The power plant felt abandoned, its silence suffocating. Every step they took echoed through the cavernous halls, magnified in the emptiness.

"Stop playing hide-and-seek!" Esme's voice bounced off the walls.

Jason's gloved hands shimmered with faint blue light, illuminating the dark hallway as he crept forward. Rows of crooked plaques and tarnished awards clung to the walls, like memories the plant abandoned.

Now and then, a map or a sign pointing to the restroom flickered past. The whole plant felt like a ghost town, but the occasional clang or distant shuffle that reminded them they were far from alone.

"Alright, when we do find them, I'll try not kill my brother," Jason sighed.

Dealing with Greyson was the last thing on his mind. Outside, people were freezing, desperate for warmth. And somewhere Bella was out there—Jason couldn't shake the worry gnawing at him.

"I'm surprised the snow globe hasn't come chasing you," Bryce said, arms folded casually behind his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Esme groaned, hands planted firmly on her hips. "Can't I just run ahead and find them myself?"

Jason shot her a quick glance from the shadows, about to speak, when a deafening clang echoed through the plant—metal slamming into metal with a reverberating shock that rattled his bones.

"That way," Jade's voice cut through, pointing down the hallway to the left.

Jason surged forward, but the weight of his bulky snowsuit threw him off balance, and he crashed to the floor. The impact wasn't as painful as usual, but it still left him cursing under his breath.

"Jason's turning into Tumbles," Bryce chuckled.

Squinting against the darkness, Jason spotted the looming shadows of massive turbines below—tangled pipes and control panels, all frozen in place.

A blinding beam of light struck his eyes, forcing him to shield his face. Before he could react, a heavy steel pipe hurtled through the air toward him.

Jason flung his hands forward, a surge of blue light crackling across his palms. The pipe hissed and melted mid-air, but the remaining shard struck his shoulder with a bone-jarring thud, sending him staggering backward.

"Well, well," a familiar voice called out, dripping with mockery. "It's been a while, brother."

Jason glared as below him, Greyson stood casually against a control console, a cold smile across his lips.

"Looks like the hydro is out," Greyson said coldly. "And this snowstorm and illness, that thing is responsible for."

Jason clenched his fists, his glowing gloves pulsing with barely restrained energy. "And how exactly do you plan to restart it?"

Greyson's smirk deepened, clearly relishing the tension. "James figured it out," he said pridefully.

Jason took a deliberate forward, his gaze locking on his brother's. Greyson didn't flinch, but the tension between them felt like it could snap at any moment.

"If you two are going to start a dramatic show, take it outside," Scarlett's voice sliced through the air as she stepped out of the control room.

"I'm not here to fight," Jason shot back.

"Then what are you here for?" Greyson challenged.

Working with Greyson had always been a battle, and that wasn't about to change.

"To give Lukey another makeover," Esme chimed in as she raced down the metal steps, almost losing her balance.

"I've been waiting to kill you," Luke voice slithered out from the shadows, dripping with malice.

Bryce perched on the stairs, his smirking widening. "Using that wet noodle arm? Maybe you should cook it," he sneered.

Luke's so-called "noodle arm" writhed unnaturally, curling around his torso like a living whip. Jason's skin crawled at the sight of it. That grotesque limb was more than just a weapon; it was a reminder of everything twisted about Luke.

If he had the chance, Jason wouldn't hesitate to burn it off—and Luke—with it.

Luke took a step closer, his grin darkening into something sadistic. "Bryce."

"Too bad I'm not with the crackheads," Bryce said, smirking. "Guess Luke's too scared to lose to a girl like him."

"She's nothing like me!" Luke barked defensively.

Jason barely had time to wonder who Bryce was talking about before Greyson's voice sliced through the tension.

"You helped Jason?" Greyson demanded, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm the Uber driver, since Jason sucks at driving," Bryce sneered, barely dodging Jason's glare. "His dumbass burned his wrist."

Luke laughed and Scarlett had her eyebrows raised. Greyson now seemed amused rather than angry. "How unfortunate," he said.

Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the frustration. "Look, I don't want to fight, okay?"

He knew that line wouldn't work on Greyson. His brother never backed down, and their history was nothing but a series of clashes, each worse than the last.

"That's a tall order in a place like this," Greyson replied, gesturing into the darkness. "You banished me from Simcoe, hunted me down. Now we're starving, cold, and sick."

