Julie's living room was heavy with tense silence, broken only by the creak of the floor under Barry's restless pacing. Julie, Helen, Ray, and Cassian gathered around the table, the crumpled anonymous letter at its center like a poisonous reminder. The news of Barry's attack the previous night—run over by his own stolen car and threatened by a figure with a hook—had shaken the group, but the discovery of Max's body in Julie's trunk, covered in crabs and disappearing minutes later, had pushed them to the brink of panic. Cassian, standing by the window, watched the fog rising from the harbor, his face serene but his senses sharp as a blade.
Barry slammed his fist on the table, his voice ringing with anger.
"This is bullshit! First, they run me over with my own damn car, then that hook-wielding freak chases me, and now Max is dead. Who the hell is behind this? We need to find him before he comes after us again!"
Julie, pale and trembling, looked up at him.
"I don't know, Barry. The letter, Max in my trunk… someone knows what we did. I thought we'd left it behind, but now it's here. Cassian, what do you think? You said it was human, not a ghost. Who could it be?"
Cassian turned to them, crossing his arms with icy calm.
"It's human, yes. A killer with a purpose. No sulfur, no signs of the supernatural. This is revenge, pure and simple. Whoever it is saw you that night or survived what you did. We need names, clues. Who else could know besides Max?"
Helen, seated beside Julie, frowned, her voice soft but anxious.
"Max didn't tell anyone; I'm sure of it. He saw us on the road, but we didn't say anything. Maybe… I don't know, someone from town who passed by afterward. But why wait a year? And why Max first?"
Ray, silent until now, spoke from the couch, his tone low and evasive.
"Maybe Max said something, and we don't know. He worked at the docks, talked to a lot of people. But I don't think it's someone from town. This feels personal. Cassian, how do you find him if we don't know who he is?"
Cassian looked at him with piercing eyes, assessing him for a moment before answering.
"We look for clues where it started. The man you hit, David Egan. If anyone knew him, that could be our thread. Where did he live? Did he have family?"
Julie nodded slowly, recalling.
"Missy Egan, his sister. She lives near the beach, in an old house. We could go talk to her, but what do we say? We can't confess what we did."
Cassian adjusted his bag on his shoulder, his tone firm.
"We don't confess. We ask about David, subtly. If she knows something, I'll notice. Let's go now, before the killer strikes again."
The group drove to Melissa "Missy" Egan's house, a dilapidated structure surrounded by fishing nets and rotting wood. Missy, a woman with a lost gaze and disheveled hair, greeted them at the door, suspicious but curious. Cassian took the lead, his voice calm but probing.
"Good afternoon, Miss Egan. We're friends of Julie. We've come to talk about David, your brother. May we come in?"
Missy looked them up and down, hesitating.
"David? Why now? He died a year ago, a road accident. What do you want to know? I don't have much to say."
Cassian stepped inside, keeping his distance but evaluating every detail of the room.
"We just want to understand what happened. We heard rumors and wanted to clarify them. Did anyone visit him after his death? Someone who asked about him?"
Missy sat down, fidgeting with a ring on her finger.
"Not many. Town folks don't talk about him. But there was a guy, months ago. Billy Blue—he said he was David's friend from high school. Came to give me his condolences, seemed off. That's all I know. Why do you care so much?"
Helen interjected, her tone gentle.
"Just curiosity, Missy. David was part of this town, and so are we. Thank you for telling us. Is Billy Blue still around?"
Missy shook her head.
"I haven't seen him since then. He left quickly. That's all I know. If you want more, ask at the docks."
Cassian inclined his head, thanking her with a gesture before leading the group outside. In the car, Barry growled, frustrated.
"Billy Blue? Who the hell is that? We didn't get anything useful. This is a waste of time."
Cassian glanced at him through the rearview mirror, his voice sharp.
"It's not a waste. We have a name. The docks are the next step. But first, you need to defend yourselves. If that killer comes, I won't always be one step away. Julie, Helen, come with me. I'll teach you something."
In a clearing near town, Cassian trained Julie and Helen, his lethal precision shining in every movement.
"Feet steady, arms up," he said, adjusting Julie's stance. "If someone grabs you, strike here, at the throat, and run. Helen, you use this." He handed her a short stick. "Aim for the eyes or knees. Don't hesitate."
Julie, sweating, looked at him in awe.
"Where did you learn this? You're like… I don't know, a soldier or something. Are you always this calm?"
Cassian dodged a mock punch from Helen, responding calmly.
"Training, years of it. Calm is control. If you lose your head, you lose the fight. Keep practicing."
On the Fourth of July, the parade filled Southport's streets with lights and noise. Helen, crowned as queen, was on stage, while Barry kept watch backstage. A figure in a black overcoat—Ben Willis—emerged from the fog, driving his hook into Barry's chest with a brutal strike. Helen screamed, running with a police officer, but along the way, Willis killed the officer with a slash to the throat.
Cassian, alerted by the screams, ran to the alley where Helen trembled beside the body. Willis confronted him, wielding the hook. Cassian dodged with agility, using his dagger to deflect the weapon and striking the fisherman with a punch to the jaw and a kick to the knee, forcing him to retreat, injured. Helen, gasping, grabbed his arm.
"Thank you, Cassian! Oh God, he killed Barry, he killed the cop… what is this? Why won't he die?"
Cassian guided her toward her sister Elsa's shop, his voice icy.
"He won't die easily, but he bleeds. That means I can stop him. Stay close, Helen."
In the shop, Elsa, Helen's sister, locked the door, but Willis entered from behind, killing her with a hook strike. He chased Helen through the aisles, but Cassian intercepted him, blocking the hook with the dagger and slicing his arm with a quick strike. With a kick to the chest, he forced the fisherman back into the alley, saving Helen once more.
Hours later, at the docks, Julie and Helen reunited with Cassian, their faces pale but determined. Julie looked at him, her voice trembling.
"Barry's dead, Max is dead… who's next? I can't lose Helen too. What do we do now?"
Cassian cleaned the dagger, his tone firm.
"We face him together. He's injured but not finished. Ray, where were you? We haven't seen you."
Ray, emerging from the shadows, raised his hands.
"I was looking for clues at the docks. I got a note, like Julie's. I don't know what's going on, but I'm with you."
Cassian looked at him distrustfully but nodded.
"Then we stay together. The next move will be the last, I promise."
The fog thickened around the docks, Willis's hook glinting in the distance, waiting for his moment.