The Duskwater Stags!

Lucas ended the call with Freya, the screen dimming in his hand. He looked up at Valeria, who sat on the back of his bike, arms still tense, water bottle half-drunk.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low but clear. “Can you handle yourself for a minute?”

Valeria nodded slowly, wiping under her eyes. “Yeah. I’m not gonna fall apart or anything.”

“I need to grab something before they show up,” Lucas said, already turning back toward the woods. “Won’t be long.”

“Go,” she said, steady now. “Just be quick.”

Lucas nodded once, then ran.

The woods swallowed him within seconds. The ground still carried signs of struggle—marks in the dirt, bent branches, blood darkening the soil. He retraced his steps, eyes locked forward until he reached the clearing.

The tree stood like a grave monument.

Diego’s body still hung there, motionless. The crimson smeared down the bark looked almost black now. Lucas kept his distance, squinting at the spot beneath the body where the paper had been.

There.

He stepped in carefully, grabbed the crumpled note, and shoved it into his jacket pocket without reading it. He didn’t need answers now—he just needed to make sure it didn’t disappear before he was ready.

As he turned to leave, he glanced back once, eyes sharp, checking for anyone watching.

Nothing but trees.

He jogged back, boots crushing twigs, heart racing—not from fear, but from the tension curling in his gut.

---

Valeria looked up the second she saw him break through the tree line. “You good?”

Lucas gave a short nod. “Yeah.”

And then they heard it.

Sirens. Distant at first, but fast approaching. Within seconds, the unmistakable growl of heavy tires filled the air as four black police SUVs rumbled down the dirt road and came to a grinding stop.

The doors swung open almost at once. Every cop that stepped out was armed, serious, sharp-eyed like they’d been called to a hostage scene—not a murder.

Lucas and Valeria backed a step as the squad fanned out, instantly scanning the perimeter, some talking into radios, others gripping rifles at rest.

From the lead SUV, a tall figure stepped out—Uncle Frank.

Sturdy build. Stubble on his chin. Heavy leather boots. Holster visible at his side. His eyes locked on Lucas immediately, sharp and unblinking.

“Lucas,” Frank said, stepping toward him with a firm gait. “Where’s the body?”

Lucas nodded toward the woods. “Around 200 meters in. Follow the drag marks and blood trail. You’ll see it.”

Frank stared at him a second longer, then gave a curt nod. “Stay here. Both of you.”

Then he turned and motioned for two officers. “With me. Now.”

Guns drawn low, they moved into the trees without another word.

Outside the woods, eight more officers had spread across the area, checking underbrush, scanning the lake’s edge, and taking statements from nearby students and locals who’d gathered at a distance. Radios crackled. Gloves snapped on. Yellow tape started going up.

One of the officers—a younger guy with sharp eyes and a trimmed beard—peeled off from the group and made his way toward Lucas and Valeria. He walked with a casual stride, hand resting near his belt, not aggressive—just alert.

“Lucas Hartwell,” the cop said, tilting his head. “Didn’t expect to see you out here.”

Lucas nodded once. “Didn’t expect to find a dead friend in the woods either.”

The officer offered a half-smile. “Fair enough. Your dad’s good, by the way. Helped me with some shelving last month.”

Valeria just watched quietly, eyes flicking between them.

The officer’s expression grew more serious. “So… why were you two out here? You weren’t following Diego, were you?”

Lucas shook his head. “We were looking for him. He didn’t show up at school. I figured he’d be here—this used to be his spot. Mine too.”

The cop nodded, taking mental notes.

“Did you see anyone else? Anything out of place? Anything that might help with the investigation?”

Lucas paused just a little too long.

He remembered the note. Its folded edge pressing against his chest inside his jacket. Every instinct told him not to mention it. Not yet.

He met the officer’s eyes and gave a calm, practiced shake of the head. “Nothing. Just… the body.”

The officer studied him for a second—maybe suspicious, maybe just tired. Then he glanced at Valeria, who didn’t say a word, just hugged herself tightly.