A thunderous slam rattled the floor beneath them, cutting through the tension like a gunshot.

"Be careful!" James shouted, his voice trembling from the cold.

"Jason doesn't like it when I do what I want," Greyson added, grinning mockingly.

"It broke!" James cried, panic rising in his voice.

Before anyone could move, Esme darted past like a blur, fast as a bullet.

Jason snapped back to reality just in time to see Luke advancing, a wicked grin curling across his face.

"Well, well, Dipstick," Luke sneered. "Where's your little girlfriend now?"

Before Jason could answer, a searing pain tore ripped through his side. His coat tore open, blood trickling down his cheek, cold against his skin. Every instinct screamed to retreat, but he stood his ground.

Luke flexed his grotesque, coiled arm. "See this? That ugly thing gave me this beauty."

Jason unleashed a burst of crackling blue light. Luke staggered, his coat smoking and scorched, eyes flashing with fury.

Suddenly, water gushed from a ruptured pipe, pooling rapidly around their feet. The cold liquid splashed onto Jason's boots, sending a sharp chill racing up his spine.

Greyson's eyes gleamed. "Perfect."

"Perfect? That's a water leak," Esme shot back.

Jason drew in a harsh breath. His gear was shredded, icy wind biting at every exposed inch of skin. Pain pulsed through his muscles, each hit weighing him down.

"It's just only section," James called out. "But we still need to crack inside before it spreads further."

"If it sparks, are we dead?" Greyson asked.

James's eyes darted nervously around the machine. "Yes. One spark and the entire plant goes up in flames. If the water freezes, it'll seal the pipe shut for good."

Suddenly, a heavy metal beam swung from the shadows, slamming Jason into the corner. Ice dug into his back, pain jolting through him as he fought to stay upright.

"Sit there," Greyson barked.

"Jade, freeze the water!" Esme shouted.

Jade snapped her wrist, sending a ripple of force. The water froze instantly, encasing Luke's ankle in solid ice. He cursed and yanked hard, but the ice barely cracked.

Greyson's eyes blazed with fury. He raised a heavy pipe with unseen force and hurled and hurled it at Jade. It struck her squarely, knocking her off her feet and sending her sprawling.

Esme rushed to Jason's side, grabbing his arm to help him up. But his vision swam, the room spinning as dizziness threatened to pull him under.

As Jason regained his footing, he felt a soft tap on his shoulder. He spun—but no one was there. His eyes narrowed, scanning the gloom. Then, out of nowhere, Preston's disembodied form appeared in front of him.

Jason wavered on his feet, arms outstretched, light glowing in his palms toward Greyson. A blue light arched toward Greyson, barely grazing his parka—the rest sizzled hissed uselessly against the ice, undoing Jade's freeze.

"Well, that's better than me slamming this pipe down," Greyson said, his hands on his hips.

"Maybe grab get a mop and clean up your mess," Scarlett quipped with a smirk, earning a frown from Greyson.

"So, is this what passes for a rematch?" Greyson asked, tilting his head with mock curiosity.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go—not in Jason's mind. Plan or no plan, he wouldn't let Greyson win.

The daycare was freezing. Crying and whining ricocheted off the walls, a storm of chaos swirling through the dim, ice-bitten room. Some of the kids children were hungry, others shivering—but all of them were scared.

Ilya sat in the corner, trying to hold herself together. She picked up a worn book and began to read aloud, her voice trembling but steady enough to offer the children—and herself—a fragile distraction from the rising panic.

The door creaked open, letting in a blast of icy wind. Angel stepped inside, his boots crunching over scattered toys as he stumbled forward, his hood pulled tight against the cold.

"Aaron didn't make it," Angel said, barely more than a whisper.

The words hit Ilya like packed ice to the chest. She saw him in her mind, cheeks red and windburned, laughing as he ran through the snowfall. He didn't know the storm would he this bad.

Her stomach twisted, and a cold weight settled over her chest. Tears blurred her vision, but she couldn't let the children see her crumble. Not here, not now. She forced herself to breathe slowly, counting in her head while clutching the edge of the table.

The absence of her medication gnawed at her. She hadn't taken antidepressants in weeks, and the weight pressed against her skull like something trying to claw its way out. Her limbs were trembling—not just from the cold, but from the sharp anxiety twisting her gut.

