Previously…
– Sophie’s “Shannon” persona set a trap for Sabrina by leaving the gas stove on, but when the earthquake happened, Sophie re-emerged and went to a neighbor’s house for safety.
– While Rosie waited at the Taylor home for Brent, the earthquake struck, and her water broke.
– The earthquake took out power at the hospital, leaving Isaac, Sienna, and their daughter stuck in an elevator.
– The quake caused Lucy to be pinned under debris in the apartment’s parking garage.
– Spencer and Sonja were trapped together at the jail following the earthquake.
– Samantha was driving to meet Tempest when the quake occurred, and their phone call cut off abruptly.

Jason Fisher steps carefully down the stairs from the second floor of Edge of Winter Arena, one hand trailing along the railing as he looks around the building below.

The arena, empty other than for him, is still standing. That feels like something of a miracle. There are signs of the earthquake everywhere, but nothing catastrophic. A few ceiling tiles have shifted. A stack of paperwork has spilled across the reception desk. The rental skates that normally sit in neat rows along the wall have tumbled from their shelves, scattered across the floor like someone knocked over a display.

Jason stops and looks at them. For a moment, he just takes it in. Then he shakes his head, lets out a quiet breath, and bends down to pick one up.

“Okay,” he mutters to himself. “Could’ve been worse.”

He places the skate back on the shelf. His phone comes out of his pocket.

No service.

He frowns and tries again, moving toward the front doors as if a few extra feet might somehow help.

Nothing.

“Come on.” He pulls up Sabrina’s number and calls. The call fails almost immediately. Jason looks at the screen, then tries Sophie. Same result.

His expression changes. It isn’t panic that he feels, at least not yet, but concern.

He looks around the arena again, suddenly less interested in the damage around him and more aware of everything he can’t see. Sabrina and Sophie should both be at home.

He tries Sabrina one more time. Nothing again. Now he pockets the phone.

“Okay,” he says quietly. Decision made, he feels for the keys in his pocket and heads for the exit.

Outside in the parking lot , the city is already moving. People are standing in the streets, looking up at buildings. Cars sit at odd angles as drivers try to figure out where to go next. Sirens blare in the distance.

Jason looks back at the arena. It’s still standing. The damage is not that bad. Hoping that is also the case at home, he hurries to his car.

—–

The apartment building’s parking garage is almost unrecognizable. Concrete dust hangs in the air. Pieces of the ceiling and support structures have collapsed around the cars, creating a maze of broken stone and twisted metal.

Landon Esco digs through the debris with both hands. He doesn’t even feel the cuts on his palms.

“Lucy!”

A beat.

Then—

“Landon. I’m still here.” The sound of her voice nearly breaks him. He continues aside smaller pieces of debris as quickly as he can.

“Okay. Okay, I hear you. I’m going to get you out.”

“I know…” Her voice sounds strained, still muffled by whatever she is pinned beneath.

“No, I mean it. I’m going to get you out.”

Another groan moves through the cavernous space. Landon freezes. For half a second, he looks up. Then he turns back toward the pile of debris and Lucy.

“Don’t move.”

Lucy lets out a weak laugh. “Wasn’t exactly planning on going anywhere.”

The joke lands, but it doesn’t make him smile.

He reaches toward a larger piece of concrete blocking the opening. He pulls, but it will not budge. He tries again. Still impossible.

“Landon?”

“I’ve got it.” His jaw tightens. “I will.” He pulls again, but the concrete will not move. Finally, he takes out his phone. The screen lights up, but when he looks at the top righthand corner, there is no signal.

He tries anyway.

All the phone does is screech in his ear.

“Come on…”

Lucy sounds panicked now. “Are you trying 911?”

“Yeah.”

“Phones are down?”

He reminds himself not to give her any more reason to worry.

“I don’t know. I think so,” he says flatly. He puts the phone away and looks back toward the debris. “Someone will come.”

Lucy doesn’t answer… because they both know they don’t know that. Landon places both hands against the concrete again. This time, slower, more carefully.