“Alright,” the officer said, backing off. “If anything comes to mind, you know where to find us.”

Lucas nodded once. “Yeah.”

The cop walked away, calling something into his radio.

Valeria looked at Lucas, her voice a whisper. “You didn’t tell him about the paper.”

“I know,” Lucas said quietly. “Not yet.”

A low, throaty purr echoed in the air—rising above the murmurs of police radios and rustling leaves.

Andres Reyes rolled in on his bright red Italika Vort-X, the kind of bike that practically growled with attitude. Chrome exhaust, exposed frame, worn leather seat. It wasn’t polished, but it was damn loud, and very, very Andrés.

Behind him, Freya gripped the sides casually, her black ponytail swinging gently in the breeze.

They cut the engine and climbed off, boots crunching the gravel as they walked toward Lucas and Valeria.

Andrés whistled low, eyes drifting over the scene—the cop cars, the crime scene tape stretching toward the woods, the officers pacing like something big was still unraveling.

“Okay,” he muttered. “What the hell happened here?”

Lucas glanced at him, his face unreadable. “It’s Diego. We found him. By the tree. It wasn’t an accident, Andrés… it was brutal.”

Andrés blinked, confused for a second—then realization hit. “Diego? Dead? Wait—here?”

Freya’s arms folded, her voice quiet but steady. “He was murdered?” as Lucas looks at Freya and doesn't say anything as they already understood the situation.

Andrés looked between them, the weight sinking into his chest. “Shit…”

Valeria stayed silent, hugging herself again as Lucas continued, leaving out the part about the note.

“The cops are inside. Uncle Frank’s leading it.”

There was silence. The kind that settles in when there’s nothing else left to say.

Freya broke it, her voice soft. “We found out what happened to Liam, too.”

Lucas looked over. “Yeah?”

“He was choked to death. Between 10 PM and midnight. They kept it vague. Didn’t even talk about injuries. The principal just called it murder and wrapped it in some half-assed speech about safety.”

Andrés whistled. “Damn. First Liam. Now Diego.”

“Today’s a full day off,” Freya added. “Tomorrow’s half-day. Optional attendance.”

“Basketball court was full of students,” she continued. “The Duskwater Stags were front and center. Tense as hell. One of them stood up and practically yelled at the principal. They’re pissed, scared… and maybe more.”

Lucas nodded slowly. “They lost two teammates in less than twenty-four hours.”

Again, silence fell. The kind that gets under your skin and stays there.

Then—

Andrés clapped his hands together suddenly, loud enough to startle Valeria.

“Okay, look,” he said. “I know this is bad. Really bad. But can we all agree on one thing?”

Everyone looked at him.

He raised a hand. “We are never coming to this lake again. I don’t care how peaceful it is—next time I’m trying to relax, I’m doing it in a damn 7-Eleven parking lot.”

Freya let out a snort.

Valeria smirked.

Lucas didn’t laugh, but the corner of his mouth twitched—just slightly.

The trees rustled as footsteps emerged from the woods. Uncle Frank stepped out first, holding his radio up to his mouth, his face pale but composed. He didn’t look directly at anyone as he spoke into the device.

“Get the forensic team out here. Now. Full sweep. We’ve got a scene.”

His boots crunched onto the gravel. His usual calm, no-nonsense face carried something heavier this time—something shaken. A kind of haunted tension that said he’d seen many things in his life… but nothing quite like this.

Frank turned toward the rest of the cops gathered near the road.

“Alright. You two,” he pointed at a pair standing near their car, “start checking both roads. Every turnoff, every path. The rest of you, back into the woods. Check for drag trails, blood splatter, anything. No engagement, just observe and report. Radio in if you see anything.”

The cops nodded and moved.

Frank let out a slow breath, then turned to face Lucas, Valeria, Freya, and Andrés.

He walked straight to Valeria first.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Valeria,” he said gently, his voice stripped of the usual gruffness. “That… no one should’ve had to see something like that.”

Valeria gave a faint nod, still hugging herself.

