CAPSIZE | BOOK II (Rafe Cameron)

13.

We all sat on the dock at the Chateau the next day, the weight of Ward's explosion still hanging in the air like a lingering cloud of smoke. Ward Cameron was gone—dead in a fiery blast. And though part of me should have felt some twisted satisfaction, all I could feel was emptiness, gnawing at my insides.

I sat next to JJ, my legs dangling in the water beneath him as he fished.

"Don't get that hook in my foot, or you're dead," I warned, my tone flat but the corner of my mouth twitching upward. When his eyes met mine, I couldn't help but smile.

There had been an ease between us lately—something familiar and comforting. I'd leaned on JJ, and in return, he'd been there for me like an anchor in a storm.

"Do you think he deserved it?" JJ asked, his voice quiet, almost swallowed by the soft lapping of the water.

The question hung between us, unresolved, until Pope broke the silence, his voice too firm, too sure. "Of course he did. He brought this on himself."

But something didn't sit right with me. Ward's death wasn't a victory. It wasn't justice. It was just... an ending. And endings, no matter who was left standing, were always messy.

John B. had been uncharacteristically quiet. His eyes were fixed on the marsh, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, his hands clenched at his sides. He was thinking about Sarah. I could tell. Worry etched across his face.

I glanced at JJ again, and he met my gaze. We both knew something was off. Sometimes, the weight of the world didn't just lift because someone got what they deserved. It wasn't that simple.

"I'm gonna head out," I said, breaking the silence. "I've got a shift at the Black Pelican."

"I'll catch up with you guys later, at the bonfire," I added.

JJ stood up suddenly, stretching his arms overhead with a loud yawn. "I could use a drink," he said, his tone casual.

I raised an eyebrow, confused. The Black Pelican? Really? The place was full of tourists and middle-aged couples pretending they knew how to handle a boat.

I shrugged and gave him a half-smile. "Lead the way."

We walked side by side, our footsteps syncing as we moved away from the Chateau. The silence wasn't awkward—it felt easy. Comfortable, even. We didn't need words to fill the space; we were just here, processing everything, letting the world spin while we stood still for a moment.

We talked about nothing—mostly stupid things, like which was worse: the heat or the humidity, or how the Pelican's drinks were ridiculously overpriced. It was light, and for the first time in days, I didn't feel like the weight of everything was crushing me.

The Black Pelican wasn't crowded yet, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows through the windows, streaking the wooden floors with warmth.

"You can sit at the bar, drinks on me," I said, grinning at JJ as I led the way inside.

He slid onto one of the barstools without hesitation, a devil-may-care grin spreading across his face. "Now this is more like it," he said, scanning the room, clearly enjoying the change of pace.

I walked behind the bar, grabbing a cold beer and sliding it across to him. He tipped it toward me, a silent thanks as he cracked it open.

As I clocked in, the usual hum of the bar settled around me. I waved to a few coworkers, nodded at regulars, and went straight to work, pouring a drink just as Laila appeared beside me.

"You have a new guy?" she asked, nodding toward JJ. "What happened to the old one?"

I smirked, shaking my head. "Long story, Laila." We'd need a three-hour sit-down to explain everything. Or I could just tell her the truth: the old one turned out to be a murderer. But that wasn't a conversation I wanted to have right now.