Page 105 of Riptide
"You know what kills me?" Piper said suddenly. "Her captions. 'Living my best life.' 'Grateful for this journey.' Meanwhile she's literally destroying people for money." She held up her phone, showing an old post—Blaire beaming in front of a sunset, champagne glass raised. "This one's from three days after she started blackmailing that guy in Seattle. The one whose wife left him."
"Piper," Tom said again, quieter this time.
"I'm just saying. She's a monster. And she gets to pretend she's some kind of... life coach."
No one argued with her.
Half an hour: Cara reorganized the supply shelf for the third time, then wiped down the table that was already clean before she folded and refolded the same dishtowel over and over, until Reagan gently took it from her hands.
"I could write a worm," Tom said quietly, almost to himself. "Something that would find every copy of her files and corrupt them. Every backup, every cloud server, every?—"
"Tom." Reagan's hand found his shoulder again. "We talked about this."
"I know. I know." He rubbed his eyes. "It's just hard to sit here and do nothing."
"We're not doing nothing. We're being here." Reagan's voice was gentle but firm. "Sometimes that's all you can do."
Fifteen minutes: Wade stopped cleaning his knife and just held it, staring at nothing.
"Whatever happens," he said, not looking at anyone, "we handle it together. That's what teams do."
Cara's throat tightened. "Wade?—"
"I mean it." He finally looked up, met her eyes. "Whatever comes out at midnight—whoever you were before Haven Cove—it doesn't change who you are now. Not to us."
Piper nodded fiercely. "What he said."
Tom and Reagan murmured agreement.
Cara couldn't speak. Could barely breathe around the pressure in her chest.
Piper's leg bounced against the floor, a nervous rhythm she couldn't seem to stop.
Cara's heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears.
Everyone's phones were out. Watching. Waiting.
Midnight.
Cara held her breath.
Nothing.
She refreshed her email. Empty. Refreshed Instagram. Blaire's last post was from yesterday morning—a sunset photo with some inspirational quote about "finding your truth."
12:05. Still nothing.
"Maybe she's building suspense," Piper offered, but her voice was uncertain.
12:10. Tom refreshed the feed again. "No new posts. No stories. Nothing."
"Check if Gabe got anything," Wade said. "She said she'd send him everything."
Cara's fingers trembled as she typed out the text.Did you get anything from Blaire?
The response came thirty seconds later.No. Nothing. You?
Nothing.
