The dining hall had been rebuilt. Polished wood, soft lighting, wine glasses that rang too sharply in the stillness. But the layout hadn’t changed. The long table. The same old chandelier. Even the smell was wrong: rosemary and sage where there had once been blood and bleach. Lena sat at the far end of the table- silent, unblinking- as the survivors filtered in one by one.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYQcV5kdZIj
Mara Alden was the first. Now a successful influencer, she arrived in a storm of perfume and designer guilt. Her laugh was too loud, her hug too tight, and she didn’t mention the fire at all. “God, it’s so weird being back, right?” Mara said, taking a seat across from Lena. “I mean, this place is- like- fully gentrified trauma. I swear I almost had a panic attack in the garden.”12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8eC94Q8GKl
Lena didn’t respond. Just nodded once, sharply. Tori Jennings was next. Quiet. Still hunched. She had a tremor in her hand now, and Lena noticed her flinch when a waiter passed too close. Tori’s eyes met hers for a fraction of a second before she looked away. Guilt, maybe. Or fear.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAtFOtzMCzL
Harper Easton came in smiling. She hadn’t changed much. Same long, dark hair. Same predator’s gaze. She air-kissed Mara, rolled her eyes at Tori, and when she saw Lena- “Oh,” she said. “You’re still alive.” Lena just stared.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSJN1ZSeMep
“Didn’t think you’d show up, sweetheart. Or maybe you had to. Guilt’s a strong motivator, yeah?”12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHZI0slsQM7
Mara tensed. Tori looked down. No one laughed. The fourth girl didn’t come in. Rowan Bell had RSVP’d. But her seat stayed empty. They were supposed to be 24. 5 arrived. The other 19 had already been here for nine years. Buried.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbrnlUVCIgM
Dinner was served like this was a celebration, not a summoning. Braised lamb. Red wine. Candied figs. The silverware gleamed like scalpels. “I keep dreaming about it,” Tori said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice cracked. “The fire. The chapel. I-I hear her voice sometimes. Eliza.”12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2gkvhsCSK0
Mara rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Tor. Can we not? Just one night without dredging up the nightmare?”12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5gBtUCZazr
“No,” Tori whispered. “We’re here. That is the nightmare.”12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsFddedYVUw
Lena watched them like a ghost observing the living. Her hand curled around the stem of her wine glass, knuckles pale. She wanted to say something. She wanted to scream it. But her voice was still locked behind that vow. Her therapist had called it selective mutism. But Lena knew better. It was a curse. A punishment. A promise.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEmoZxfmHmJ
“I don’t remember much,” Mara said. “I passed out before the worst of it. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if we- if we even remember it right.”12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgezU95evIj
“No one remembers it right,” Harper said flatly, setting down her fork. “Memories lie. Especially when they’re burned.”12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSzO0mPPd9D
Lena’s fingers twitched. She looked down. The tablecloth had a scorch mark near her plate. She knew it hadn’t been there when she sat down. No one else seemed to notice. Then a scream. High. Sharp. From down the hall. The dining room froze. Mara stood up so fast her chair toppled. “What the hell-” Harper was already moving. Tori followed like a shadow. Lena stayed seated. She already knew what they’d find. Someone had broken the vow. And now someone was dead.
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