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''That's dandruff, disgusting,''

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JJ AND JOHN B showed up at the chateau, both grinning like they'd just stumbled into something monumental.

''You guys are not gonna believe this!'' JJ announced, his eyes lighting up. He leaned against the wall on the chateau porch. ''So we were right outside, like this''—he started mimicking the scene, throwing punches in the air with each "bam"—''and all we hear is, "Bam! Bam! Bam!"''

I exchanged a look with Pope and we both raise our eyebrows. 

JJ's expression changed dramatically, and he tugged at his hair. ''Look at this shit!''

''That's dandruff, disgusting,'' Kiara scoffed.

Pope chimed in dryly, ''Okay, thank you.''

JJ ignored them, pacing back and forth like he was still reliving the whole thing. ''All right? That paint was practically chipping off the walls! I'm waiting for death at this point, guys!''

John B stood nearby, quiet and still, his mind clearly somewhere else. I nudged him a little, but his gaze remained on the compans he held in his hands.

''Okay, but, like...you saw the guys that shot at us, right?'' Pope pressed, clearly hoping for something more helpful.

JJ nodded. ''Yeah.''

Pope leaned in. ''Did you get a good description of them? What did they look like?''

''Anything, anything helpful,'' I added, hoping JJ would give us something useful for once.

Pope pressed further, ''Anything we can use in a police report?''

JJ thought for a moment, then finally replied, ''Burly.''

Pope raised an eyebrow. ''Burly?''

I rolled my eyes. ''That's so gonna help us out, thank you, JJ.''

JJ gave me a playful wink, ''Oh yeah, sure, no problem.''

Then, as if realizing how little "burly" really helped, he clarified. ''No, like, the kind of guys that hang around my dad's garage. You know he made cargo hides for smugglers.''

''Yeah, we know,'' Kiara replied, trying to hold back her impatience.

JJ cut her off, leaning back against the wall and pulling out his e-cigarette. ''I'm telling you, these guys...'' He took a drag, blowing out the smoke. ''These guys are square groupers.''

Pope, looking bewildered, questioned, ''Square groupers? You mean like... Pablo Escobar square groupers?''

JJ nodded seriously, taking another puff. ''Yeah, man.''

''Not everything is a kingpin movie, JJ,'' Kiara shot back, shaking her head.

Pope, getting more irritated, demanded, ''So what does this square grouper look like, specifically?''

JJ glared back, stepping closer to Pope, defensive. ''You weren't there, bro!''

Pope threw his hands up in frustration. ''Clearly, you don't know what to look for!''

JJ's face twisted in exasperation as he waved his hands. ''Dude, I wasn't taking little mental Polaroids, okay? I was under duress...'' He gasped dramatically. ''Under duress!''

Pope buried his face in his hands, clearly over it. But JJ wasn't done. ''But listen... the way Ms. Lana was screaming? These guys are serious. Serious hombres, man.''

''Great. Heavy vibes,'' I muttered. ''This is sounding better and better.''

Kiara cut in, asking the question that had been hovering in all our minds. ''Why would they even want the compass? It's a piece of junk. You couldn't sell it for five bucks.''

''The office,'' John B muttered, suddenly snapping back into focus.

I raised an eyebrow. ''Like... the show?''

He turned to me with a deadpan expression. ''No, dumbass. My dad's office.''

I held up my hands in mock surrender. ''As if I could've possibly guessed that.''

He brushed it off, leading us inside the chateau toward the office. ''My dad always kept this room locked, worried about competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research,'' he explained, pausing as he looked around the space. ''I used to laugh at him, you know? Like he was actually gonna find it. But now...'' His voice trailed off, and he glanced back at us. ''I kinda left it the way he kept it.''

Kiara smiled. ''Yeah, for when he gets back.''

''I've stayed over here hundreds of times and never even seen this door open,'' Pope observed, looking at the hidden office as we stepped inside.

John B pulled out an old wooden board, pointing to a sepia-toned photo at the top. ''This is the original owner right here,'' he explained.

''Robert Q. Routledge, 1880 to 1920. And there's the lucky compass,'' Kiara pointed out, gesturing to the compass in the man's hand.

John B's expression darkened. ''He was shot after he bought it.''

He moved on to another photo, explaining grimly, ''Then the compass was shipped back to Henry. Henry died in a crop-dusting accident while he had it.''

He pointed to the next picture, making the connection. ''And then it went to Stephen, who had it on him when he died in Vietnam.''

''Let me guess. He died in action, right?'' JJ smirked, looking skeptical.

John B shook his head. ''Actually, he was killed by a banana truck. In country.''

''Anyway, after that, Stephen passed the compass to my dad.''

''Are we just gonna ignore the fact this dude got killed by a banana truck?'' I asked.

JJ leaned back, crossing his arms. ''Seems like there's a pattern here,'' he remarked, looking more serious than usual.

