The Wedding Party

Part 82: A Picture

"Helena!" Preston's voice echoed off the walls, causing Brandt to glance over his shoulder.

"Your time will come," Brandt whispered before disappearing into the darkness.

"Helena, where are you?" Preston called again.

"Here," she replied hoarsely, anger surging through her. She lunged for Preston's gun, intent on pursuing Brandt, but he caught her wrist firmly.

"Let me go!" she cried, desperation making her voice tremble. "He killed her, Preston! I have to stop him!"

"Helena, we need a plan," Preston urged, his grip unwavering. "Rushing after him won't bring Macey back."

Meanwhile, at the bar, Layne Barry carefully cleaned Braeden's wounds, her hands steady despite the tense atmosphere. "You're lucky it's not worse," she murmured, brow furrowed with concern. "We should get you to the clinic on the mainland."

"Brandt's back?" Zackary demanded, his tone accusing as he glared at Olive. "And you sent Helena to the Manor alone?"

"Zackary, I didn't know!" Olive protested, her voice rising in defense.

Ashleigh stared out of the window, scanning the horizon for any sign of Killian and Alanna. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of fear and anxiety, her chest tightening with each passing second. "Please let them be okay," she whispered under her breath, willing her friends to return safely.

Outside, Killian gently supported Alanna as they approached Layne's car. The moonlight illuminated her pained expression, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt.

"Hey, I'm sorry about the makeshift bandage," he said, nodding toward her wound. "I did my best with what we had."

Alanna managed a weak smile. "You did a good job, Killian. Thank you." Her voice was soft, betraying her exhaustion.

"Alright, let's find that sailboat." Killian started the engine, and they sped off into the night, leaving behind the unsettling events at the Manor.

Meanwhile, Preston and Miguel carefully loaded Macey's lifeless body into her SUV. Helena stood nearby, her eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and determination. "Before she died," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "Macey told me that Brandt made a deal with her."

Preston looked up, his eyes filled with empathy. "I'm so sorry, Helena."

As they finished securing Macey's body, Helena searched the SUV for the keys. Underneath a pile of papers, she found an old high school photograph of herself, its edges worn from years of handling. She clenched it in her fist, anger bubbling within her. "He's not going to get away with this," she vowed, storming off in search of Brandt once more.

"Helena!" Preston called after her, concern etched on his face.

Inside the bar, Jairo approached Amelia, curiosity overwhelming him. "How did you meet Brandt?"

Amelia hesitated, her eyes downcast. "He... he befriended me. He seemed kind at first, but now..."

"Did he know Papa Darrel?" Jairo asked gently.

"No," Amelia stammered, tears welling in her eyes. "He was murdered, wasn't he?"

Jairo sighed, unwilling to sugarcoat the truth. "Yes, Amelia. I'm sorry."

"Is Helena going to be okay?" Amelia's voice trembled with fear.

"Helena's strong," Jairo reassured her. "She'll do everything she can to make sure we're all safe."

Outside, Helena's anger fueled her steps as she prepared to confront Brandt once again. She rounded a corner and Preston grabbed her wrist.

"Helena, stop!" he pleaded. "We can't just rush into this. We need to think it through."

"Every second we wait, he's out there, free to hurt more people!" Helena snapped, her frustration reaching its peak.

"Let's regroup and figure this out together," Preston urged, unwilling to let his friend charge into danger. Reluctantly, Helena agreed, knowing that they would need each other to face what lay ahead.