Minutes later, Boo finds herself in the place she least expected—Martha and Damien's secret spot, once a thing of hidden beauty and untarnished romance, now tainted with the memory of Damien's grisly death and what Boo suspects will be her own soon enough. Nathaniel's hand is wound tightly through her hair, mercilessly dragging her along the water-logged banks down to the river. The swell of the water is more than usual; recent rains have flooded the creek, turning what is normally a gentle woodland stream into an angry spit of water.

"You want to know what happened so bad?" Nathaniel spits, throwing Boo onto the edge of the river. She tumbles to the ground, momentarily stunned by the shock of cold water as her hands land on the slimy creek bottom. Barely a blink of an eye passes before Nathaniel's full weight is sinking into her back, ramming her body into the soft earth framing the river.

"Then you can die where he did."

His words are muffled as he shoves her head below the rushing water, his hands forcing her down while his body keeps her pinned. Panic floods her chest as she fights against him, but he's just too heavy. Unable to help herself, she gasps in fear and a current of cold water rushes into her mouth and down her windpipe; she chokes against the water, but her face is in the muddy riverbank and the water is filling her lungs and her chest is becoming unbearably tight.

This is it, she thinks, her panic rising. This is where I die.

Before she can completely black out, she is suddenly ripped from the water and thrown onto her back on the wet grass, gulping and fumbling for air while Nathaniel leans over her again, another deadly leer on his face.

"Not good enough, huh?" he sneers. He quickly straddles her, keeping her hips pressed down with his full weight while his hands keep her wrists trapped above her head. "Maybe you'd prefer this. Feel familiar? It should—this is how your bitch grandmother died."

One hand leaves her wrist to cover her nose and mouth. Boo feebly tries to push him off with her free hand, to scratch his hand or his face, anything to make him stop, but she's dizzy from lack of air and Nathaniel's weight is too much for her. He pushes down harder on her face and she vomits water into his hand. Her eyes flutter as stars explode across her vision. She knows she has literal seconds before the fight is over for good.

Her arm goes limp, and that's when she brushes something cold and hard peeking out of Nathaniel's belt line.

The pistol.

She grabs it by the barrel, and by some miracle, is able to flip it over in her hand until the handle sits strong and solid in her palm. Without hesitation, she presses the muzzle into his neck. He freezes, the victory falling from his face as he realizes what she's done.

"Get off me."

Her voice is muted by his hand. He retracts his grip, and she gasps deeply, choking now at the pain of a full breath. She gestures to the side with her head, indicating for him to stand. He does so, keeping his gaze on her, methodically backing away until he's standing a few feet away from her with his hands slightly raised.

"We're done here," Boo says weakly, coming to her feet. She keeps the gun aimed at Nathaniel as she moves, grappling with the unfamiliar weight of the piece in her hand. "It's over for you."

"Boo, stop!"

Completely caught off guard, Boo turns to see Harry racing into the clearing with a panicked look on his face. What he's doing here, she has no earthly idea.

"How . . . what . . ." She can't form the question; her mind is still spinning.

"I followed you," he confesses bluntly. "I heard you leave and I was worried you were doing something stupid. As much as he deserves it, Boo, you can't shoot him. He has to pay for what he's done."

She doesn't quite have the words yet to say she wasn't actually planning on shooting anyone. But Nathaniel beats her to the punch. He lets out a throaty laugh, his attention also on Harry. "This is just too good!"

He and Boo turn to face Nathaniel, bearing similar expressions of uncertainty. His eyes bounce between them, as if there's an unsaid inside joke here that they just haven't caught on to. He looks far too pleased with himself as he grins. "It's that night all over again."

A heavy pit lands in the middle of Boo's chest, knocking the wind from her. "How dare you," she says, her voice lethal.

Harry suddenly sprints and tackles Nathaniel to the ground, throwing swing after swing without hesitation. Boo is frozen in shock, useless as she watches the fight unfold. Nathaniel struggles to regain control, but Harry is younger and stronger; every punch, every kick Nathaniel gives, he dodges with relative ease before coming back with twice the power, twice the anger. Before long, Harry stands and brushes the dirt from his clothes as Nathaniel stays sprawled on the riverbank, bloodied and gasping.

Silence hangs heavy and swollen around the clearing. Boo watches Harry carefully, who seems ready to go another round. His features are etched with a darkness that she hasn't seen on him before, and it makes her uneasy.

