All Chapters of The Reset: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

37 Chapters

Continuing

I looked at the screen and added a final note to the end of the document.I survived the fire that took Mom and Dad. I survived the metal that took Carter. For seven years, I thought surviving was my sin. I thought the only way to be loyal to them was to never move past the age of eighteen—the last year we were all a family. But I’m twenty-six now. And I’m staying here.I am going to live my life to the fullest and not regret it.Love always,myself.I closed the laptop. The click sounded like a period at the end of a very long, painful sentence.I walked out to the kitchen where Clayton was waiting. He was leaning against the counter, watching the coffee drip, his face etched with the kind of cautious hope that usually breaks my heart. But today, I wanted to give him something real."I finished," I said.Clayton straightened up, his eyes searching mine. He was looking for the girl who didn't know him, but for the first time, I think he finally saw the woman who did. "How are you feeli

30,000 feet

POV: ZiaThe morning air was crisp, the kind of stillness that usually feels peaceful, but today it felt like the breath you take before diving underwater. Viola was back, sitting in the same spot on the patio, looking as unimpressed by the million-dollar view as she had the first time.I told her about the letters. I told her about the pier. I even told her about the "I am not a thief" mantra.She listened, her sharp eyes tracking the way my hands didn't shake as much as they used to. "Good," she said, her voice like gravel. "You’ve cleared the brush. Now we have to dig up the stumps."I frowned. "What does that mean?""It means you’re getting comfortable here in your island bubble," Viola said, leaning forward. "Kauai is a beautiful bandage, Zia. But the wound happened in Pennsylvania. You’re twenty-six years old, and you’re finally awake. It’s time to go back to the start. You need to stand on the soil where you lost Zachariah and Mia. You need to see the house Carter grew up in."

Little Doe

POV: ClaytonI’d never seen Zia look so small. Watching her panic at 30,000 feet made me want to rip the plane apart just to get her back on solid ground. But now that we were in the rental SUV, heading toward West Chester, a different kind of instinct was kicking in.The black sedan had been behind us for five miles.I took a sharp right into a crowded shopping center, my eyes glued to the rearview. "Welcome to Pennsylvania, I guess," I muttered, my voice dropping into that dangerous register. "Looks like your past isn't the only thing waiting for us here."Zia’s phone buzzed in her lap. She looked down, her face turning even paler than it had been on the plane. She dropped the phone as if it had burned her."What is it?" I asked, my hand already reaching for the tire iron I'd tucked under my seat."A text," she whispered. "From an unknown number. It says... it says Carter left something for me at the bridge. And it says 'Don't let the surfer see you take it.'"I felt a surge of cold

The Huntress

POV: SylviaI watched the steam rise from my tea, the porcelain cup a delicate eggshell white against my manicured nails. Outside my window, the Pennsylvania sky was the color of a wet sidewalk—perfect.My phone vibrated on the mahogany desk. A text from Leo.Target moved. Checked into The Primrose. Cash stay.I smiled. "The Primrose," I whispered to the empty room. "Always the drama queen, Zia. Just like your mother."It had been eight years. Eight years of watching that little doe skip across the Pacific, hiding behind a surf-bum husband and a convenient case of amnesia. Did she really think a few thousand miles of salt water could wash away what was owed to me? My brother, Zachariah, had always been the golden child, the one who inherited the brains and the business while I was left with the scraps of his "charity."When the plane went down, I thought justice had finally been served. But then the lawyer read the will. Everything to Zia and Carter. The memory of that day still made t

Not an 'accident'

POV: ZiaThe motel room felt like a cage. Every time the heater kicked on, the mechanical rattle sounded like a plane engine, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut to keep from screaming. Clayton was across the room, his back to me as he watched the parking lot through a sliver in the curtains. He was a silent, lethal shadow, but I was a mess of sparking wires.Memories were hitting me like buckshot—fast, painful, and disjointed.I saw a face. Not Sylvia’s. A younger face, framed by a sterile white cap. A woman with cold, blue eyes and a voice that was too sweet, like saccharine.Nurse Eleanor.She had been there during my last stay at the clinic. She was the one who changed my IV. She was the one who always seemed to be "checking my vitals" right before my head would go fuzzy and I’d lose another three days to the fog."Clay," I whispered, my voice sounding brittle."I'm here, Z." He didn't turn around, but his shoulders tensed."The nurse at Dr. Clue’s. The one who was always there. Ele

