EPISODE 4 Dead Heat
836 Words
Keisha didn’t sleep.
Not because of the blackout, or even the threat that had brushed past her in the hallway like a warning. It was something deeper. Something she couldn’t shake.
She lay on her side, watching the ceiling fan cast slow-moving shadows across the room. Every breath felt like dragging water through her lungs. Nico’s face haunted her. Giovanni's silence echoed louder than any threat. And that word
Useful.
It had stuck in her like a splinter, a wound that would not bleed but wouldn’t heal.
She hadn’t asked for this.
But here it was. Heavy. Ugly. Real.
Her father used to say trust was earned, not given. But now she wondered what he’d really earned from her. If the man she’d loved and buried had hidden this life so well… what else had he hidden?
Morning came too fast.
She dragged herself into a hoodie and wandered toward the beach, the air thick with salt and something else that tasted like goodbye.
The shoreline was empty. No staff raking the sand. No guests. No music playing from the lobby speakers.
The De Luca crew was gone. Or hiding. Either way, the place felt stripped down.
Keisha stood in the sand with bare feet and tired eyes, trying to breathe through the dread building in her chest.
She felt like an intruder in her own home.
“You should be packing.”
The voice came from behind her.
She turned.
Giovanni.
He looked like he hadn’t slept either. Same black shirt. Same unreadable eyes. Sunglasses hid most of him, but she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders held something back.
“Are you serious?” she asked.
He nodded. “Nico’s next move won’t be subtle. He knows you’re awake now.”
Keisha scoffed. “Where would I even go?”
“We have safe houses.”
“Oh, so I’m under witness protection now? In my own damn hotel?”
His mouth twitched, but it wasn’t amusement. It was restraint. “You’re not under protection. You’re a piece in play.”
The words hit harder than she expected. Maybe because they were true.
Still, she didn’t pack.
Instead, she found Sofia alone by the garden terrace, seated in one of the iron chairs her father used to repaint every spring. She was holding a notebook that didn’t look like hers, flipping through pages with a faraway look in her eyes.
Keisha sat across from her
Keisha did not sleep.
She lay in silence, haunted by Nico’s voice, Giovanni’s absence, and Sofia’s final words. Useful. That’s what she was to them. A pawn.
The morning air was heavy with salt and dread. The beach, once familiar, felt foreign. Empty.
“You should be packing,” Giovanni said, appearing behind her.
“In my own hotel?” she snapped.
“You’re a piece in play.”
That hurt more than she expected.
Instead of packing, she found Sofia in the garden. Quiet. Reflective.
“If I die,” Sofia whispered, “tell Giovanni I didn’t regret anything.”
Keisha tried to smile, but it stuck in her throat.
Later, the boat came.
Unmarked. Silent. And then violence.
Keisha heard the scream before she saw the blood.
Sofia. Crumpled on the sand, her white dress soaked red. Giovanni was beside her, barking orders, hands shaking. But it was too late.
Gone.
Keisha dropped to her knees, choking in disbelief. Everything that had been uncertain was now bloodstained truth.
Giovanni vanished afterward. Grief made him ghostly. She found him alone later, hand pressed into the glass, whispering her sister’s name. She turned before he saw her cry.
At 3 a.m., an envelope appeared at her door.
No name. No seal. Just a compass rose.
Wright. De Luca. Romano
Her name. Giovanni’s. Nico’s.
Not just enemies. A legacy.
She sat on the floor, heart pounding. This wasn’t a coincidence. It was inheritance. A map written in blood. She couldn’t sleep. Again. By midnight, she was back in her father’s office. No real reason. Just pacing. Opening drawers. Half hoping for nothing, half not. One drawer stuck more than the others. Hadn’t before. She tugged harder. A folded slip of paper sat at the back. Tucked between receipts and dried-out pens. Her name. That was all it said on the front. *Keisha.*She unfolded it with her heart already beating faster than it should’ve been.**Keisha***If you’re reading this, I didn’t make it. Don’t trust what they tell you. Not all of it. Maybe not any of it. Your gut’s louder than their proof. Follow the rose.*No sign-off. No explanation. Just that. Her fingers stayed curled around the note long after she’d read it. She didn’t cry. But her throat hurt like she might.
That night, she dreamed of her father in the ocean, arms outstretched, eyes hollow.
“You were never meant to stay out of this,” he said before the tide pulled him under.
And this time, she did not scream.
She simply watched.
- Writer
