Me and the Devil

33.

The HMS Pogue slices through the water, the gentle hum of the engine doing little to drown out the tension sitting heavy in the air. Kiara sits at the bow, her arms tightly crossed, staring ahead like she can will the answers to appear on the horizon. Pope grips the tiller with white-knuckled intensity, his jaw set in a way that makes me think he’s replaying every decision that led us here.

JJ sits at the stern, slouched but tense, sunglasses hiding his eyes. His silence is louder than any argument, the space between us filled with unspoken words.

I sit beside him, knees tucked to my chest, trying not to let the weight of the group’s doubt crush me. Even though JJ and I found pieces of ourselves last night, I can still sense the doubt lingering. Pope’s sharp words and Kiara’s glares play on a loop in my head. I chose them, but it’s clear I haven’t earned my place back yet.

“We don’t even know if he’s at Tannyhill,” Kiara mutters, breaking the silence.

“We don’t know that he’s not,” JJ fires back, flicking the edge of his sunglasses up just enough to reveal his sharp blue eyes. “And he lives there now, genius. It’s plausible.”

Kiara huffs but says nothing.

When we dock outside Tannyhill, Pope pulls out a pair of binoculars and scans the estate. The sprawling mansion looks untouched by the chaos surrounding it. Pristine, immaculate, like nothing has happened.

“Ward’s alive,” Pope mutters, passing the binoculars to Kiara. “Doesn’t look dead to me. Let’s just go home.”

Kiara lowers the binoculars slowly, her brow furrowing. “Wait. Go? Just like that?”

“Obviously, Ward’s fine,” Pope says, his voice clipped. “And if John B was here, he’s not now. I’ve got the most important moment of my life in six hours, and I can’t waste any more time on this.”

Kiara spins on him, anger flashing in her eyes. “Our friend is in trouble, and you’re just gonna bail? Pogues for life, Pope. Remember that? Or did you forget the second thing got tough?”

“Pogues for life doesn’t mean sacrificing everything,” Pope snaps, his voice rising. “I have an interview tomorrow, Kiara! My future is on the line! Besides what does Pogues for life mean to you anyways? Remember your kook year?”

Kiara’s face flushes red, and her voice cracks as she fires back. “Excuse me?!”

“You heard me.” Pope’s words are sharp as knives. “You weren’t even around when Big John disappeared. You were too busy pretending you didn’t know us!”

The accusation hangs in the air like a bomb.

“Guys, stop!” I interject, standing abruptly. “This isn’t—”

Kiara spins to face me, her glare cutting through the humid air. “Don’t even start. You’ve been cozying up with Rafe, while we’re out here risking everything. Do you have any idea what that’s done to us?”

Her words slam into me like a physical blow.

“It’s not like that,” I start, but the quiver in my voice betrays me.

“Then what is it?” Pope snaps, his voice sharp. “Because it sure as hell looks like it.” He gestures toward the horizon, his frustration boiling over. “We’ve been watching our backs, covering for John B, and now you’ve got us wondering if you’re even on our side. How are we supposed to trust you?”

JJ stands abruptly, dragging a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every tense line of his body. “You know what? Screw this,” he says, his voice taut, but it cracks slightly. “If I’m the one playing mediator, we’ve officially hit rock bottom.”