Not a ghost. Not a memory.

  Alive. Flesh and blood. Just five yards away.

  Malachi finally stopped. “Kennedy, if you want a minute to talk to him, you can have it,” he said, voice softer but still edged with steel. “I know what a shock this must be for you, seeing him like this after so long. So there must be a few things you want to say.”

  I nodded mutely and stepped forward on shaky legs. My throat tightened until it hurt, and when I reached my father, the words scraped out, nothing more than a choked whisper. “It’s really you.”

  A small smile curved up his lips. “Hello, darling. It’s so good to see you,” he said. He paused, head slowly shaking like he still couldn’t quite believe I was standing in front of him. “I already knew you’d grown up to be a beautiful woman, but seeing you right up close like this… God, you’re breathtaking. I’m so proud of you.”

  I took half a step closer before my knees threatened to give out. “How could you, Dad?”

  Something flickered in his expression, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

  “I tried to explain so many times,” he said, his voice rougher now. “I sent you messages. I wanted you to find me, darling. I wanted you to understand.”

  “Understand what, exactly?” I asked, eyes narrowing. “That you killed people for sport and probably still do? That you let me think you were dead for years? And not just me. Mom and Tessa too.”

  His mouth tightened, but his gaze never left mine. “I had to leave, darling. I couldn’t take it anymore. But leaving you behind… that was always my biggest regret,” he said. “I wanted to take you with me, but it just wasn’t possible. You know that.”

  I noticed he hadn’t addressed what I’d said about him being a killer. It probably didn’t even matter to him; all those innocent lives he’d taken. In his view, they were mere playing pieces in a twisted game.

  His gaze drifted upward, over my shoulder toward Malachi, then back to me. “What have you gotten yourself into here, darling?” he asked. “Do you know who that man is?”

  “Yes. Do you?” I asked.

  “No. I know exactly what he’s been up to, though,” he replied. “I’ve been following it on that little podcast you and Freya started.”

  “His name is Malachi Sieger. Originally Dougherty. Ring a bell?” I asked, brows rising.

  “Dougherty? I don’t know any—” He stopped abruptly, forehead creasing. “Wait. Is he Elijah Dougherty’s son?”

  “Nephew.”

  “Ah. Well, I can see why he might hold some anger toward me,” he said, arching a sparse brow. “Enough to kidnap my daughter and use her as bait to get me here.”

  “You never would’ve returned to Corwin Bay otherwise,” I murmured, shaking my head.

  “Actually, I’ve come back to check on you a couple of times over the years,” he replied. “Disguised, of course, because I wasn’t sure how you’d react to seeing me, given your lack of response to my letters.”

  The breath caught in my throat. “What are you talking about?”

  He frowned, head tilting slightly. “The last time I returned… it must’ve been about four and a half years ago, when you were in your freshman year at CBU. I followed you around for a few weeks, because I wanted to see you all grown up.” He paused, eyes searching my face, like he expected me to be touched by what he was saying. “I was so proud to see you like that. At college. Independent. So smart and beautiful.”

  A cold weight settled in my gut as my mind reached backward, tripping over memories I’d buried deep.

  Feeling eyes on me whenever I walked across campus. The creeping sense that I wasn’t alone even when I couldn’t see anyone else around. The paranoia that had finally driven me over the edge one day.

  All along, I’d believed that paranoia and the subsequent nervous breakdown I suffered stemmed solely from me. That it was a twisted invention of my own mind, which was already fragile after years of grief and anxiety caused by the Carver’s crimes.

  But it wasn’t in my head after all. I was really being stalked for all those weeks in my freshman year, by my own damn father. I’d sensed his sinister presence. Felt it in my bones. And that was what had caused the breakdown in the end.

  “You…” My voice cracked. “That was really you?”

  He nodded. “Like I said, I had to see you with my own eyes. I needed to know you were okay without me,” he said. He paused for a beat. “I never stopped loving you, Kennedy. Never stopped hoping you’d join me one day.”

