Holly Baxter's POV

From that night on, whenever I gave the signal, Keegan was there.

A simple text or a call, and he would arrive within minutes. We established an extraordinary rhythm, an intimacy far deeper than anything I'd ever had with Beckham.

His height, stamina, and presence made the whole experience vastly more enjoyable.

I felt a twinge of regret that I hadn't made this decision sooner, instead wasting so much time on Beckham.

I carefully deleted any incriminating chat logs from his phone. I regularly "borrowed" his phone to check the group chat, keeping myself updated on their schemes.

I stopped searching for Beckham. My anxiety dissipated right along with it.

Beckham, however, was starting to panic.

He texted the group: "Has anyone heard from Holly? She hasn't called in days."

"Maybe she's just tired," Servant 1 replied.

"No way. Holly would keep looking no matter how tired she is. Something must be wrong. Should I go back?"

Kiara shot back: "Don't you dare, Beckham! She's probably just trying to provoke you. Let her suffer a little longer."

Beckham: "Fine."

Later that night, Keegan's phone rang with an unknown number.

Keegan and I were in the middle of making out.

I leaned over, answered the call myself, and held the phone to Keegan's ear.

"Hey, man, how's it going? Is Holly doing okay?" Beckham's voice came through.

"She's... fine," Keegan said, his voice husky.

"Dude, is there a girl with you? You sound weird."

"No, it's just... a movie."

I leaned close to Keegan's ear and whispered, "Keegan, focus. You're getting distracted."

Dead silence.

Then Beckham's voice suddenly erupted: "Keegan?! Who the hell are you with?!"

Holly Baxter's POV

Keegan's body tensed. He reached up and covered the phone's microphone.

"Just a girl I know," he said, keeping his voice as steady as possible. "You don't know her."

"She sounded like Holly," Beckham's muffled voice filtered through.

Keegan hung up.

He pulled me close again. "Don't worry about him. I won't get distracted anymore."

I pushed lightly against his chest. "Do you think he'll come here?"

Keegan blinked.

"He's staying at his cousin's place by the lake, right? About a thirty-minute drive."

He narrowed his eyes. "How do you know that?"

"I know a lot of things, Keegan. Like the fact that Beckham was never missing. I saw him at a bar the other day."

His expression cycled through shock, guilt, and sudden realization.

"So you've known all along," he whispered. "This whole time."

"Yes."

"Are you mad?"

"I was. Very briefly. Then I realized he wasn't worth my anger."

When I spotted Beckham at the bar, I didn't yell or confront him.

Since he could treat my genuine feelings like a joke, he didn't deserve my love.

"Keegan, is there anything else you want to tell me?"

He was the only one who had hesitated, opposing the fake disappearance.

So why did he agree to help Beckham with his little "missing" game?

"I owed him a favor. A debt from years ago. He held it over my head." He spilled everything—Beckham's manipulation and his own reluctance. "I shouldn't have lied to you, Holly. I'm truly sorry."

"Don't apologize. Actually, I'm glad you were part of it."

He looked utterly confused. "Glad?"

I cupped his chin. "Keegan, are you willing to betray them? Are you willing to be my partner in crime?"