Donna's room was functional to the bare minimum.
Kevin entered after her and remained standing near the door, like someone who had already calculated the distance to the exit.
"Sit." Donna pointed to the chair and pulled another one from against the wall.
He obeyed, asking what she wanted to talk about.
Donna crossed her arms with the naturalness of someone about to ask a question she already knew would be difficult to answer.
"Last night, someone spotted one of the creatures talking through the second-floor window." She spoke slowly, without urgency. "It was holding a bouquet. Just like the ones you usually make."
What Kevin had feared had happened. Ever since his earlier conversation with Daniel, he had been uneasy, thinking the newcomer had seen more than he initially let on.
Now the suspicion was confirmed: he knew it was the blond who had taken this story to Donna.
"I do make the arrangements," Kevin replied, forcing his gaze up to meet Donna's. "But it's just a hobby. I leave them on the porch. Anyone can take them. Anyone. Even those... things."
He let out a short, nervous, humorless laugh. "You think I'd be talking to a monster? That doesn't even make sense, Donna. They tear people in half."
Donna studied him with wariness. Her instincts, forged from years of keeping that group of misfits alive, were blaring like a fire alarm. There was something very wrong with his posture. An artificial stiffness.
However, Daniel's video didn't show the resident's face, only the creature. Accusing Kevin of betrayal and throwing him out required more than intuition and a flower arrangement. It required undeniable proof.
"Alright," Donna finally said, her tone even but carrying a weight of warning. "If you notice anything strange, or if you know someone's been chatting with the monsters, you come straight to me. Was I clear?"
"Of course. Always, Donna," Kevin agreed too quickly, standing up.
Meanwhile, downstairs, Daniel finished pushing the second box of decorations into the corner of the room. Colony House buzzed with residents preparing for the party.
He walked to the base of the stairs, where Dale waited, his body tense, his foot tapping against the wooden floor with rhythmic impatience.
"Has she talked to him yet?" Daniel asked quietly, stopping beside the older man.
"They're still up there," Dale grumbled, eyes narrowed at the top of the stairs. "I could've handled this in two minutes with a crowbar."
"Your diplomacy is touching," Daniel shot back dryly, leaning against the railing.
They didn't have to wait long. Heavy footsteps echoed on the upper steps. Donna came down first, her expression closed. Kevin followed right behind.
The moment he spotted Daniel, his mask of neutrality faltered. A flash of pure resentment and restrained panic shot toward the blond. In Kevin's mind, that arrogant newcomer was trying to separate him from Jasmine.
Daniel held the stare with indifference. There was no anger in his stance, only the coldness of someone watching an insect walk toward a web.
Dale took a step forward, fists clenching, ready to spit accusations, but Donna cut him off with a single lethal glare. The kind that promised physical pain if he opened his mouth. Dale froze in place, swallowing his words.
"You can go about your business, Kevin," Donna instructed without turning.
The young man didn't need to be told twice. He slipped past Dale and disappeared toward the back of the house.
Donna gave a sharp nod, calling Daniel and Dale over. The three of them moved away from the noise of the room, taking refuge in the small hallway near the pantry.
"He denied it," she went straight to the point, voice low. "Said he leaves the flowers on the porch and anyone can take them."
Daniel didn't say a word. He simply raised an eyebrow, waiting for the rest.
"That's a lie!" Dale hissed, a vein bulging in his neck. "That piece of shit is lying to our faces and you're just going to let it go?"
"I don't have proof, Dale!" Donna snapped, her tone dangerously sharp. "The video shows the monster, not him."
"Anyone in this house could've grabbed that damn flower. If I start throwing people out based on suspicion, panic sets in and we kill each other before the monsters even have to try."
She let out a heavy sigh, the weight of dozens of lives resting on her shoulders.
"I'm going to lock the front second-floor bathroom. It's the only window with easy access from the porch. Only the two back bathrooms will stay open. That cuts off access for whoever's been talking to that thing."
[Flawless strategy. Lock the bathroom, the problem disappears. Someone should inform the creature there's an 'out of order' sign.]
Daniel didn't disagree with the analysis. Giving Kevin the benefit of the doubt was signing a death sentence with an open date.
Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but it would go to hell. The fanaticism of a man in love with an illusion wasn't stopped by a locked door.
"If it were me, I'd keep him under surveillance and send him to live in town tomorrow," Daniel said, his voice devoid of emotion. "But it's your house. Your leadership."
He turned his back and walked toward the main room, followed closely by a Dale still muttering curses and creative insults.
Donna remained alone in the hallway, massaging her temples and letting out an exhausted breath before going to find Fatima and Julie to inform them of the decision.
---
In town, the silence inside the Matthews' house was heavy, broken only by Ethan's soft breathing as he slept on the couch.
Jim sat at the kitchen table, idly spinning a screwdriver between his fingers with no real purpose. Tabitha, leaning against the sink, watched her husband.
