me, but he got you by mistake. Right after our little meeting where you promised me we were partners." A pause. "How did he know I'd be there, Cara?"
Cara's heart hammered against her ribs. Around her, the team stood frozen, listening. "I don't—"
"I didn't tell anyone about that meeting.
Which means you did. Too bad your little hitman made a mistake.
Sorry. Not sorry." Blaire's laugh was bitter, brittle.
"You were never alone, were you? This whole time—the FBI emails, the system crash, the partnership offer—you've been running a con. On me."
Cara closed her eyes. No point in denying it. Plus Blaire would never believe that Cara hadn’t called in a hit.
"I have to admit, I'm impressed." Blaire's voice dripped with venom. "I've taken down some heavy hitters, and I didn't see it coming. The scared little baker, begging for mercy, playing the victim. And the whole time you had a team. Resources. A plan."
"Blaire, listen to me—"
"No. You listen." All pretense of calm evaporated. "You and your stupid friends destroyed my work. Do you have any idea what I built? It was worth millions, Cara. Millions. And you burned it all down in one night."
"I told you, I’m working on getting the money."
"You think fifty thousand dollars matters to me now?" Blaire cut her off with a harsh laugh. "That ship sailed. You cost me my entire operation. My life's work."
Silence on the line. Cara could hear Blaire breathing, trying to regain control.
When she spoke again, her voice was deadly calm. "This isn't about money anymore. You made it personal when you tried to make a fool out of me. When you looked me in the eye and lied while your sketchy friends tore down everything I'd built."
"Blaire, please—"
"Here's what's going to happen. By midnight tonight, everyone in Haven Cove will know exactly who you are. Every lie. Every secret. Every inconsistency in your precious inheritance story."
Cara's blood turned to ice.
"I'm going to start with your police chief. Send him everything I have. The forged will, the fake identity documents, the gaps in your background that don't add up. Let him run you through his FBI databases. See what pops."
"You'll destroy your leverage—"
"I don't want leverage anymore." Blaire's voice turned venomous.
"I want you ruined. I want you to watch everything you've built crumble around you. I want you to know what it feels like to lose everything. And then, I’ll find a way to rebuild.
I win. You lose. Enjoy your last day, Cara. You earned it."
Click.
The basement was silent. Cara stared at the phone in her hand, her reflection dark in the black screen.
"Cara." Reagan's voice, gentle but urgent. "Cara, look at me."
She couldn't. Couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
"We can fix this." Tom's fingers were already flying across his keyboard. "There has to be something. A way to stop her, discredit her, buy more time—"
"She's got offline backups," Wade said quietly. "You said it yourself. We can't destroy what we can't find."
"Then we find them. We have until midnight—"
"To locate a safety deposit box or storage unit that could be anywhere?" Reagan shook her head. "That's not enough time. Plus, you’re assuming Blaire will actually wait until midnight."
"So what? We just give up?" Tom's voice cracked. "Let her destroy Cara's life?"
"Nobody's giving up." Wade's voice was calm. Steady. The voice of a man who'd faced impossible odds before. "But we need to be realistic about our options."
Cara finally looked up. Three faces staring at her—worried, determined, ready to fight.
They'd risked everything for her. And now they were going to watch her fall.
"Maybe..." Her voice came out hoarse. She cleared her throat, tried again. "Maybe it's time to stop running."
"Cara, no." Reagan stepped forward. "We can figure this out—"
"She's right about one thing. I've been lying since the day I got here. To everyone." Cara set her phone on the table, stared at it like it might explode. "Maybe this is just... the bill coming due."
"That's not how this works." Wade moved to stand beside her. "You made mistakes, I’m guessing.”
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “That’s a kind way to put it.”
He grunted. “So what? We all have. How do you think most of us ended up in the Cove? You're trying to make up for them. That counts for something."
"Does it? When Gabe finds out who I really am—what I really did—do you think he'll see it that way?"
No one answered. Because they all knew the truth.
Gabe Sawyer, former FBI, current police chief, the most honest man any of them had ever met—wasn't going to look at Cara Sweet the same way once even part of her web of lies unraveled.
Some lies were too big to forgive.
"No way that woman wins.” Tom's voice was quiet but fierce. "I'm not giving up. None of us are."
Cara looked at her friends. At the people who'd chosen her, fought for her, believed in her even when she couldn't believe in herself.
She nodded slowly. "Okay. What do we do?"
The planning began. Ideas thrown out, rejected, refined. Tom diving deeper into Blaire's digital footprint. Reagan and Wade strategizing physical surveillance, trying to track Blaire's movements.
But underneath the activity, underneath the desperate hope, Cara felt the clock ticking.