"What are you waiting for?" Nathaniel's voice cuts through the air; a dull knife, seeking a weak spot.

Boo looks over to see him struggling to sit up.

"Just fucking end it," he laughs hoarsely. Beneath the blood and dirt coating his skin, Boo can see a deadly glint in his eyes. Seems there's one last game to play. "You've got the upper hand. What are you waiting for?"

A beat passes. Boo can't deny that there's a small part of her that desires nothing more than to exact revenge; for herself, for Martha, for Damien and Hazel and everyone else affected by Nathaniel's poisonous existence. But more than anything, she knows it wouldn't be fair. Death is too easy an end, and Harry is right; Nathaniel has to pay for his crimes.

"No."

Her voice is clear and hard. Bright like the blazing sun. Her grip is still tight on the pistol, but she lowers her arms slightly.

Nathaniel pants, confusion written on his face. "What?"

"I'm not you," she bites. "I'm not you and I'm not Nana. I'm not a killer, and I'm not going to sit quiet for forty-five years while you get away with murder."

A tense moment passes. Boo can feel Harry's eyes burning a hole into her back, nervously anticipating her next move. Nathaniel, to her surprise, starts shaking with quiet laughter.

"Not surprising," he chuckles darkly, his voice hoarse. He wipes some blood from his lip with his bruised knuckles. Boo watches him silently, still not entirely believing her own words. "You're nothing. You've never been. Look at where you come from. At who you come from."

Her finger is itching to pull the trigger.

Nathaniel bares his teeth in a bloody grin. "Lori's got nothing on you."

Her vision goes red and before she can stop herself, her finger moves and a loud bang resounds from the gun. The kickback bites her hand, cutting deep into the soft flesh, as both she and Nathaniel gasp in alarm. He wails in pain and grips his thigh tightly, his screams cutting into the air buzzing around Boo's ears. His hands are suddenly covered in new blood; more of his own.

She shot him. She really shot him. She can't move, frozen in disbelief. What if it was fatal? She would be no better than anyone else.

Behind her, the world kicks into motion at the sound of the gunshot; dozens of bodies emerge from the tree line, brandishing guns and badges and screaming orders. Harry's hands are abruptly on Boo's face, desperately trying to get her attention; it sounds as though she's hearing him through a distant wall. To her surprise, the two of them are completely bypassed as multiple FBI agents and Harrisford P.D. officers swarm Nathaniel, who is still laid out in pain on the wet riverbank.

Someone roughly pulls the gun from her hand, and she looks over to see Ashton gazing at her in concern as he hands the piece off for evidence collection. He wears an unfamiliar bomber jacket, and to her complete bewilderment, pulls an FBI badge from his pocket.

"We have a lot of talking to do," is all he says before he walks away. He joins the growing crowd of officers surrounding Nathaniel, who is now facedown on the ground and in cuffs. His black eyes meet Boo's from across the dark clearing, and once more she feels like a deer caught in headlights.

Harry moves quickly, putting himself in Boo's line of sight to finally break her trance. Gingerly, he begins leading her away from the situation, toward a flurry of police headlights and encroaching sirens. "He's not coming anywhere near you again," he says gently. "Especially not on that leg."

Her hand stings and she looks down, broken from her numbed silence. A crimson line drips from the wound where the recoil struck her.

"I . . . I don't know what happened," she whispers, covering her bloody hand with her uninjured one. "I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't," Harry says calmly, ushering her toward the ambulance that's just arrived. "Miles knows too. He threatened you. Let's just get your hand looked at, okay?"

She lifts her head to look at him, stopping in her tracks. "I can't believe you're here. I mean . . . how?"

"To be honest, I fibbed a bit before," he says, catching himself. "Well, half-fibbed. I did wake up and find you gone, but I actually called Ashton. He told me to wait at the house for him, and when he showed up there was a whole SWAT team and a bunch of FBI agents with him. I swear I didn't know about him until tonight though."

Boo absently wipes some of the blood from her hand on her jeans. "That still doesn't explain you being here."

He sighs softly. "I know. Ashton tracked your phone to Nathaniel's house, and we followed you both here. I volunteered to come in first, I thought maybe I could defuse things. "

"What if Nathaniel had the gun? He would've killed you."

Shadows cross his face. "I know. But I had to try, I couldn't let you die alone. I meant it when I said it's you and me for good. Until the end."