  I didn’t move. Didn’t reply. Just stayed silent and frozen, mind whirling.

  My father had always been the problem. Always.

  Every single thing I’d suffered over the last ten years could be traced back to him.

  Every childhood panic attack, every sleepless night, every ache in my chest… he was the root of it all. His disappearance and ‘death’ had left me broken for so long, and his secret return to watch over me in my freshman year had shattered whatever fragile healing I’d managed to scrape together, pushing me into a full-on breakdown that landed me in a mental health facility.

  And all of that paled in comparison to the depraved horrors he’d inflicted upon countless others over the last decade as he roamed the country, abducting and killing. Causing unimaginable pain to innocent people just to satisfy his sick cravings.

  My expression didn’t change. But in my mind, a decision had been made.

  I turned to look back at Malachi. “I haven’t been able to hug my dad since I was a child,” I said. “So would it be okay if we did that? Just for a minute?”

  His face darkened, but he gave me a curt nod. “Do whatever you need to do,” he said stiffly. “Mark, keep those hands where I can see them.”

  I turned back to my father and wrapped my arms around him, pressing my face against the rough wool of his jacket. Then I shifted slightly, my mouth brushing the side of his ear.

  “Do you have any knives on you?” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the brook’s rush. “Malachi will never see it coming from me. It’s only you he’s worried about.”

  There was a beat of silence. Then I felt my father’s chest shake with a low, pleased chuckle. “I knew you had it in you, darling,” he murmured back, pride thick in his voice. “Go into my right pocket. Very carefully. Don’t let him see.”

  Keeping my movements slow and deliberate, I slid my hand between us, feeling for the outline of the weapon. My fingers closed around the cool handle, and I eased it free, the motion shielded by our bodies.

  The blade was small, but solid enough to do what I needed. I slipped it into the inside of my jacket sleeve, tucking it against my forearm where the fabric would hide the shape.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Malachi called out.

  I dropped my arms and turned around to face him, keeping my expression neutral.

  Beside me, my father cleared his throat. “All right, Mr. Sieger,” he said. “I’m here with my hands up, just like you requested. Now… tell me what I have to do for you to let me and my daughter go.”

  Malachi smiled thinly. “Actually, I already let Kennedy go. She’s free to walk away from this whenever she wants, and she knows that.” His gaze shifted to me, and I could’ve sworn I spotted a flash of sadness in it. “So she can leave before what happens next, or she can stay and watch. That decision is entirely up to her.”

  I glanced at my father out of the corner of my eye. His lips were twitching slightly, like he was trying to stop himself from smiling. Clearly, he was sure he’d already won.

  “So tell me, then. What exactly happens next?” he asked, loudly and clearly. Under his breath, he quickly whispered to me, barely moving his lips. “Start moving, darling. Act like you’re leaving, and come around behind him. Then stick the knife in his neck.”

  Malachi looked over at me. “What do you want to do, Kennedy? Stay or leave?”

  “Leave,” I said. “But first… one more hug. Just to say goodbye.”

  I didn’t wait for his permission. Just moved closer to my father and leaned in, like I was really going for another hug.

  Then I drove the knife into the side of his neck.

  It went in easier than I expected, hot and soft beneath the pressure, and for a split second, he didn’t move. Didn’t even seem to register what had happened until I yanked the blade out again. Then he finally staggered forward, a ragged gasp ripping from his throat as his hands flew up to claw at the wound.

  When I turned, just for a breath, I saw Malachi. He was still standing in his original spot, eyes wide and locked on me like he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen. It wasn’t quite shock filling his gaze, though. It was something closer to awe.

  My father dropped to his knees beside the brook, eyes bulging with shock and fury. “You ungrateful little brat,” he choked out. “I came back here for you. I came to save you. And you do this?”