Then he looked at Lucas—his tone tightening just a bit, but not cold.

“And you—” he pointed slightly, “—you’ve got a record of ignoring warnings, so I’m saying this clearly. Stay out of those woods. No detours. No ‘figuring it out yourself.’ Not this time.”

Lucas didn’t argue. He just nodded, jaw tight.

“I should take both of you in to the station,” Frank continued, glancing between Lucas and Valeria, “for questioning. Standard procedure. But… I know you both. I know your families. So I’m not gonna drag you through that today.”

Lucas stayed silent a beat. Then asked softly, “Do you know what happened to Liam?”

Frank hesitated.

Then he gave a slow nod. “Choked. By hands. There were bruises—clear hand marks. No fingerprints though. Whoever did it wore gloves. No other injuries. No scratches. No bruises. Nothing but the choke.”

The group didn’t say anything.

Then Frank added, quieter, more to himself than anyone else:

“It’s starting to feel connected. Like someone’s… measuring their actions. Escalating.”

He looked at Lucas. “You got any theories?”

Lucas looked up at him, then down at the ground.

“The Duskwater Stags.” His voice was sure. “They’re not talking. But they know something. Even if they’re not involved… they’re in the middle of it.”

Frank watched him carefully.

Lucas kept going. “I don’t know how to explain it. Just this gut feeling, man. And the way Diego was killed? This isn’t over. There’s gonna be a third one. Maybe it’s already happened. Maybe it’s about to. But it’s coming.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Frank’s lips pressed into a hard line. His voice was low, but firm.

“If you’re right… it means we’re already two steps behind.”

Lucas nodded. “Then we need to start running.”

Frank gave him a look—one that sat between proud and concerned.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Lucas. I know you wanna help, but this is different. This is real. If you hear something, find something—come to me. No hero shit. Got it?”

Lucas looked him dead in the eye.

“Got it.”

But the tension in his jaw said otherwise.

Frank gave Lucas one last look before nodding and turning away, barking orders into his radio as he moved back toward the officers.

The moment he left, the group finally let their shoulders drop—just a little.

Andrés was the first to break the silence.

“Okay. So, just to recap… two murders in twenty-four hours. And now we’re talking about a third one like it’s on some twisted college calendar. What’s next? 'Murder Monday' with free donuts?”

Valeria chuckled, that flirty twinkle back in her eyes. “If I die next, someone better make sure my hair looks good and my lips are glossed.”

Freya rolled her eyes but smirked. “You’re fine, Val. No one’s killing you. You’re too loud to sneak up on.”

Even Lucas let out a small laugh—just a second of ease. But it didn’t last.

The smile faded as he looked around at all three of them. His expression turned sharp, focused.

“We’re going to my place.”

He looked at Freya and gave a small motion of his head. She knew the signal. No arguments.

“Let’s go,” he added.

Freya hopped on the back of his bike without a word. Lucas gave Andrés a glance, and he understood instantly. Andrés and Valeria climbed onto the Italika as Lucas kicked up his stand and revved his engine.

The two bikes peeled off down the road, wind against their faces, sun breaking gently through the tree canopy.

---

Freya leaned closer into Lucas, her arms around his waist.

“You’re tense,” she said near his ear. “What’s going on?”

Lucas kept his eyes on the road.

“I might’ve found something,” he said flatly.

Freya sat up a little. “Like… important?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

“We’ll talk inside,” he said finally. “At my house.”

---

Ten minutes later, they pulled up to a small but cozy house tucked at the end of a quiet street. A white fence, clay roof, garden full of blooming green and dusty rose. A windchime jingled above the porch.

Lucas parked first. Andrés rolled up right beside him.

They got off the bikes, walking up to the front steps just as Mrs. Hartwell opened the door—short red curls, an apron on, wiping her hands on a towel.

Her eyes lit up. “Well, look who it is!”

“Hey, Mrs. Hartwell,” Andrés said brightly, smiling. “You’re still the best cook in all of Duskwater.”

She laughed. “You only say that when you’re hungry.”

