mess it up, ˢᵃᵐ ᶜᵃʳᵖᵉⁿᵗᵉʳ

𝟎𝟏𝟏.

As Kirby swung open the second door, her voice echoed in the vast emptiness of the theater lobby. "I cleared the whole place before you got here. This is the only way in or out."

The cold certainty in her tone made Sam's shoulders tighten.

Madison, standing beside her, felt her stomach knot.

They all nodded, but tension lingered thick in the air,
like a storm waiting to break. Kirby stepped further into the room, her eyes scanning the entryway like a soldier reporting from the battlefield.

"He steps through the first door, and both doors automatically lock, trapping him inside. We turned it into a kill box."

Sam's expression hardened. There was no time to waste. "Weapons?"

"Only one gun," Kirby replied. "And I hold onto it."

The group exchanged uneasy glances, their bodies tensing, ready to protest.

Kirby cut them off. "I'm the only one with a badge here. That's how it's gonna be. We're safe in here."

She smiled, trying to be reassuring, but it barely reached her eyes.

Safe.

The word felt like a lie. Like bait wrapped in hope.

Sam didn't argue, she couldn't afford to. Instead, she sighed and reached for her jacket, pulling it off.

She helped Madison out of hers too, her fingers brushing the soft skin of Madison's arms, grounding herself in the contact.

Even that simple gesture felt heavy now.

They slipped quietly into a side room, one of many that once held props and stage lighting, now steeped in darkness and dread.

Madison tried calling Mindy. Then again. Then again. Each time: no answer. Her signal was shit, the silence on the other end more terrifying than any ringtone.

Sam dropped her head into her hands, the weight of the night pressing down like a vice.

Madison watched her unravel and stepped in. Gently, she took Sam's trembling hands away from her face and folded them into her own.

"Sam, hey, listen," she whispered, her voice steady but soft. "Everything's gonna be okay. But—"

"Please," Sam cut her off, shaking her head. "No buts. I'm gonna be fine, Mads. And so are you."

She wasn't sure who she was trying to convince, Madison, or herself.

But Madison didn't back down. "Please just let me finish."

Sam nodded, jaw clenched.

"If I don't make it... if," Madison repeated, swallowing the fear tightening her throat, "then I want you to know I love you, Samantha Carpenter. So fucking much."

Tears welled in her eyes.

"I never stopped loving you, not when you left for five years, not when you came back and I pretended to hate you. You're my person. And even if I don't make it... that won't change. If you come out of this without me—"

"No," Sam said, voice firm.

"Then I want you to know something," Madison continued, holding her breath like she might shatter if she let it out. "In my apartment... go into my closet. There's a ring box."

Sam's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat.

"I brought it with me from Woodsboro. Dewey gave it to me. It was his grandmother's. I brought it to New York because—" she faltered, "because part of me knew we'd make up. I wanted to be your wife."