JUDAS

INTRO

Cass hadn't planned on coming back. Not for her mother, not for anyone. But there she was, pulling her battered old sedan into the drive of a house that hadn't felt like home in over a decade. The paint was peeling off the porch, the windows fogged and cracked, and the roof sagged in places she didn't want to look at for too long. It was a skeleton of what it once was. Just like the woman inside.

The air felt different here. Heavy and thick, like it was waiting for something bad to happen. Cass shut off the car and just sat for a minute, gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. She could already feel the past creeping up on her, the memories clawing their way out of the shadows, refusing to stay buried. It was stupid to think she could ever really escape this place. The town had its hooks in her long before she ever learned how to fight back.

When she finally forced herself out of the car, the smell of sun-baked asphalt hit her, mingling with the faint, familiar scent of desert sage. It was quiet, the only sounds a distant crow and the crunch of gravel under her boots. The house loomed ahead, like it was daring her to enter. She didn't want to be here—she barely recognized the person she was becoming by even setting foot on that porch.

But her mother needed her, or so she'd been told. Cancer, or so the hospice nurse had said over the phone, her voice flat and businesslike. Terminal. Cass had almost laughed at that. Her mother had always seemed invincible. She was the kind of woman who didn't feel pain, or at least didn't admit to it. Cass doubted she'd even have bothered to call if she'd known. She was only here because of that damn nurse.

The door creaked open under her hand, and the smell of antiseptic and stale air hit her full force. She froze, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness. The house was nearly as empty as she felt. A few worn pieces of furniture sat around the room, looking just as out of place as she felt. And in the corner, hooked up to a silent oxygen tank, was her mother—frail, barely a shadow of the woman Cass remembered.

"Cass," her mother croaked, a thin smile pulling at her cracked lips. It sounded almost like a question, as if she wasn't entirely sure this wasn't a dream.

Cass swallowed, forcing herself to nod. She stepped closer, hesitating just out of reach. "Yeah. I'm here."

Her mother's eyes flickered with something Cass couldn't quite place. Regret, maybe? It had been so long since she'd seen any kind of softness in those eyes that it was hard to tell. Cass waited, not sure what she was waiting for, but her mother just closed her eyes and leaned back, as if the sight of her daughter was both a relief and a burden.

________________________________________

The next few hours passed in an uneasy quiet. Cass unpacked her single bag, filled a glass of water for her mother, and sat in the kitchen, nursing her own cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. She was getting ready to call it a night when she heard a knock at the door.

Her heart sank, a cold sense of dread settling over her. She hadn't been back in town for more than a few hours, and already it felt like someone knew, like they were watching. She hesitated, staring at the door like it might bite her, but the knocking came again—louder this time.

She opened it just a crack, but it was enough to see the figure on the other side.

"Luke."

He looked the same. Same dark hair, same piercing eyes that always saw too much. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well. I thought I'd be the last person you'd want to see."

She didn't have the energy for this. Not tonight. "I don't have time for whatever game you're playing. It's late."

He raised his hands in mock surrender, but the smile didn't fade. "Easy, Cass. I just came by to say welcome back. Figured you'd need all the support you could get."