“I’m here,” he says.

“I know.”

He pushes with all his might.

The emergency lights cast the hospital elevator in a dim orange glow.

Noelle clings to Sienna Ridley, her small arms wrapped tightly around her mother’s neck.

“I don’t like this,” she whispers.

“I know, sweetie.” Sienna smooths a hand over her daughter’s hair. “I don’t either.”

“Why can’t we get out?”

“We will,” Isaac Banks says, forcing a reassuring smile. “Somebody’s just… fixing it.”

Noelle looks over at him. Then she buries her face back into Sienna’s shoulder. Isaac’s smile fades, and Sienna notices.

She shifts Noelle slightly higher on her hip. “I’m sorry.”

Isaac shakes his head. “For what?”

“For this.” She glances toward Noelle. “For all of it.”

A quiet settles over the elevator.

“I kept telling myself I didn’t need you.”

Isaac looks down at the floor. “I know.”

“I wanted to believe I could do everything on my own.”

Another pause. “I thought…” She laughs bitterly. “I guess it was spite. I wanted to believe I could do it on my own. And since you left…”

“I had a pretty good reason, Sienna. And I didn’t know…” Though his words trail off, his raised eyebrows indicate their daughter, who still has her face pressed into Sienna’s neck.

“I was the one who made the mistake.” Her voice catches. “Then when you left, I convinced myself you didn’t really want to… didn’t want this,” she says carefully.

“I didn’t even know this was a thing.”

She closes her eyes.

Noelle looks up. “Mommy? Are you scared, too?

Sienna kisses the top of her head. “I mean, I don’t love being in an elevator for longer than I need to. But Daddy is right. It’ll get fixed soon.”

Isaac steps a little closer. “You love her. You’re a good mom.”

Sienna looks down at Noelle. “I’m trying.”

Isaac catches Noelle’s eye as she peers out again. “Hey.”

She peeks at him.

“You know what I think?” he asks.

“What?”

“I think your mom is the bravest person in this elevator.”

Noelle smiles for the first time since the quake. “I think so, too.”

Isaac’s eyes meet Sienna’s now. “I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad you found me.”

Sienna doesn’t speak. She just nods. For the first time in years, the silence between them doesn’t feel like a wall.

Outside the elevator, they hear voices. Then, a metallic clang. Isaac’s head turns toward the doors.

“Hello?” he shouts, stepping forward. “We’re in here!”

—–

Another contraction tears through Rosie Jimenez‘s body.

She doubles over, gripping the edge of the loveseat in Molly and Brent Taylor’s living room. “Oh—”

Molly, just across the coffee table, is already reaching for her phone.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” She taps the screen with shaking fingers. “I’m calling 911.”

The call begins. But nothing happens. There is no ringing, no dispatcher — just silence.

“No…” Molly ends the call and tries again, to no avail.

“They’re probably overloaded,” Rosie manages through clenched teeth.

“They have to answer somebody.”

“They will.” Rosie forces herself to take a slow breath. “Just… maybe not us yet.”

“Brent can get someone here,” Molly declares, and Rosie feels the faintest flare of hope. Maybe he could…

Molly places the call. Once again, the line is dead. Molly’s expression gives it away immediately.

She lowers the phone, her mind racing. “I’ll drive you.”

Rosie looks up. “What?”

“We’ll get in the car. We’ll go to the hospital ourselves.”

Another contraction builds. Rosie squeezes her eyes shut. “I don’t…” She struggles to breathe through the pain. “I don’t know if we should.”

“Why not?”

“What if the roads are blocked?” Rosie asks between breaths. “What if… traffic lights are out? What if we get stuck?”

Molly opens her mouth. Nothing comes out.

“What if I have this baby in the car?”

“You… you won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Another wave hits. Rosie cries out, instinctively reaching out for Molly’s hand. “Oh, God…”

“I’ve got you.” Molly kneels beside her. “Look at me.”

Rosie tries.