The Shell Game

POV: ZiaI stared at the small, silver locket hanging around my neck. To anyone else, it was just a piece of jewelry. To my family, it was the only key to the truth. I gripped the cool metal, feeling the jagged teeth of the key tucked inside the housing."We need a distraction," I said, looking at Clayton in the dim light of the motel. "Sylvia thinks I’m the 'Little Doe.' She thinks I’m just going to run until I trip. But she doesn't know about Lailah."Lailah was the one person in Pennsylvania I still trusted. We had been best friends since kindergarten, and while I had fled to Hawaii, Lailah had stayed and built an empire. She owned Legacy Rentals, a high-end car service near the outskirts of the city.When we pulled into the lot of Legacy Rentals, Lailah was already standing by the glass doors, her arms crossed, looking every bit the powerhouse she was."Zia," she breathed, pulling me into a hug that smelled like expensive perfume and engine oil. "You look like you've seen a ghost.

The Switch

POV: ClaytonMy knuckles were white against the steering wheel of the black SUV. Beside me, Lailah sat low in the passenger seat, her head tucked into the collar of Zia’s denim jacket. Every time I glanced at her in the rearview, for a split second, my heart would stutter. She looked enough like Zia to fool a tail, but she didn’t have that specific way Zia held her breath when she was scared.I checked the clock on the dash. Forty-five minutes."They're still there," Lailah muttered, her eyes on the side mirror. "Two cars back. That black sedan hasn't budged since we hit the bypass.""Good," I grunted. "Let them follow the ghost."I pushed the SUV harder, taking a series of sharp, winding backroads through the Pennsylvania woods. The trees were skeletal, their branches clawing at the gray sky like reachers from a nightmare. I missed the palms of Kauai. I missed the predictable rhythm of the North Shore. Here, everything felt like a trap.Finally, I banked a hard left toward the stone

Peppermint

POV: ClaytonI hated being away from her, even for ten minutes. I stood in the electronics aisle of a twenty-four-hour superstore in Allentown, my eyes darting between the security bubbles in the ceiling and the sliding glass doors. I felt like a shark out of water—I knew how to fight in the surf, but here, the currents were made of neon lights and concrete.I grabbed two prepaid burner phones and a handful of cash cards. I paid at the self-checkout, keeping my head down, and looped back to the silver sedan where Zia was crouched on the floorboards."Got them," I whispered, sliding into the driver's seat.Zia didn't waste a second. She ripped the packaging open with her teeth. Her eyes were focused, the "Reset" fog completely gone, replaced by a cold, sharp desperation. She dialed a number from memory."Tony’s Deli?" she said into the burner. Her voice was steady. "I’d like to place an order for pickup. A large thin-crust... with peppermint."There was a silence on the other end. I wat

Cover-up

POV: ZiaThe smell of Tony’s Deli hit me like a physical blow. It was the scent of my childhood—salty provolone, cured meats, and the sharp, vinegary bite of peppers. It was a sensory overload that threatened to trigger a Reset, but I gripped the handle of the silver sedan's door and forced myself to stay in the present."Stay sharp, Z," Clayton whispered. He was wearing a dark hoodie, his eyes constantly scanning the street. "I don't like this. It’s too exposed.""It’s the only way," I said.We stepped inside. The bell above the door jingled—a sound I hadn't heard in eight years. Tony, the owner, was behind the counter, slicing ham. He looked up, his eyes widening as they landed on me. He didn't say a word; he just jerked his head toward the back booth, hidden behind a tall display of potato chips.There, sitting with a cup of black coffee, was Arthur Vance.He looked older. His hair was a stark, snowy white, and the lines around his eyes were deeper, but when he looked up, that famil

The sound of the World Ending

POV: ClaytonI didn't like the plan. I didn't like the crowded market, and I definitely didn't like the way Zia was looking at that ledger like it was the only thing keeping her soul attached to her body.We were walking toward the Filbert Street entrance. The air was thick with the smell of exhaust and roasting coffee. Every person who brushed past us made my skin crawl. I felt like a sentry in a war zone, my eyes scanning every face, every hand tucked into a pocket."There he is," Zia whispered.Across the crowded aisle, near a stall selling massive soft pretzels, stood an older man. He looked like he belonged in a courtroom—stern, polished, but with eyes that moved as fast as mine. He saw Zia, and for a split second, his mask slipped. He looked like a man seeing a ghost.He nodded once. The signal.I leaned into Zia, pressing my lips to her temple. I wanted to tell her I loved her. I wanted to tell her we’d be back in Kauai by Sunday, eating Puka Dogs and watching the sunset. But al

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