The ravine was a jagged scar in the earth behind the estate. The overlook was a wooden platform that jutted out over the drop, neglected and rotting.

Jane arrived breathless but focused. She scanned the ground. The wood of the railing was gray and splintered. She took out the wrench and knelt by the main crossbeam. With quick, silent turns, she loosened the rusted bolts holding it to the support posts, leaving them clinging by only a few threads. The metal groaned softly. It wouldn't fail on its own, but it wouldn't withstand any real pressure.

She knelt on the path leading to the platform. She tied the fishing line between two saplings, low to the ground, hidden by the overgrown ferns. It was invisible in the moonlight.

She heard the crunch of gravel. High heels.

Jane stood up. She walked to the edge of the platform and stood with her back to the path. She waited.

"You actually came."

Alejandra's voice was mocking. A beam of light from a flashlight cut through the darkness, blinding Jane.

Jane turned slowly, shielding her eyes. "Alejandra? You said you had something to show me?"

Alejandra clicked the flashlight off. The moonlight was enough. She walked closer, her silver dress shimmering like fish scales.

"I do," Alejandra said. "I want to show you your place."

She stepped onto the platform. The wood groaned under her heels. She stalked toward Jane, her face twisted in a cruel smile. "You think because Daddy pays your tuition, you're one of us? You're nothing. You're a stain on this family."

Jane took a step back, feigning terror. "Please, Alejandra. It's dangerous here."

"Only for you," Alejandra spat.

She lunged. It was clumsy, fueled by champagne and entitlement. She reached out to shove Jane toward the railing, intending to scare her, to make her scream.

Jane didn't scream.

At the last possible second, Jane pivoted on her heel. It was a move from a self-defense class she had been forced to take in her past life after a mugging. She stepped aside with the grace of a matador.

Alejandra pushed empty air. Her momentum carried her forward. Her foot caught the fishing line Jane had strung across the entrance.

Alejandra gasped. She pitched forward, arms flailing. She slammed into the railing with her full weight.

The wood cracked. The loosened bolts groaned and sheared off.

There was a sharp snap, like a gunshot. The railing gave way.

Alejandra clawed at the air. Her fingers brushed the hem of Jane's jacket. Jane took a calm half-step back, out of reach.

Alejandra screamed. It was a long, thin sound that was swallowed by the darkness.

She fell.

Jane stood at the edge. She heard the body hit the slope below, the sound of tearing fabric, and then a sickening crunch as Alejandra landed in the rocky creek bed.

Silence.

Then, a moan. "My leg... oh god... my leg!"

Jane looked down. She picked up the flashlight Alejandra had dropped. She clicked it on and aimed it into the abyss.

Thirty feet down, Alejandra lay twisted among the rocks. Her leg was bent at an unnatural angle. Bone protruded through the skin, white against the red blood.

Alejandra looked up, her face a mask of agony and shock. She saw the light.

"Jane!" she shrieked. "Jane, help me! Call an ambulance! I'll give you anything!"

Jane stared down at her. The light didn't waver.

"Jane!" Alejandra sobbed. "Why aren't you moving?"

Jane clicked the flashlight off. The ravine plunged back into darkness.

"Calling for help," Jane whispered to the night air, "is an extra charge."

She knelt and untied the fishing line, winding it back onto the spool. Down below, Alejandra continued to scream, but to Jane, it sounded like the opening notes of a symphony she had waited ten years to conduct.

"Jane! Are you there? Please!"

Alejandra's voice was hoarse now, shredded by pain. Jane sat on a large rock near the edge of the cliff. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a mint. She unwrapped it slowly, the crinkle of the plastic loud in the quiet night. She popped it into her mouth.

She calculated the acoustics. The ravine was deep, the walls acting as a funnel that directed sound upward, away from the house. The party music was still thumping in the distance. No one would hear her.

"I'll pay you!" Alejandra begged. "I have money in my room! Ten thousand dollars!"