“No. Breathe first.” Molly inhales slowly. Rosie follows. “Good.”

They take another breath.

“That’s it.”

Rosie’s grip loosens just enough that Molly can breathe again herself.

Across the room, the television remains frozen where the earthquake interrupted the broadcast. The cartoon Dexter’s Laboratory is frozen onscreen; Dexter stands on the screen with one finger raised, forever caught in the middle of whatever impossible invention had occupied him moments before.

Rosie fixes her eyes on it.

“Good,” Molly says softly, following her gaze without understanding why. “Keep looking there.”

Rosie nods. “I need…” She takes another measured breath. “I need something else to think about.”

“Then think about that.”

Another contraction begins. Molly, sensing it, squeezes Rosie’s hand just as it hits.

“Breathe with me, Rosie.”

Rosie never takes her eyes off the frozen television. In. Out. In. Out.

—–

In a private visitation room at the jail, Sonja Kahele leans against the base of the metal table, cradling her injured arm against her chest.

“I need you to do something,” she says, her voice trembling.

Spencer Ragan looks at her skeptically. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

A weak smile crosses her face despite the pain. “My shoulder’s dislocated. I need you to help me put it back.”

He winces. “Oh, absolutely not.”

“Spencer.”

“I have no idea how to do that.”

“I’ll walk you through it.”

She takes a slow, uneven breath. Spencer closes the gap between them, leaving the blocked door abandoned for now. Across the room, the guard who was monitoring their visit lies, unconscious but alive.

“You’ll put one hand here.” She gestures carefully toward her upper arm with her good hand. “The other…” She swallows. “…on my wrist.”

He hesitates.

“If we leave it like this, it’ll just keep getting worse,” Sonja says through gritted teeth. “I’m going to pass out.”

Spencer exhales. “Okay.”

He steps closer. “This is probably going to hurt, yeah?”

Sonja lets out a humorless laugh. “I’ve set enough of these to know that’s how this will go. But a few moments of pain are a worthwhile trade-off.”

He follows her instructions as carefully as he can. “Ready?”

“No. But yes.”

Spencer steadies her arm. Sonja sets her jaw and fixes her gaze on the cinder block wall ahead. “Now.”

Her shoulder goes pop, pop, pop in rapid succession, and Sonja cries out. Then — the tension leaves her shoulders almost immediately. Her body sinks down with relief. She closes her eyes.

“Oh…”

Spencer quickly lets go. “You okay?”

She nods several times before she can speak. “Much… better.”

He lets out the breath he has been holding. “I’m adding orthopedic surgeon to my résumé.”

Despite herself, Sonja laughs. It lasts only a second. A loud crackling noise draws their attention back toward the unconscious correctional officer.

“His radio,” Sonja says.

Spencer hurries over, kneels beside him, and unclips the walkie-talkie from his belt.

“Control, this is the visitation room.” He presses the transmit button. “Can anybody hear me?” He looks to Sonja. “Copy? Is that what I say?”

But only static answers. He tries again, but only receives the faint buzzing of static in response. He lowers the radio.

“No one’s answering.”

Sonja watches him quietly. “Thank you.”

He shrugs. “You spent months getting me in and out of my wheelchair, helping me get dressed, getting things off shelves for me. I guess we’re even.”

The words hit Sonja harder than the pain did. Even. She stares at him.

“You really believe that.”

Spencer frowns. “What?”

“That I helped you.

“You did.”

She looks away. A tear escapes before she can stop it. “I lied to you, Spencer. I lied to all of you. Long before the… what I did to Loretta.”

He goes still. “What does that mean?”

Silence fills the room until Sonja sucks in a breath.

Her voice barely rises above a whisper. “Maybe this is all karma for what I did. I knew better. But I did it anyway.”

Spencer clutches the walkie-talkie tighter. “What are you talking about?”

“I need to clear my conscience,” she says, as if in a trance. “I need to be honest. Finally.”

“About what?” Spencer presses, annoyance seeping into his tone.

