For a long moment after Oliver’s comment, no one moved.
The patio door remained open.
Beyond it, the backyard lights glowed faintly over the empty grill.
Skeet Ulrich was gone.
The house seemed to inhale and hold it.
Trevor was the first to break the silence.
“…that was a joke, right?”
Oliver shrugged, smoke drifting from his mouth.
“In these movies?”
He flicked ash into a nearby glass.
“Nothing’s a joke.”
Emma crossed her arms and looked toward the patio.
“Okay.”
She pointed outside.
“Somebody go check on him.”
Nobody volunteered.
Rory Culkin immediately pointed at Mason.
“You’re the one who survives stabbings.”
Mason raised both hands.
“Whoa, whoa. Dewey logic doesn’t apply in real life.”
David Arquette nodded solemnly.
“He’s right.”
Then he paused.
“…also I died.”
Hayden groaned.
“This is ridiculous.”
She stood up.
“He’s getting charcoal.”
But before anyone could move—
The music abruptly cut.
The speakers crackled.
A burst of feedback screeched through the house.
Everyone jumped.
Then a voice filled the room.
Low.
Distorted.
Slow.
“Hello… actors.”
Every conversation stopped.
Oliver lowered the joint slowly.
The voice continued.
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“I see you’ve gathered.”
A faint static hum ran through the speakers.
“For a reunion.”
A pause.
“How touching.”
Jenna whispered:
“Oh my god.”
The voice continued calmly.
“You’re doing exactly what I expected.”
“You’re watching each other.”
“You’re staying close.”
“You’re trying to follow the rules.”
Another pause.
“But the rules…”
The voice deepened.
“…don’t apply anymore.”
Emma hammered the sound system remote.
Nothing changed.
The voice continued.
“Ghostface had rules.”
“But I’m not Ghostface.”
The speakers hummed softly.
“I’m something new.”
A whisper.
“Scream-Face.”
Several people instinctively glanced toward the patio again.
The voice continued.
“And yes…”
“…one of you might already be dead.”
The room erupted with murmurs.
Trevor swore quietly.
“Or maybe not.”
The voice sounded almost amused now.
“Maybe Skeet Ulrich is alive.”
“Maybe he’s the killer.”
“Maybe he’s bleeding out beside the grill.”
David Arquette shook his head.
“Okay, that’s not funny.”
The voice continued calmly.
“You’re all wondering the same thing.”
“How many of you survive this movie?”
A pause.
“I promise you…”
“…not many.”
The voice softened.
“You wanted another sequel.”
“Well.”
“You’re living in it.”
The speakers clicked.
Silence returned.
For half a second nobody spoke.
Then chaos exploded.
“Call the police!”
“Did anyone see Skeet leave?”
“Where’s security?”
“What the hell was that?!”
Oliver raised his voice over the noise.
“Okay.”
The room slowly quieted again.
“New rule.”
Jamie Kennedy sighed dramatically.
“Oh great.”
Oliver pointed around the room.
“Nobody goes anywhere alone.”
Emma nodded immediately.
“Groups.”
She started directing people like a film set coordinator.
“Three or four each.”
The house fractured into smaller clusters.
Mason Gooding leaned against the couch beside Jasmin Savoy Brown, Jenna Ortega, and Jamie Kennedy.
Jamie gestured around the room.
“This is exactly why Randy had rules.”
Jasmin crossed her arms.
“You also died in your own franchise.”
Jamie shrugged.
“Look, nobody’s perfect.”
Jenna whispered:
“Do you think Skeet’s actually dead?”
Mason shook his head.
“If he is, this party just got way worse.”
Across the room Oliver, Melissa Barrera, Marie, and Trevor clustered together.
Melissa crossed her arms.
“So the killer hates Ghostface actors.”
Oliver nodded slowly.
“Seems that way.”
Trevor frowned.
“And Skeet played the first one.”
Marie added quietly:
“Which means if he’s actually outside…”
Trevor finished it.
“…he’s either dead or the killer.”
Oliver took another thoughtful puff.
“Those are the two classic options.”
Melissa groaned.
“Great.”
Near the bar stood Laurie Metcalf, Mikey Madison, Rory Culkin, and Hayden Panettiere.
Rory looked toward the patio.
“I really don’t like this.”
Mikey nodded.
“Yeah.”
Hayden leaned against the counter.
“Statistically speaking…”
She gestured around the room.
“…someone in this house is absolutely the killer.”
Laurie sipped her wine calmly.
“Oh, without question.”
Rory blinked.
“…that was way too confident.”
Laurie smiled pleasantly.
“Experience.”
Across the house Oliver suddenly frowned.
“…wait.”
Marie looked at him.
“What?”
Oliver scanned the room.
“…where’s Neve?”
The words landed like a dropped glass.
Everyone looked around.
The living room.
The hallway.
The kitchen.
Nothing.
Trevor frowned.
“She was here two minutes ago.”
Melissa whispered:
“That’s not good.”
Before anyone could react—
The front door creaked open.
Every head turned.
Neve Campbell stepped inside.
Scott Foley stood beside her.
Behind them, Liana Liberato entered quietly.
Neve raised her hands slightly.
“Relax.”
The tension in the room loosened.
Emma exhaled.
“Where were you?”
Neve brushed hair behind her ear.
“Phone call.”
Scott nodded.
“We ran into each other in the hallway.”
Liana added:
“We figured we should stay together.”
Oliver nodded approvingly.
“Smart.”
Neve glanced toward the patio.
“Has anyone found Skeet yet?”
The room fell quiet again.
Trevor shook his head.
“No.”
Neve looked between Scott and Liana.
“Then we should probably…”
She gave a tired smile.
“…stick together.”
Scott nodded.
“Agreed.”
Liana stepped closer to them.
Three survivors standing shoulder to shoulder.
Across the room Oliver watched them carefully.
He took another slow drag.
Something about the moment felt off.
But he couldn’t quite place it.
Outside—
The grill continued to hiss quietly in the dark.
