Bound By Lies - Rafe Cameron

Chapter 1

The salty breeze hit my face as I stepped out of the car, the familiar scent of the ocean filling my lungs. It had been over a year since I'd set foot on the Outer Banks, but everything looked the same. Same sand-covered roads, same rundown houses, same old signs advertising shrimp specials at the local diner. It's like the place was frozen in time.

"Welcome home, Teresa." I whispered to myself, gripping the edge of the car door until my knuckles turned white. The small, faded bungalow in front of me was a stark contrast to the lavish estates of Figure Eight. But this house, perched right on the edge of the Cut, had history. My history.

I glanced over at my dad, who was busy unloading boxes, and I could tell he wasn't really here—not emotionally, anyway. He hadn't been since we got the call about Aunt Susan. Sheriff Susan Peterkin, the voice in my head corrected. But I wasn't thinking about her as a sheriff right now; I was thinking about the aunt who would sneak me candy before dinner and let me sit in her office whenever I got in trouble.

"Teresa, you gonna help or what?" my dad asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah. Just... taking it in," I replied, eyes drifting back to the two-story rental we were calling home. It was far from fancy—peeling white paint, crooked shutters—but it was ours. No more bouncing around between relatives. No more sympathy glances or awkward condolences. Just... home.

I grabbed a box labeled "Teresa's Junk" and headed inside, the stairs creaking under each step. The first room on the right was mine. I hesitated at the doorway, a feeling of déjà vu creeping in. It looked the same as I'd left it—a bed shoved against the far wall, chipped blue paint, and a window overlooking the street below. Except now it was empty, stripped of anything that belonged to me.

The last time I was here, everything had been different. I'd been a carefree Pogue, running around with JJ, Kie, and the others, thinking we had all the time in the world. Before everything went to hell. Before Aunt Susan's death, and before I left.

And before John B.

The memory of him made my stomach twist with a mix of anger and confusion. I still couldn't believe he'd done it—killed her. My aunt. Sweet Aunt Susan, who'd never hurt anyone. And now he was on the run, hiding like the criminal he was.

"Teresa?"

I turned, realizing Dad was standing behind me, staring at something in his hand. A picture. It was one of the last we took before I left. Aunt Susan, Dad, and me at the beach, laughing.

"She'd want us to be happy," he said quietly, his voice thick.

"I know." I swallowed hard. "I miss her."

"Me too." He cleared his throat and looked away, stuffing the photo into his pocket. "Let's get you settled in."

As we started unpacking, I let my mind wander, trying to ignore the knot in my chest. Moving back was supposed to be a fresh start, but it didn't feel like it. It felt like stepping back into a nightmare I hadn't woken up from yet.

The Outer Banks might look the same, but nothing here would ever be the way it was.

Not with the shadows of the past clinging to every corner, whispering secrets I wasn't sure I wanted to uncover.

By the time we'd lugged the last box inside, sweat was dripping down my back, and my muscles ached. Dad disappeared into the tiny kitchen, emerging a moment later with two cold sodas. He handed me one, and I took it gratefully, cracking open the tab and taking a long sip.

We stood there in silence for a few minutes, just breathing and taking in the place that was supposed to be our new beginning. I could feel the weight of what he wasn't saying hanging between us, thicker than the humidity outside.