Ava's POV

The bonfire was roaring outside—laughter rolling across the lawn, someone strumming a guitar off-key, the sweet char of toasted marshmallows drifting through the open windows. Inside the main cabin the air felt heavier, thicker, lit only by a single lamp on the side table and the faint orange glow leaking in from the fire pit. Doors locked. Curtains drawn. The four of them waited.

Ryan leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, jeans already unbuttoned. Tyler sat on the arm of the couch, knees spread, stroking himself slowly through his sweats. Uncle Mark stood near the fireplace, belt unbuckled but still threaded through his loops, sleeves rolled to...