The tension on the beach was thick.

The fight had slowed, but no one was backing down. The Pogues stood together, bruised and breathing hard, while the Kooks lingered like vultures, Topper wiping blood from his mouth, looking like he was two seconds away from lunging again.

And then there was Rafe. Standing slightly apart, arms crossed, his jaw tight. Zoe's skin still burned where he had grabbed her, and her pulse was still too fast. She wasn't sure if it was from the fight or from the way he had looked at her—like he had been daring her to pick a side.

And she had. "I think we're done here," John B said, voice edged with warning. Topper let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah? Don't think so, Routledge." He turned his glare to JJ. "You cheap shot me."

JJ smirked. "Nah, Top. That was just a regular shot." Topper moved like he was going to charge again, but Rafe grabbed his arm. "Enough."Topper yanked away. "You serious? You're defending them now?" Rafe's eyes flickered to Zoe. Just for a second.

"I'm saying drop it," he muttered. Topper scoffed but didn't argue. Not with Rafe. Zoe exhaled, trying to steady her pulse. But just as she thought the Kooks were done, another voice spoke up.

"Pathetic." A tall Kook she didn't know well—Grant, maybe?—stepped forward, giving Zoe a once-over before shaking his head.

"You seriously ditched all this," he gestured vaguely to the Kooks, "for them?" He let out a mocking laugh. "I mean, I get why they keep you around. Every group needs an easy girl, right?" Everything went silent.

Zoe's stomach dropped. JJ stiffened beside her. And then— JJ swung. Hard.

His fist collided with Grant's face, sending him staggering back into the sand. Then all hell broke loose again. John B shoved Topper, Pope tackled another Kook, and suddenly fists were flying again.
Zoe didn't have time to react before someone grabbed her arm—again.

She knew it was Rafe before she even turned. "What the hell?" she snapped, struggling against his grip. Rafe's eyes were dark. Sharp. "Let's go." Zoe wrenched away. "Are you kidding me? Your friends started this." He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I don't give a shit who started it. You're not getting caught in the middle of this."

She narrowed her eyes. "Since when do you care?" Rafe exhaled harshly. "I don't. But Barry would kill me if I let you get your ass beat over some dumbass fight." Zoe let out a sharp laugh. "Right. Barry. Of course." Another grunt of pain came from behind them, and Rafe clenched his jaw before reaching for her again.

This time, she let him pull her back. Because deep down, a small, stupid part of her knew he was right. She couldn't afford to get dragged into this. But that didn't mean she wasn't furious.

At the Kooks.

At herself.

At him.

And when this fight was over, she was definitely not letting Rafe Cameron walk away from this without answering for what the hell just happened.

Zoe felt the anger rising in her throat, a bitter, burning thing she couldn't hold back any longer. She yanked her arm out of Rafe's grip and stepped forward, her voice sharp and loud enough to cut through the fight.

"Shut up." The chaos around her stilled. The Pogues and the Kooks, still panting from the brawl, all turned to look at her. Zoe's hands were shaking, her chest rising and falling too fast, but she wasn't stopping now. Not after everything.

She looked straight at Topper, Grant, and the rest of them—the people who had spent years treating her like some halfway Kook, like she was just some cheap knockoff who didn't belong on either side.

"You all sit there and act like I had something, like I was one of you," she said, voice sharp and cracking at the edges. "Like I threw away some perfect Kook life." She laughed, but there was nothing funny about it.

"I was never one of you," she continued, shaking her head. "I pretended. I dressed the part, I acted the part, but every single night, I had to go back to the Cut—back to a trailer with Barry because we didn't have parents, didn't have money, didn't have shit." She exhaled shakily, her vision blurred with frustration.

"You know what it's like to fake a smile at your rich little Kook parties all day and then go home and hear drug deals happening outside your bedroom window? Or to lie about why you can't invite anyone over because there isn't a fancy house waiting for you on Figure Eight?" The Kooks were silent.

Even Topper didn't have a comeback. Zoe let out a shaky breath. "You act like I chose to leave you behind. But the truth is, I was never really there to begin with." She turned then, done with this conversation

Silence. The kind that settled heavy, sinking into the sand beneath them.

Zoe could feel the weight of every stare, the way the Kooks looked at her like she'd just shattered some illusion they'd built in their heads. Because that's what they had done—built up this idea of her, of who she was supposed to be. And now?

Now, she had ripped it apart. Topper clenched his jaw, his pride still bruised from the fight, but he didn't say anything. He had nothing to say.

Grant, the Kook who had insulted her in the first place, wiped a bit of blood from his lip, his expression unreadable. And Rafe?

Rafe was staring. Not smirking. Not looking smug. Just staring. Something in his eyes flickered—something deep, unreadable, something close to understanding. But Zoe didn't care.

She had said what she needed to say. Without another word, she turned back to the Pogues. JJ, still breathing hard from the fight, watched her with something like pride in his expression. John B and Pope exchanged a glance, while Kiara gave her a small nod—silent approval, understanding.

Zoe swallowed hard, forcing herself to steady her breathing. Then, finally, JJ broke the silence. "Damn, Z," he said, his lips tugging into a slow grin. "You really know how to shut up a crowd."

Zoe let out a breath—half a laugh, half exhaustion. "Someone had to." JJ slung an arm around her shoulders. "That? That was some Pogue shit right there." She didn't pull away. Didn't want to.

Because for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like she was caught between two worlds. She had picked a side. And she wasn't looking back.

She turned one last time, her gaze flickering to Rafe. He hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken.

But his eyes?They told her that this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

The walk back to the trailer was quiet. Not in an awkward way, but in a way that felt loaded, like JJ was waiting for Zoe to say something first.

She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. She had just laid it all out back there—everything she had spent years pretending didn't bother her, everything she had bottled up so tightly she forgot how angry it made her.

And the Kooks? They had nothing to say back. It should've felt like a win, but it just left her exhausted. She let out a breath, rubbing her arms as they stepped off the beach and onto the dirt path leading to Barry's trailer.

JJ finally spoke up. "That was some badass shit back there, Z." Zoe scoffed, shaking her head. "Didn't feel badass. Felt like a breakdown." JJ grinned. "Well, if that was a breakdown, you should have those more often."

She shot him a look, but the corner of her mouth almost twitched up. They reached the trailer, and Zoe hesitated. It looked different now. Like she was seeing it clearly for the first time—the rusted door, the busted porch light, the lingering smell of weed and cigarette smoke in the air.

This had been her reality for years. And tonight? She was choosing something else. She pushed open the door, stepping inside. The air inside was stale, the faint sound of a TV buzzing from Barry's room. She knew he wasn't home—probably out handling business—but even if he was, she doubted he'd care that she was leaving for the night.

JJ followed her in, glancing around. "Man, I always forget how sketchy this place is." Zoe rolled her eyes. "Thanks, JJ. Really helps." He held his hands up. "Just saying. Not exactly the home sweet home vibe."

She ignored him, moving toward her room. It wasn't much—a small bed, a few scattered clothes, an old dresser with a cracked mirror—but it was hers. For now, at least. She grabbed a duffel bag and started shoving clothes inside—hoodies, a couple of tank tops, whatever she could find in the mess.

JJ leaned against the doorway, watching her. "You ever think about leaving this place for good?" Zoe paused. Hands tightening around a sweatshirt, she swallowed. "Yeah."

JJ nodded, like he understood. "Well, the Chateau's got room." She gave him a small smile. "Thanks, JJ." He smirked. "Just don't steal my bed."

She laughed under her breath, shaking her head as she zipped up her bag. And just like that, she was out. Leaving behind the place she had spent her whole life in. And choosing something better.