mess it up, ˢᵃᵐ ᶜᵃʳᵖᵉⁿᵗᵉʳ

𝟎𝟏𝟑.

The air was cold and heavy, thick with the kind of tension that makes your chest tighten before anything even happens.

Two Ghostfaces stood flanking Detective Wayne Bailey, who looked disturbingly relaxed in their company.

He laughed, like this was all just a game, and threw his arms around them.

"Great work, both of you."

The words hit like a gunshot.

Tara, Sam, and Madison froze, staring in disbelief. Their breathing quickened in unison, hearts thudding like drums against their ribs.

"You?" Tara's voice cracked from shock, barely able to believe it.

Wayne grinned, like it was obvious. "Of course me. Frankly, I expected more from you three, after what you did to us."

"Us?" Madison echoed, her voice small, confused.

Her brain was already trying to piece together a thousand possibilities at once, but none of them were making any damn sense.

The Ghostface on Wayne's left reached up and pulled
off his mask.

Ethan.

The air left Madison's lungs.

Her stomach dropped, and she staggered back a half step like she'd been hit.

She knew something had always been off about him, the way he watched, how he always appeared a little too interested, a little too quiet.

She'd chalked it up to paranoia, a residual scar from Woodsboro. But now? Now she had her answer.

"Mindy was right," Ethan sneered, "it was easy to juke the roommate lottery. All I had to do to meet you was room with a conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad."

His voice rose, shrill and vicious. "Fuck, it felt good to kill him!"

Madison's breath hitched. Her blood boiled like oil in her veins. Chad.

Her brother.

She wanted to scream. Wanted to lunge at him.

She wanted to rip him apart.

Ethan's eyes gleamed as he raised a worn mask in his gloved hand.

"This one was your grandmother's, Sam. Nancy Loomis. Really runs in the fucking family, doesn't it? And speaking of family, my name's not Ethan Landry, is it, Dad?"

Wayne smiled, proud. The girls all gasped. It was the kind of realization that leaves you cold, like the floor's just dropped out from under you.

"Dad?" Madison whispered. She felt physically ill.

As if that wasn't enough, Sam turned her eyes toward the second Ghostface, doing the math. The room shifted, grew darker, more suffocating.

"That just leaves... Mindy?" she asked, barely above a whisper.

Madison's heart stopped.

No.

No, that couldn't be right. Her head whipped toward her girlfriend, fiancé?, instinctively, denial clawing through her chest.

But the second Ghostface reached up, and pulled off the mask.

Quinn.

"Hey, roomies. Madison." Her voice was smug, mocking. "Didn't see that one coming, did you?"

Madison blinked in disbelief, mouth falling open.

"But... you died," Tara stammered, her voice shaking.