It was supposed to be routine.


A quiet town in Oklahoma. Another nameless motel. Another lonely victim.


They had picked him from a rest stop—middle-aged, traveling alone, friendly in that naive way that made Sienna’s skin crawl. He invited them back to his room after a smoke and a few fake laughs. Classic setup. Easy.


But they didn’t see the boy.


Not until it was too late.


He was maybe seventeen. Hidden in the shadows near the vending machine across the parking lot. His hoodie up, earbuds dangling from his neck. He was filming. He didn’t even realize what he was capturing at first—just some strangers heading into a room with a man who wouldn't come out again.


But once the blood hit the hallway floor, the boy raised his phone with shaking hands and started recording.


Sienna caught the movement.


By the time Cameron opened the door with red-soaked gloves, she was already running. The boy was fast. But Sienna was faster.


She caught him halfway across the lot.


He screamed, twisted, bit her. She slapped him hard, dragging him behind the dumpster. The phone hit the pavement, cracking.


Cameron caught up, breathing hard, the knife still in his hand.


The kid looked between them, wild-eyed. “Please—please don’t kill me! I didn’t see anything! I swear, I didn’t—”


Sienna raised the blade.


Cameron stopped her.


“Wait.”


She froze.


“Why?”


“We don’t kill kids.”


“He’s not a kid,” she snapped. “He’s a witness.”


Cameron stepped between them. “We let him go. We disappear. Change everything.”


Sienna stared at him. “You want to let him live?”


“Yes.”


“He’ll talk.”


“Then we go deeper underground.”


She stepped back, furious. “We don’t run from loose ends, Cameron. We never have.”


The boy whimpered. “I won’t say anything. Please…”


Cameron turned, knelt in front of him. “Delete the video.”


With shaking fingers, the boy opened his phone, deleted the footage, and handed it over.


Cameron crushed it beneath his boot. Then he looked at Sienna. “We leave. Now.”


They were gone within the hour.


Changed the plates. Burned the car. Bleached their clothes. Tossed everything from the motel—including the scrapbook.


Sienna tried to pretend it was fine.


Tried to smile. To touch him like she used to.


But she couldn’t ignore what had happened.


Cameron had spared someone.


He had let fear control him. Worse—conscience.


She watched him as they drove west, eyes on the road, his jaw clenched.


And she realized something chilling.


It wasn’t the witness that had shaken him.


It was her.


He’d seen something that night—something in her face, in her fury.


And now… he was afraid of her.


Two states over, a news report hit:

“Teen captures suspected serial killers on video—local man found dead in motel room. Video lost, but descriptions match ongoing ‘Lovers’ Lane’ case.”


FBI involvement was confirmed.


Composite sketches.


A nationwide alert.


The net was closing.


And the boy they let live had opened the door to it all.


That night, Sienna stood in the motel bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror.


She didn’t feel rage. She didn’t feel panic.


She felt betrayal.


The man she loved was pulling away.


And if he did it again—


She might kill him next.