The Keys to freedom

Butterfly don't fly away

"You don't seriously believe this, do you?" Oz asked.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"A random letter shows up, supposedly from Dad, saying we're heirs to a long-lost fortune, and you just believe it?" She frowned at him.

"Yeah, I do." He said folding his hands into his pockets.

She crossed her arms. "Then you realize that means Dad's dead, right?"

His eyes widened. "What? No, it doesn't,"

"Then why wouldn't he come home James, why would he leave it for us to finish, why is their blood on the letter?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't automatically mean that he is dead," he griped. "He could just be...laying low,"

She raised an eyebrow. "And the red fingerprints?"

He hesitated. "Maybe he was eating beets."

Oz stared at him, unamused. "Seriously?"

She scoffed, putting the key into her jean pocket. "Your optimism makes me want to puke." Turning, she headed to the back door with frustrated stomps, but before she could open it, James blocked her path, placing a hand on the door.

"If he were dead, we would know—we would feel it." He said, almost trying to convince himself.

But she did feel it. She had felt it for a long time. And deep down, she knew that if James would stop lying to himself, he would feel it too.

"Lozzie, no matter where Dad is right now, this—" he held up the letter in his trembling hands "—this is our way out. This is what's going to save us."

She thought about it for a moment, what are the odds that it could be true? "No," she shot back. "We need to focus on reality not some wild treasure hunt." She pushed the door open and stepped outside, joining the others on the dock where they retreated after the argument with Larry had gotten heated.

James sighed and with a roll of his eyes he followed her. How could she just shrug this off so easily? He thought. He couldn't wrap his head around it, but for now, he decided to let it go.

As she marched across the backyard, her mind swirled with unanswered questions, each one tugging at her thoughts with no one to provide answers. She couldn't afford to dwell on the letter or her father—it was too overwhelming, too tangled with emotions she wasn't ready to face. Instead, she set her sights on the one thing she could get answers to.

"Is the war over?" Eric asked, leaning against a wooden post on the dock.

"Not even close. He raised our rent," James muttered.

"Damn. What are you gonna do?" Grayson asked, casting his fishing line into the water.

"Face reality, I guess," James replied shooting a glance at Oz, who stood nearby, deep in thought.

"Great, whatever that means," Grayson said with a shrug. "You wanna help us fish, Oz?"

She turned her head to him coming out of her trance. "Uh actually, I gotta head out for a bit." she said raising up from the tree she had been leaning on before she started walking back to the house.

"Where?" James asked, but she ignored him.

"What? Who's gonna cook the fish?" Grayson called after her.

"You literally cook fish for a living," Oz laughed, shaking her head. "I'll be back in an hour."

With a quick jog, she headed into the house to change. She knew there was so many other things that needed her current attention, but she had to find Pyke. Either to yell at him or thank him, she hadn't quite decided yet.