Lucas stepped forward, voice low. “Mom, we just need to hang out in my room for a bit. Some class stuff. Everyone’s got the day off.”

She noticed the stiffness in his tone, but didn’t push it.

“Alright. Just don’t make a mess.” She turned to Freya and Valeria. “You two want anything? Juice, something cold?”

“We’re good, thank you,” Freya replied politely.

Valeria gave a small smile. “Water’s perfect.”

Lucas slipped away down the hallway toward the bathroom.

As soon as he was out of sight, Andrés leaned toward Mrs. Hartwell and whispered like he couldn’t help himself.

“Okay, so, just so you’re not confused—we kinda found a body.”

Mrs. Hartwell blinked.

“And not just, like, a ‘he took a nap and didn’t wake up’ kind of body. Like a full-on, this-isn’t-an-accident kinda thing. Blood. A lot. Like… horror movie vibes.”

Freya smacked his arm. “Andrés!”

Andrés winced. “I’m just saying! She’s gonna wonder why we’re pale and acting like ghosts with social anxiety.”

Mrs. Hartwell raised a brow, half-worried, half-mother-mode activated. “Are you all okay?”

Valeria gently nodded. “We’re fine. Shaken, but fine.”

Mrs. Hartwell sighed. “Alright… I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

Lucas stepped out of the bathroom just then, wiping his face with a towel, the edges of exhaustion tucked beneath his eyes. He caught the tail end of Andrés’s dramatic retelling and didn’t even comment—just gave him a look.

Then he gently touched his mom’s shoulder.

“It was bad, Mom. What we saw… it was really bad.”

She placed her hand over his for a second—comfort without words—then gave him space.

Lucas led them all upstairs, each step quieter than the last. The hallway was filled with framed memories—photos of camping trips, family dinners, his old basketball jersey from junior year.

He pushed open the door to his room.

It wasn’t anything extravagant. A clean bed, posters of old bands and classic muscle cars, books stacked along the shelves. His guitar sat in the corner, half-buried in yesterday’s hoodie.

Andrés dropped onto the study chair, letting it spin once before stopping himself with his foot.

Freya and Valeria settled on the bed—Freya upright, alert, Valeria flopping back like it was her own room.

Lucas shut the door behind them. Then… clicked the lock.

That got their attention.

He cleared his throat, then reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“I found something,” he said quietly. “Under Diego’s body.”

The folded, slightly blood-speckled note slid out, delicate in his fingers.

Freya's eyes snapped to it. “Wait—you took it? Why didn’t you give it to Uncle Frank? Or at least read it and leave it there?!”

Lucas didn’t flinch. “I didn’t want my fingerprints on it. And I couldn’t leave it. I had to know what it said.”

Andrés leaned forward, voice lower now. “You know, we probably shouldn’t be involved in this…”

Then he paused. Looked around. And added, “…but what if we already are? What if this drags us in whether we like it or not?”

Valeria let out a soft, bored sigh and lay back onto the bed, stretching one leg lazily and inspecting her nails.

“This is a lot of drama before lunch.”

Freya threw her a look. “Are you even listening?”

Valeria smirked. “You’d have taken it too.”

Freya opened her mouth… then shut it. She wasn’t wrong.

Lucas unfolded the paper.

He stared at it for a second. Blinked. Then said, flatly—

“It’s not a letter. It’s a message.”

The room tensed.

Lucas held it up, the scrawled handwriting visible to no one else as he began to read out loud.

> “I’m not stopping until the Duskwater Stags are sorry for what they did. I’m gonna kill every last one of them.”

The silence that followed was thick.

Heavy.

Cold.

Even Valeria slowly sat up.

Freya’s hands had gone still in her lap.

Andrés leaned back in the chair, the color drained from his face. “Okay,” he said quietly, “so it’s personal. Like… really personal.”

The room suddenly didn’t feel like a safe space anymore. The air was tighter. Heavier. Like something was already watching them.

Lucas folded the note again, slower this time.

“Someone’s hunting them.”

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