juno | ???? ???????

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The plane loomed large against the darkened sky, its engines roaring louder as it prepared to take off. John B and June raced toward it, their feet pounding the tarmac, the noise almost deafening. In the distance, the truck headlights slashed through the darkness, illuminating the Pogues, who stood in stunned silence, watching it all unfold.

"This is it!" John B yelled, his voice barely audible over the roar. "We're not letting them get away, June!"

But before they could reach the plane, the piercing sound of sirens filled the air. June skidded to a stop, her breath hitching. Blue and red lights flashed across the tarmac, and a sheriff's cruiser screeched to a halt in front of the plane. Sheriff Peterkin stepped out, her gun drawn, her face set in grim determination.

"Ward Cameron!" she bellowed, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Step away from the plane! You're under arrest for the murder of Big John Routledge!"

June's heart dropped. She glanced at John B, his expression a mix of shock and vindication. This was what he had been fighting for, what they had all been fighting for.

Ward appeared at the top of the stairs leading into the plane, his face pale but composed. His hands were raised slightly, his mouth forming the words everyone was desperate to hear.

"Sheriff, I think you're mistaken—"

"I'm not," Peterkin snapped, taking a step forward. "Don't make this harder than it has to be. Get down here now."

Ward hesitated, looking as though he might argue, but then he slowly descended the stairs.

"You have this all wrong," he said calmly, his tone measured. "I didn't kill anyone."

Peterkin didn't waver. "Save it for the court."

As Ward reached the tarmac, the Pogues crept closer, their breaths held. John B moved to step forward, but June grabbed his arm, shaking her head.

"Wait," she whispered. "Let her handle it."

Then everything unraveled.

A figure burst from the back of the plane, moving fast—too fast for anyone to react.

Rafe raised his gun, the barrel glinting under the lights.

"No!" Peterkin shouted, her voice trembling as she aimed her gun at him.

But it was too late.

The gunshot echoed through the night.

Peterkin staggered backward, her hand flying to her chest, blood seeping through her shirt as she collapsed onto the tarmac.

"Rafe!" Ward shouted again, his voice frantic. He ran toward Peterkin but stopped short, his hands raised in mock surrender.

"Dad, stop!" Sarah's voice rang out, sharp and desperate. "Don't make this worse!"

"It was an accident!" Ward cried, his tone shifting from panic to a feigned calm. "Sheriff, can you hear me? Please, stay with us."

"Accident?" John B's voice broke as he sprinted toward Peterkin, dropping to his knees beside her. "You—she—oh my god!"

"Dad," Rafe stammered, lowering the gun slightly, his hands trembling. "I—she was going to ruin everything. I had to—"

"No, Rafe," Ward said sharply, his voice low but commanding. "You didn't have to do this." He turned to face the Pogues, his expression hardening. "This wasn't supposed to happen. You saw it. You all saw it. She drew her gun first. She was going to shoot us."