She made her way to the bathroom, where a single battery-powered candle flickered beside the sink, casting shadows across the walls.

The past four months had been brutal—not because of the children, but because of her own struggles. Melany's death, Cindy's disappearance from the infirmary, and the dwindling supplies had all taken their toll.

She'd been vomiting randomly from withdrawal, hiding it from everyone. She couldn't let them see how bad it had gotten—it only made it harder to get the pills she needed.

Ilya wiped her eyes and stumbled back into the room. The children were huddled together, wrapped in blankets and jackets. She could only hope that, after what had happened those past months, she wouldn't have to face this kind of fear again.

"How's Emma doing?" Ilya asked.

"Apparently she fainted," Angel replied. "A girl named Hanna is handling the infirmary."

Ilya nodded, though her heart sank. Emma would risk her own health to help them—it could have been the only reason she fainted. Or maybe it was simply hunger and anxiety catching up with her.

"Jason is off doing something," Angel added. "Zane's digging trenches for warmth with some freaks."

The word "freaks" wasn't an insult anymore—it was shorthand for people with supernatural powers. Most freaks ended up helping somewhere—healing the sick, running errands, or doing whatever was needed.

Layla came over, rubbing her eyes. "Did the storm knock out the hydro?"

"That's what people are saying," Angel answered.

No electricity meant no lights, no heat—nothing to keep them warm. How could they survive like that? Didn't people die of hypothermia when left in the cold for too long?

Ilya's head throbbed. Her thoughts spiralled out of control. She needed to calm down—but all she could think about were her antidepressants.

"I need to get some medication," Ilya said, swaying unsteadily on her feet.

She moved toward the door. The wind howled outside, clawing at the hinges as if trying to rip it open. She wrapped a towel around her mouth and nose, tightened her coat, and stepped into the storm.

Snow lashed at her face like burning sand, biting any strip of exposed skin until it stung and prickled as if scorched.

Her vision narrowed to the flashes of buildings and dark shapes of people darting like shadows through white fog. The cold stabbed at her legs and her breath froze inside her scarf.

She headed toward the faint outline of the church. After stumbling down a snowbank, she pushed inside and followed the sound of coughing into the infirmary basement.

Rows of bodies lay across the floor, wrapped in mismatched blankets and coats. Some moaned weakly; others were eerily silent. Buckets overflowed with vomit, and the sour stench of sickness clung to the air so thick it was hard to breathe.

Hanna looked up from a tray of supplies. Dark bags shadowed her eyes, and her gloves were stained with grime.

"If you're looking for Emma," Hanna rasped. "She's at her house, resting."

Emma wouldn't have what Ilya needed. Though gifted with the ability to heal even the most severe wounds quickly, Emma avoided gruesome injuries—she could barely stand the sight of them.

"Um... hi," Ilya said. "Do you have anything for headaches or shaking?"

Ilya nodded to herself, realizing that headache medication could also help with the shaking and anxiety that had been plaguing her body.

Hanna frowned. "The infirmary's medication is restricted."

Ilya's heart raced as she gripped the fabric of her snow pants. She knew she needed to find another way—or she wouldn't be able to function.

"Please?" Ilya pleaded. "Just three. I won't come back anytime soon."

Hanna glanced at the sick bodies around them and let out a heavy sigh. She reached out, poured three pills into her palm, and handed them to Ilya.

"I'll give you three," Hanna said sternly. "Don't take them all in one day."

Ilya knew she shouldn't—but the sight of pills in her hand stirred an overwhelming desire. She needed them to quiet her anxiety gnawing at her.

She quickly slipped the pills into her pocket, and cautiously wove through the coughing, moaning bodies. Mark entered the room, stared at her silently, then nodded.

The snowstorm had forced everyone to stay indoors, making even the simplest task—like opening the daycare door—a struggle.

Ilya rushed into the bathroom, not even bothering to remove her snow pants. She shut the door and pressed her back against it, staring at the three pills. Her chest thumped wildly, her stomach twisting with a mix of fear and craving.

She swallowed one dry. It scraped down her throat, and she coughed, pressing a hand to her chest as her heart lurched. Warmth spread outward, but it didn't quiet the tremor in her hands.

Instead, the single pill only sharpened her ache for another. One wasn't enough. One would never be enough.