“It’s time I told you the truth,” Sonja says, trying her best to look at him.

Samantha Fisher stands beside her car outside Cassie’s Coffee House. For a moment, she doesn’t move. She just stares. The front of the building is damaged. Part of the exterior has collapsed inward, debris scattered across the sidewalk. The familiar windows are shattered. The colorful sign that has welcomed customers for years hangs crookedly above the entrance.

“No…”

Samantha runs toward the rubble. “Tempest!”

Her voice echoes against the street.

People are everywhere: neighbors, customers, strangers who stopped to help. Everyone is trying to figure out what happened, what comes next. But Samantha only sees the devastation.

“Tempest!” She moves closer — too close. A firefighter rushing toward the building spots her.

“Ma’am!”

She doesn’t stop.

“My fiancée is in there.”

The firefighter reaches her and gently grabs her arm.

“Ma’am, you need to move back.”

“No.” Samantha pulls against him. “She’s in there–“

“I understand, but the structure isn’t stable.”

“I need to find her.”

“We’re going to find everyone we can.”

The words don’t comfort her. Everyone. As if Tempest is just one possibility. Samantha looks past him toward the building.

Then comes a voice. It is faint but unmistakable.

“Samantha?”

She freezes. The firefighter turns. Samantha’s eyes widen.

“Tempest? Tempest!”

She pulls away from the firefighter before he can stop her. The figure emerges from around the side of the building, covered in dust but walking. Tempest Banks.

They collide in a desperate embrace.

“Oh my God.” She holds onto Tempest like letting go isn’t an option. “I thought…” She can’t finish.

“I know,” Tempest says quietly. She wraps her arms around Sam. “I’m okay.”

Samantha pulls back just enough to look at her. “Are you hurt?”

Tempest shakes her head. “No. Not really. That was some crazy shit. The window blew out — then part of a wall came down.”

Samantha touches her face, as if confirming she’s real. “I thought…”

“I know.”

Tempest pulls her close again. For a moment, the noise of the street disappears. The sirens, the shouting, the cracking of damaged buildings. All of it fades to nothing. All that remains is the two of them, untouched and alive.

—–

Jason’s Audi pulls into the driveway. For a moment, he just sits there. The neighborhood is almost unrecognizable. Cars are parked at bizarre angles. Neighbors stand outside, talking in worried voices. A few houses show visible damage.

But his house is still standing. It actually looks fine. Normal.

He grabs his keys and gets out.

“Sophie? Sabrina?” he calls to the air. There is no answer, so he heads toward the front door.

Inside, the house is quiet. Almost too quiet.

“Soph! Sabrina!”

He moves through the entryway, stepping carefully around a few fallen picture frames and scattered pieces of glass.

He takes his phone out again. No signal. Jason exhales, frustrated, and pockets it.

“Okay.” He looks around. “Where are you guys?”

He moves deeper into the house. The kitchen is a mess. Cabinets have swung open. Plates and glasses cover the floor. A chair has been knocked sideways.

Then he stops. Something isn’t right. The smell hits him. He frowns.

Gas.

His eyes move around the room, passing over a broken cabinet… a fallen salt shaker on the counter… the stove.

One of the burners is on. He stares at it. For a moment, he can’t understand what he’s seeing. Then instinct takes over.

“Okay…” He steps forward carefully. He reaches out for the knob, then hesitates. But the smell of seeping gas is too troublesome to ignore. Slowly he turns the knob.

A sudden flash of flame erupts across the kitchen. The sound is deafening. He feels himself being thrown backward.

For a moment, there is nothing. Only ringing. Smoke begins to fill the room.

Jason lies on the floor, stunned, trying to understand what happened. Then he forces himself to move.

“Sophie…” His voice is weak. “Sabrina…”

Outside, a neighbor screams for help. The smoke alarm begins to blare.

END OF EPISODE 1312

Can Jason escape the house in time?
Is Sonja going to tell Spencer the truth?
Will Rosie give birth safely?
Talk about it all in the comments!