Anika's house stood like a relic on the edge of the trees, nestled between forgotten fences and snow-kissed gravel. The sky had turned soft again—cloudless, unusually quiet for what the survivors had been through. And behind the house, beneath a fading sun, steamed a glowing blue jacuzzi.
They hadn't laughed in weeks.
But now they did.
Missy, Dina, Kevin, and Natasha sat inside the warm water, shoulders slumped, eyes lighter for the first time since the massacre. The heat rose around them like a comforting ghost, hiding the scars on their bodies, soothing the burns on their minds.
Music from a cracked speaker played something stupid and catchy.
Dina raised a soda can and grinned. "To still breathing."
Missy snorted. "Barely."
Kevin let his head roll back and sighed. "Honestly, this feels illegal."
They all laughed. Even Natasha. Especially Natasha.
She'd closed her eyes, floating slightly, her back against the jets. Her hair fanned out like dark threads in the bubbling water.
None of them noticed the figure standing beyond the trees.
He stood still—half in shadow, half lit by the distant porchlight. Snowflakes drifted lazily past his face, melting before they ever touched his skin. His coat hung long and stiff like a dead man's uniform. In his right hand, he held a long, matte-black rifle.
Michael Harrington.
His face had healed. No longer mechanical. No longer monstrous. Just… human. Quiet. Expressionless.
But his eyes—those eyes—were empty. Not with grief. Not with rage. With a decision.
He lifted the rifle to his shoulder.
No tremble.
No hesitation.
A single, sharp sound cracked the evening air—louder than the music, louder than the laughter.
CRACK.
Natasha's eyes snapped open—but just for a fraction of a second.
Then her head jerked back violently. A small blossom of red opened across her forehead, followed by a second ripple through her temple.
She slipped soundlessly beneath the water.
Bubbles.
Silence.
And then—
Screams.
Missy screamed. Kevin lunged forward to pull her up, but Dina grabbed his arm, yanking him back. "No—no—get inside!" she shouted.
Another shot cracked through the trees—but missed, splintering the wooden railing inches from Anika's shoulder.
"Inside!" Missy shrieked.
They ran. Wet feet slapping against the deck. Anika fumbled with the sliding door, hands shaking, adrenaline blinding her. Dina shoved her through, slammed the door behind them, and twisted the lock.
Kevin pounded the glass. "We have to go back! Natasha—!"
"She's gone, Kev!" Dina snapped. "He shot her in the head!"
Missy collapsed onto the kitchen floor, dripping and sobbing. Anika stumbled to the windows and pulled the curtains shut, one by one. The house, moments ago filled with music and warmth, was suddenly dim, cold, and filled with the sound of shallow, panicked breathing.
Outside, the jacuzzi gurgled softly, the blood inside sloshing with the jets still running.
Kevin paced the room, soaked and shivering. "He was watching us. This whole time. Standing right there. Like it was nothing."
"Michael," Anika whispered. "It was Michael… he's not dead."
Missy sat up slowly, tears streaking her face. "He was waiting for us to get comfortable. He let us feel safe."
Dina pulled the curtain aside just enough to peer out.
There, between the trees, was movement.
Not running.
Not chasing.
Just… watching.
His silhouette.
Still.
Just like before.
Then—gone.
"Don't look outside," Dina said quietly, pulling the curtain shut again. "He wants you to watch. He wants you to see him leave."
Kevin's hands balled into fists. "We have to leave. Now. Take the car—anything."
"No," Anika said sharply. "We don't know what else he's planted out there. You think he came alone?"
And as if to answer her—
The house hummed.
A low, almost imperceptible vibration beneath their feet. The lights flickered.
The television turned on by itself.
Static.
Then a single, warped frame: the backyard jacuzzi—live footage.
Natasha's body floated in it, her blood forming petals across the water.
And then the image shifted.
To the woods.
To the house.
To the second-floor hallway—inside.
"No no no no no…" Missy backed away from the screen. "How did he get footage from—"
"He's already in the system," Dina whispered. "He's always been."
Kevin ran to the back door and locked it again, triple-checking. "We're sitting ducks here."
"No," Dina said, voice steely now. "We've done this before. We survived worse."
She looked up the stairs.
"We hold this house. We stay together. We don't split. And we don't assume we're safe, ever again."
Missy wiped her eyes. "What if he comes in?"
Dina looked back at the screen.
The hallway was empty now.
But the door at the end of it?
It was slowly… slowly… creaking open.
"We prepare," Dina said. "Because whatever happens next…"
She met their eyes, voice low, heart pounding.
"...this time, we don't run."