Glancing at her reflection in the darkened mirror, she flinched. Her dark eyes looked too big for her gaunt face, her cheeks hollow and shadowed. She barely recognized the girl staring back—a ghost of herself, caught between hunger, exhaustion and the pull of pills.

Struggling to open the door, she nearly stumbled into the wall. "Are you okay, Ilya?" Sofia rushed to her side, clutching her leg.

Sofia, a precocious five-year-old, often tried to act older than her age. She enjoyed looking at picture books with the younger kids.

"I'm okay," Ilya replied, breathless.

"My mommy says we should always help people who fall," Sofia said earnestly.

Ilya's parents had been some of her last thoughts over the past four months. Though she missed them dearly, other concerns took precedence now. All of the children in her care depended on her. Sleep came sparingly, but she knew she had to keep going—for their sake.

She pushed aside thoughts of food shortages and the illness, forcing herself to focus on the children—and on making sure she had enough pills to steady her for another each day.

Bella's lips curled into a bitter grimace as Cindy's words echoed in her mind. They'd been sharp, dismissive, and too casual for a world this dangerous. Staying inside wasn't cowardice. It was survival.

The storm could burn skin raw, and no one really knew what prowled beyond the snow-cloaked streets.

Jason was still out there, at the power plant. The thought clawed at her nerves. That maze of steel and blackout, unpredictable even in calm weather. If something happened to him out there...

She pressed a gloved hand to her stomach, trying to settle the anxious knots twisting inside.

Jason was her anchor in this chaos. Four months ago, when Luke killed Teagan and no adults came to fix it, he had held her together.

Her gaze slid to the coat and scarf hanging on the rack. The safe choice was to stay. But beneath the fear, something fiercer pulsed—the need to know he was okay mattered more than the storm.

She pulled on her heavy coat, bundling tight, and shoved her hands into thick gloves. As she opened the door, the wind screamed in her face.

Most people were buried indoors, clinging to what heat they could. But not her. She had to find Jason.

Snow swallowed the world in suffocating white. Each step sank knee-deep; each breath burned. When her legs began to tremble with fatigue, a dark shape appeared ahead, cutting through the storm.

"Hey!" she shouted, her voice muffled by her scarf.

Zane turned toward her, gripping a blue pool tarp stretched over a jagged hole in the ground. The wind howled, tugging at the tarp's edges.

"Bella?" His eyes widened. "Yara, grab the other end!"

Yara stumbled over to help as Zane reached for Bella's arm, pulling her away from the hole.

"Why are you out here? I thought you were staying inside!"

"I needed a break," she called back. "Do you know anyone who can get me to the power plant?"

Zane hesitated then nodded. "Come on."

He guided her down the snow-covered path toward Party Culture.

Inside Party Culture, the still air hit her like a wave of relief.

Bella exhaled deeply, tension easing slightly as Nevaeh strode over.

"Bella needs a ride," Zane said, glancing between the two.

"Someone just pulled up a new car," Nevaeh said with a grin.

"I'm tied up here," Zane said. "But Nevaeh knows the way."

Bella pressed her lips together. Of all people, it had to be Nevaeh, the gossip girl of The Bubble.

"Fine," Bella said flatly.

"Nicole, watch the place," Nevaeh called out over her shoulder, pushing open the door and trudging toward a red Ford with glowing headlights. "Car starters are a godsend. So, why's the housewife chasing after her hero boyfriend in a snowstorm?"

Bella knew she couldn't keep much from Nevaeh—she seemed immune to secrets now, like she'd built up a tolerance for the headaches they once chased her.

"I don't want to sit around," Bella grumbled, sinking in her seat. "Do you know where the power plant is?"

"Or is this just about saving your boyfriend from Luke or Greyson's hands?" Nevaeh teased.

Bella's heart skipped a beat. If both Luke and Greyson were both at the power plant, a Jason was walking straight into danger.

"Who went with Jason?" Bella blurted.

"Esme, Jade, and Bryce," Nevaeh began, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. "Bryce Cross is from Uden Academy. He's really cute and laid-back. He's only got eyes for Emma, which is honestly disappointing. Your boyfriend's cute, but Greyson? Way cuter."

"Implying something?" Bella shot back, narrowing her eyes.

"I'm not going chasing after your boyfriend. I meant boys who are cute, period," Nevaeh clarified with a smirk.

"Because we all know how much you love gossip," Bella said dully, rolling her eyes.