  I stood over him, breathing hard. “How many people have you killed, Dad?” I asked as an eerie sense of calm descended over me.

  “I… I don’t know,” he muttered, wincing as he pressed his hand harder on the wound.

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Did you ever do it to protect me? Or anyone else? Or was it all just for fun?”

  He gagged again, more blood spilling from his lips. “I-I really thought you would understand,” he rasped. “You were always my shadow. You… you adored me.”

  “I was a child, you sick freak,” I snapped. “I just wanted to spend time with my dad back then. That’s all!”

  “No. I saw it in you,” he said, eyes narrowing. “The same thing that’s always been in me.”

  “I think that’s just what they call projection, Dad. You desperately wanted a protégé, so you twisted everything I did to fit the story you wanted to believe. But I was never like you. Not like that,” I said. I clenched my jaw and drew in a deep breath before going on, voice thick with emotion. “I won’t deny that I wanted to be like you back then. I was desperate for your approval, and I loved and admired you. But only for the parts it turned out you were faking all along. None of it was real. You were always a monster.”

  His chest was heaving now, struggling for breath. “So you’re really going to let me bleed out here?” he asked. “Your own father? While you stand there claiming you’re not a monster?”

  A shadow appeared in the corner of my vision then, and I snapped my gaze to the side to see Malachi slowly approaching. “Want me to finish it?” he asked in a low voice. “The other day, you said you wanted it to be quick.”

  I nodded and held out the knife with a trembling hand. He took it and crouched beside my father. Then he drove the knife deep into the other side of his neck.

  This time, the process wasn’t drawn out. Just a sharp inhale that ended in a gurgle as the light in my father’s eyes flickered and died. Then he finally fell all the way to the ground, blood pooling around his top half.

  Malachi stood and stepped back, tossing the blade aside. Then he turned to face me, blazing eyes searching mine.

  I blinked, once. Twice. Then I rushed toward him.

  “Please don't leave,” I said, frantically clutching at his jacket and fisting the blood-speckled fabric between my fingers. “There's a way we can play this so that neither of us gets in trouble. So you don’t need to disappear. We can just tell every—”

  He cut me off, gently pressing a finger to my lips. “Don’t worry, Kennedy,” he said softly. “I'm not going anywhere.”

  “You're… you’re not?” I said, voice partially muffled by his touch.

  “The thought of leaving you was killing me,” he said, voice low and raw. “I never wanted to, but in the end… I thought it was the right thing for you. That it was what you needed to be happy. But then I saw you stick your dad with that knife, and I realized I was wrong. And then I knew exactly what I had to do next.”

  “And that is?” I asked breathlessly.

  “Stay here. Be with you. As long as I’m alive,” he said, his voice low and steady. “So that’s what I’m going to do. And I’m going to fix all of this. No one will ever know what you did here tonight.”

  My eyes widened. “You have a plan?”

  “Yeah, I do.” His mouth quirked upward in a faint, wicked smile. “And so do you, by the sound of it.”

  I nodded slowly. “I have an idea, at least.”

  “You can tell me in a minute. But first…”

  His hand slid from my lips to the side of my face, thumb brushing gently across my cheekbone. I hadn’t even realized I was crying until he wiped away a tear.

  “I need to do this,” he murmured.

  Then he kissed me.

  His fingers threaded into my hair, pulling me closer as his mouth claimed mine, fierce and consuming. My knees nearly gave out, and I clung to him, my hands fisting in the back of his jacket as I kissed him like I needed it to breathe.

  When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. “Whatever happens next… we’re in this together now. You and me.”

  I nodded, heart thudding in my chest. “Together.”

  He took my hand and squeezed it. “That old shrink of mine was wrong,” he said, voice turning low and rough. “He told me I don’t feel love. That I’m incapable of it. But I think he was full of shit.”

  I blinked up at him, caught off guard by his words.