Jane chewed the mint. The cool flavor filled her mouth. She remembered the winter of 2018. She had been evicted. She had called Alejandra, begging for a loan to pay for heat. Alejandra had laughed and told her to sell her kidney.

"Does it hurt?" Jane asked softly, though Alejandra couldn't hear her. "Consider it interest."

She stood up and kicked a few loose stones over the edge. They clattered down the rock face.

"Jane?" Alejandra's voice pitched up in hope. "Is that you? Are you coming down?"

Jane didn't answer. She walked along the rim of the ravine, her mind a cold machine of calculation. Leaving Alejandra alive but broken was better than murder. A coma, a lifetime of rehabilitation-these were fates worse than a quick death for someone so vain. It created a power vacuum, a story of tragedy, not of crime.

She needed to make sure the scene told the right story. She walked back to the broken platform. She took the wrench and carefully retightened one of the remaining bolts on a post that hadn't fallen, then scuffed the area around the sheared-off bolts with a rock, making the metal fatigue look natural, a product of time and neglect rather than tampering.

Below, the sounds changed. The screaming stopped, replaced by ragged, painful breaths. Alejandra had likely passed out from the pain or was conserving her energy. Good. It gave Jane time.

She lay on her stomach and peered over the edge. In the moonlight, she could see the silver dress, a pale shimmer against the dark rocks. Unmoving. It was enough. The heiress was neutralized, taken off the board in a way that would sow chaos and grief, the perfect cover for what came next.

Jane stood up. She was just a shadow against the stars.

Alejandra had made a mistake. She had assumed Jane was a lamb to be slaughtered. But Jane was a ghost, already dead, and she had nothing left to lose.

Jane took a deep breath. She didn't need to go down. She had done what she came to do. The scene was set.

Her attention now turned to the Lodge. The night was far from over.

Jane retraced her steps from the overlook, her movements deliberate. She had one crucial piece of stage management left. She found Alejandra's phone lying in the grass where it had fallen from her hand, its glittery case winking in the moonlight.

The screen was cracked but functional. Jane's hands were steady now, no longer mimicking fear. She grabbed a leaf to avoid leaving fingerprints and pressed Alejandra's dropped designer hairpin against the screen to navigate.

Jane opened the camera app. She took three blurry photos of the trees and the rocks from the edge of the overlook, angling them to look like someone stumbling around in the dark, capturing the "beautiful" view.

Then she opened the messaging app. She started a new text to Kolby.

This place is trippy. You should see the view.

She didn't send it. She left it in the draft box. It suggested intent-that she was exploring, that she was high or drunk, that this was an adventure gone wrong.

She wiped the phone clean with her sleeve and tossed it over the edge. It clattered down the rock face, landing a few feet from where Alejandra's crumpled form lay. It would be found with the body, a perfect digital breadcrumb trail leading to a tragic, stupid accident.

A twig snapped in the woods nearby.

Jane froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. She melted back into the shadows of a large pine, her breath held tight in her chest. An owl hooted. Just an animal.

She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She checked her clothes. No blood. Just dirt.

She began to move, not back toward the manor, but on a parallel path through the woods, circling toward the hunting lodge. It was a brutal trek through the undergrowth. Her muscles burned, her lungs screaming for air. She clawed her way up a steep embankment, digging her fingers into the mud.

When she finally reached the manicured path leading to the Lodge, she collapsed behind a hedge for ten seconds, gasping. She checked her watch. 12:45 AM.

The first pawn was off the board. Alejandra was neutralized, a problem for doctors and lawyers now, not for her.

Jane turned toward the Lodge. Her legs felt heavy, but her mind was racing ahead. Alejandra was the easy part. Alejandra was predictable.

Kolby was a wildcard. Kolby was armed.

Jane reached into her sleeve and touched the packet of powder. The muscle relaxant mixed with whatever opioids Kolby was already on would be a lethal cocktail. But she couldn't just hope he overdosed. She needed to be the hand of fate.

She started walking toward the distant lights of the hunting lodge. The night was far from over.