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Jackson's POV
There was no going back to normal after a discovery like this.
Normal.
As if my life had ever been.
Kevin's body kept flashing in my mind.
The too-precise position.
The frozen gaze.
And that persistent, unsettling feeling…
As if he had been watched until the very last moment.
The police had asked too many questions.
Not the right ones, in my opinion.
My uncle had warned me to be cautious.
To stay discreet.
I had answered curtly.
We had parted on unresolved tension—heavy, familiar tension.
Like everything we never spoke about.
And, once again, it was about her.
Now I stood in front of the Greenne house.
The façade looked different.
Not darker.
Not dilapidated.
Just… strange.
Sam had called Claire.
Worried.
And Claire had called me in turn.
Avery is back. She's not okay.
The words still echoed in my mind as I placed my hand on the doorknob.
I stepped inside.
The smell hit me immediately.
Subtle.
Metallic.
Something my mind associated too quickly with Kevin.
My gaze swept the room, by reflex.
The details.
The absences.
The too-perfect order.
The white mark on the tile came back to me.
Then I saw her.
Avery.
A knife clutched in her trembling hands.
Eyes wide.
Alert.
When she saw me, a breath of relief escaped her at the sound of my name.
Almost a confession.
Then her body gave way.
She slowly sank against the counter, sliding down to the floor, curling into herself as if simply standing required too much effort. Her shoulders had slumped. Her features pulled tight with a fatigue I had never seen on her.
She didn't look at me right away.
And a strange, disturbing certainty hit me.
Avery was hiding something.
And it was far more worrying than the fear I could read on her face.
Far more worrying than the knife between her fingers.
The words we had just exchanged still hung between us.
Not the ones she had shouted.
The ones she hadn't said.
They lingered in the air, heavy, caught somewhere between her anger and my cowardice.
The argument hadn't resolved anything.
It had only reopened old cracks—ones I had always avoided facing.
She had pushed me away.
Not just with her gestures.
With everything she refused to let me near.
And yet, despite her anger, despite her obvious lies, she was still trembling.
I had seen it.
Too well.
I should never have insisted.
But I never knew how to do otherwise with her.
I stepped forward slowly.
Not too close.
As if one more step could shatter her…
or force me to discover what I wasn't ready to hear.
That's when the silence changed.
Not the tense silence after an argument.
A different one.
Denser.
More attentive.
The floor creaked.
A brief sound.
Slow.
Deliberate.
I might not have noticed it…
if I hadn't seen Avery's expression freeze.
I turned instinctively.
The creak had been too sharp to ignore.
Not just the house settling.
A step.
Slow.
My hand tensed slightly, ready, though I didn't really know for what.
The front door was still closed.
Nothing moved.
Yet the feeling persisted.
That unpleasant sensation of being watched.
I had felt it before.
Earlier.
In front of Kevin.
Behind me, Avery said nothing.
I noticed her breath catch. Not a scream. Not a word. Just that tense stillness, betraying a fear far deeper than anything she had shown me so far.
"Avery…" I murmured, not taking my eyes off her.
She didn't answer.
I realized then that the sound hadn't been imagined.
And that if someone was here…
Avery already knew.
I stepped forward, positioning myself slightly in front of her without really thinking.
A reflex.
Protective.
Maybe useless, but impossible to stop.
"Tell me I'm wrong," I whispered.
Her silence answered me.
And in that precise moment, I knew one thing:
I hadn't come too late.
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