Julie's absence left a painful void in the room, filled only by their shared guilt.
The couple felt powerless. Wanting to step in and act like the protective parents they had always been, they longed to demand their daughter return under the same roof. But the weight of their secret — the impending divorce they believed was hidden from her — stripped away any moral authority to dictate rules about relationships and trust.
"What did you two talk about earlier? When I was talking to Daniel?" Jim finally broke the silence, not taking his eyes off the tool.
Tabitha sighed, her expression torn between maternal concern and exhaustion. "About him. About the two of them. I was direct, Jim. I asked if they had already taken things further."
The screwdriver slipped from Jim's fingers, hitting the wooden table with a sharp clack. "And what did she say?"
"She said no," Tabitha replied quickly, trying to ease the tension. "She assured me nothing happened in that sense."
"But..." she hesitated, biting her lip, "she admitted they kissed."
Jim rubbed his face, letting out a long breath. It was relief mixed with that inevitable discomfort of a father watching his daughter grow up. He picked the screwdriver back up, studying the metal tip with excessive focus.
"She trusts him a lot," Jim murmured, his voice low. "More than I expected." He paused for a moment before looking at his wife. "She told him about Thomas."
Tabitha's face instantly lost some color. "She told him? My God... Jim, she barely talks about that with us."
"Yeah, I know." Jim's voice carried a resigned sadness. "They're building a strong bond."
Tabitha turned toward the dark kitchen window. "I just... worry so much about her living in that house. With all those people, the chaos of that place. I don't feel right knowing she's away from our supervision. What are we doing?"
Jim walked over to his wife and placed a firm yet gentle hand on her shoulder.
"I don't like it either," he began, trying to project a confidence he himself was still searching for. "But we have to accept it for now. Donna seems tough, someone who really takes care of those people. She keeps order there in her own way."
Jim squeezed her shoulder, hoping to convey steadiness to his wife. "And Daniel... well, he'll be looking out for her too. I know he's hard to read sometimes. But despite that attitude, we have to give him credit for what he's done so far. And the guy does seem to genuinely care about our daughter."
Tabitha nodded slowly, her shoulders relaxing just a little under Jim's touch. It wasn't the ideal situation, but it was the reality they had.
---
Nearby, Jade was hunched over the dining table. The old notebook, found in the town's storage, lay wide open in front of him.
Beside him, Mr. Liu stared at the wall quietly, lost in his own fragmented world. At the sink, Kenny dried the dishes his mother had just washed.
The sound of water dripping and the scratch of Jade's pen filled the space until Kenny broke the silence.
"Has Sara been acting strange lately?" he asked in Cantonese, scrubbing a plate harder than necessary.
Tian-Chen turned off the faucet. "She seems much better than she did a week ago. But something is wrong."
The older woman frowned, her expression thoughtful. "Yesterday, her brother spent the whole day watching her at the diner. Today, it was the priest. I asked if everything was alright, and she gave me that rehearsed answer that it was nothing."
She turned, drying her hands on her apron, and looked at her son with the analytical scrutiny of a mother who misses nothing. "Do you know something? Because I also noticed you went to the diner far more times than usual today."
Kenny quickly looked away. "It's not something you need to worry about."
Tian-Chen studied him wordlessly for long seconds. She knew something was happening; the rigid tension in her son's shoulders gave him away immediately, but she chose not to push. Without saying anything else, she simply picked up another wet plate.
Needing to change the subject before being questioned again, Kenny glanced over his shoulder toward the dining table.
"Can you drop that for at least five minutes?" Kenny snapped, irritation clear in his voice. "You're drawing that crap even in books I was reading."
"Don't talk to me," Jade shot back without even blinking. His tone was sharp, drowned in an almost unhealthy obsession. He turned a page of the notebook, but his fingers suddenly stopped, feeling the texture of the thick paper. "Wait... this page is glued."
Kenny dropped the dish towel and approached with a defeated sigh.
Jade frowned. Without asking, he grabbed a small butter knife left at the corner and slid the tip through the middle of the page. "There's something here." With a careful but firm pull, the paper gave way, splitting in two.
Something slipped out from between the hidden pages and fell onto the wooden table with a soft, muffled sound. An old photograph.
The image showed a man holding that very notebook.
Tian-Chen, drawn by the movement, stopped behind Jade. She leaned forward, picked up the photograph with extreme care, and brought it closer to her eyes.
"It's Victor," she said softly, pointing with her wrinkled index finger to the left corner of the image.
Jade and Kenny nearly bumped heads as they leaned in to look. There, almost cut out of the frame, was a boy of about ten years old.
Kenny felt a chill as he recognized the object. The metal lunchbox with a colorful print that the child held against his body was unmistakable. It really was Victor.
"My God..." Kenny murmured, the realization sinking in.
Mr. Liu, still staring into the void, muttered something in Cantonese. A loose, completely disconnected sentence about crows, oblivious to the piece of the puzzle that had just been unearthed right beside him.
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