I crossed my arms, shaking my head. ''I guess we will ignore that,'' I whispered under my breath.

 ''Yeah, um... you have a death compass,'' Peope stated and glanced over at John B, who rolled his eyes.

''No, I do not have a—''

''You have a death compass,'' Pope insisted, cutting him off.

''Dude, get rid of it,'' JJ interjected, his voice lowered like he was trying to reason with a lunatic. ''It's cursed and somehow managed to find its way back to you.'' He pointed accusingly at the small brass object in John B's hand.

John B brushed them off, rotating the compass as he examined it. ''Look, my dad always talked about a hidden compartment inside. Soldiers would stash secret notes in things like this.'' He peered inside the compass, his brow furrowing.

''What's that?'' Kiara asked, pointing at the interior.

''That wasn't there before,'' John B said, sounding rattled. The inside revealed a tiny, scratched-in ''R.''

He squinted at it, stunned. ''This is my dad's handwriting.''

''How can you know that for sure?'' Pope asked.

John B held the compass up, angling it toward the light. ''He had this weird way of making his R's, with this extra loop—see it?''

JJ moved closer, frowning as he tilted his head. ''Red... Routledge? No, wait. I think that's an A...''

John B leaned in. ''It says Redfield.''

''Okay... so what's Redfield?'' Kiara's question pulled me out of my thoughts.

''Besides being the most common name in the country?'' I added.

John B turned the compass over. ''Maybe it's a clue. Like, maybe my dad left it for me to find. It could lead to where he's hiding.''

''Or, maybe it's an anagram,'' Pope suggested.

''Yes! Perfect. Anagram.'' John B quickly handed Pope a scrap of paper. ''Go on, give it a try.''

Just then, the rooster crowed loudly outside, breaking the concentration in the room. Pope huffed. ''How can anyone think straight with that stupid thing crowing?''

John B chuckled, gesturing towards JJ. ''JJ loves the rooster. I can't get rid of it.''

I rolled my eyes, turning to the window in time to spot something unexpected. A sleek, black car was pulling up the driveway, moving slowly, like it was trying not to be noticed. ''Guys!'' I hissed. John B rushed over, peeking through the window beside me. ''Someone's here!''

''Guys, is that them?'' I whispered, my pulse quickening.

''No,'' JJ said, tilting his head in disbelief. ''This is... very bad.''

''Suboptimal,'' Pope stated.

JJ started pacing, running his hands through his hair. ''John B, I told you. Why does it always—''

Before he could finish, John B grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look him in the eye. ''JJ, focus. Where's the gun?''

JJ's eyes darted around, his fingers twitching nervously. ''The gun? I, uh... I think I left it on the porch.''

I groaned, feeling my stomach twist. ''JJ, the one time we actually need the gun?''

''It was in my backpack, and then I—''

''The porch, JJ!'' John B snapped, pushing him towards the door. JJ scrambled out, disappearing onto the porch.

A man's voice suddenly thundered from outside, ''John Routledge!''

JJ burst back in, slamming the door behind him. ''They're on the front porch, guys.''

''Window, now!'' Kiara whispered frantically. Pope and JJ ran to it, struggling to lift it as panic spread across all our faces.

Kiara glanced back, her voice shaky. ''Why is it taking so long?''

JJ wrestled with the window, his jaw clenched. ''It's painted shut, okay?''

I scanned the room and grabbed a letter opener from the table, shoving it into his hands. ''Here. Try this.''

The three of us wedged the blade between the frame, prying desperately as John B and Kiara huddled by the door, motioning for us to keep quiet.

Footsteps thudded up the porch. ''You better not be in there!'' the man barked. The doorknob rattled, and a shot fired, echoing through the chateau like a thunderclap.

JJ swore under his breath, finally managing to shove the window open. Pope reached out, pulling me through first. I landed with a quiet thud, scrambling to my feet as one by one the others followed, diving out the window and making a break for the nearby chicken coop.

We all squeezed inside, crouching in the dusty darkness, each of us barely breathing. Then, just when I thought we might be safe, the rooster let out a loud, ecstatic crow.

''Do something, Pope! Shut him up!'' JJ hissed.

Pope looked around helplessly. ''What do you want me to do?''

''Hug him or something!'' I whispered urgently, watching as JJ crept towards the rooster, his hands reaching out. Before I knew it, he wrapped his hands around the bird's neck, silencing it.

I shot him a look. ''That's not the kind of hug I meant, JJ.''

He gave me an unapologetic shrug. ''Yeah, I'm aware.''

The distant sound of car doors slamming shut made us all freeze. Slowly, we peeked through the gaps in the coop, watching as the men climbed back into the car and sped off, leaving the chateau silent once again.

We let out a collective sigh, our breaths finally coming back in shaky, relieved bursts.

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