  “Because this… what I feel for you,” he went on. “I know it doesn’t look like what other people call love. But it’s still fucking love at the end of the day. I know that now.”

  I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

  “And you, baby,” Malachi continued, brushing his fingers down the side of my neck. “You don’t need flowers and fairytales. You need a twisted, fucked-up kind of love. The kind that I can give you.”

  “I think you’re the only one who can,” I murmured, finally finding my tongue.

  He flashed me a wolfish grin. Then he crushed his lips back down to mine and kissed me until the world blurred and there was nothing left but blood, breath, and the delicious burn of us.

  Transcript from ‘After the Carver’ – Kennedy’s Return

  [Intro music: low piano over wind and faint static, growing slowly louder then fading under speech]

  FREYA:

  Hey everyone, and welcome back to After the Carver. I’m beyond thrilled, and honestly a little emotional, to be joined by my best friend once again… the one and only Kennedy Campbell.

  KENNEDY:

  Hi, everyone. It’s great to be back, and I wanted to say that I’m so grateful for all the love and support I’ve received over the last few weeks. It means more than I can ever explain.

  FREYA:

  We’re also joined in the studio by Detective Malachi Sieger of Corwin Bay PD. For those who haven’t already seen this on the news, Detective Sieger was the one who found Kennedy.

  MALACHI:

  Thanks for having me.

  FREYA:

  Detective, if you hadn't shown up that night, things could’ve gone very differently. Kennedy has repeatedly said that you saved her life.

  MALACHI:

  I was just doing my job.

  KENNEDY:

  He's being modest. If he wasn't there that night… I honestly don't know if I'd be sitting here right now.

  MALACHI:

  [Chuckles] Okay, you two need to stop before my ego gets too big.

  FREYA:

  [Light laugh] Fair.

  All right, let’s get into it.

  Kennedy, we decided not to script this, because we thought it was best that everyone hear your story in your own words.

  KENNEDY:

  Yeah, that felt like the right way to do it.

  FREYA:

  So… let’s start at the beginning. Can you take us back to the night you were abducted?

  KENNEDY:

  I woke up and saw a masked man in my bedroom. I tried to run, but he was much faster and stronger than me, so I was no match. He stuck a needle in my neck. After that, I was out cold.

  FREYA:

  God, that’s horrifying.

  KENNEDY:

  I eventually woke up in some sort of underground cell, and the masked man was there waiting for me. He told me his name was Jack, but I could tell that wasn’t his real name.

  FREYA:

  At that stage, did you have any clue who he really was?

  KENNEDY:

  None whatsoever. The mask hid everything, and he used one of those voice synthesizers to disguise his real voice.

  FREYA:

  Ah, like in the Scream movies?

  KENNEDY:

  Yeah, just like that.

  Anyway, he told me this wild story about being the Carver. Said he’d killed eight people a decade ago, and that he’d also held my father along with Christopher Miles, Silas Boone, Brian Delgado, and Heather Voss for the last ten years. He called them his playthings.

  FREYA:

  Ugh, that makes my skin crawl. Especially now that we know the truth about those five…

  KENNEDY:

  At first, I believed him. I had no reason not to, of course. Not until things started to fall apart.

  FREYA:

  So what did he say when you asked why he’d taken you?

  KENNEDY:

  He claimed that my father had managed to escape his underground cell. So he decided to kill the other four, because he thought they’d somehow aided in the escape, and he wanted to punish them. Then he decided to kidnap me and force me to record that message to lure my father out of hiding.

  FREYA:

  When did you first start to get an inkling that the masked man was lying to you about everything? That he was actually your father all along, pretending to be another man?

  KENNEDY:

  I figured it out on the night of the meetup. Just as we arrived at the brook, he told me he needed to get something that he’d hidden nearby. Then he walked back into the woods and left me standing there alone, by the water.

  FREYA:

  So… he had you locked in a cell for days, obviously not wanting you to get away from him. And then he just left you standing alone in a forest?