Before all this chaos, Bella barely noticed Nevaeh. A cheerleader with a sharp-tongue, always up to date on the latest gossip—whether it was spilling it to her friends or dragging secrets into the open. Bella even remembered when Nevaeh casually revealed someone was pregnant with another guy's child.

"There's a lot of flowing gossip that isn't just about romance, but deaths too."

Bella stared down the empty road, blanketed with thick snow. Squinting through the swirling flakes, she caught sight of something strange hunched over in the middle of the road.

"What is that?" Bella asked, frowning.

The shape looked like a tree at first glance—too large and oddly bent to be just a tree in the middle of the road. She squinted, but the whipping snow blurred the windshield.

"If it's an animal, I'm eating it," Nevaeh joked.

"Just stop when you get there," Bella warned.

Nevaeh slammed on the brakes, tires crunching sharply in the snow. The figure on the road toppled over, and Nevaeh's eyes went wide. "I didn't hit it," she said quickly.

Bella tugged her scarf higher, stepping out cautiously through the deep snow along the roadside. As she neared, the shape resolved into a person—wrapped in a designer red coat, black snow pants, and a white hat pulled low over his face.

"Help me!" Bella's voice cracked with panic as she dropped on her knees beside him, heart pounding.

Nevaeh scrambled out, trudging through the deep drifts to join her. Together, they hoisted the limp figure—lighter than expected—and eased him into the backseat. He collapsed across the seats like a rag doll.

"Should we turn around?" Nevaeh asked, eyeing the unconscious boy.

Bella slipped off her gloves and pressed a cold hand to his forehead. No fever, but his breaths were shallow. If he had the virus, she didn't want to be the one nursing him.

"No," Bella said firmly.

Nevaeh smirked, raising an eyebrow. "If he has the virus, you take care of him."

The boy blinked slowly, one green eye peeking open as the cold air escaped from his lips. "I'm not dead, right?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind.

"Nope, you're alive," Nevaeh chuckled, adjusting the rearview mirror.

"Are you kidnapping me?" he asked, eyebrows knitted together.

Nevaeh grinned, shifting the car over a mound of snow. "Nope, we're going to take this girl to see her super boyfriend."

"Why were you out in the snow?" Bella asked.

"Searching for people," he said quietly.

She racked her brain, trying to place where he might have come from. Maybe some forgotten abandoned house, though all she could recall were the wrecked Paradise Hotel and the shattered hospital on the edge of town.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"River Dunlop," he coughed out, voice hoarse as he pulled back his hood, revealing platinum hair stuck to his forehead. "You've probably heard of my mother."

"Dunlop? As in Cecile Dunlop?" Bella gasped.

River gave a small nod.

Even in a collapsing town with skin-burning snow and a killer virus, that name still meant something.

"Your mom's revolutionized winter couture," she breathed. "I studied her designs."

A flutter sparked in her stomach. Cecile Dunlop—the Cecile—was practically royalty in the  fashion world. Bella's mind spun with possibilities: advice, connections, maybe even a chance to intern one day. For a moment, she forgot about the snowstorm entirely.

"And you say I'm the one obsessed with gossip?" Nevaeh snickered with a smirk.

"Where are we going?" River asked, glancing between them, still half-dazed.

Bella gripped the door handle as the car jolted over a snowdrift. "Nevaeh!" she shouted. "The power plant to hopefully get hydro."

"She just wants to play super girlfriend and stop her boyfriend from blowing something up," Nevaeh snickered.

River nodded slowly and turned toward the window, the glass fogged and frosted from the bitter air outside. "Where'd everyone go?" he asked.

"Some ugly girl named Ashley started it," Nevaeh replied.

Bella vividly recalled the incident involving Ashley and the mysterious purple substance that entered her body. Meanwhile, Jason was caught up in dealing with the chaos at Uden Academy along with several incidents.

"Now we've got snowstorm that burns skin and a virus that kills," Nevaeh said, sticking up a thumb. "Oh—and we're nearly out of food. And if you like drama? You'll fit right in. I thought you lived in Toronto."

"I just moved," River replied. "Was supposed to start at Uden Academy."

"Uden has evil people," Bella spat as she narrowed her eyebrows.

"With your cheekbones?" Nevaeh teased River, flashing a grin. "You'd fit right in."

River ran a gloved hand through his hair, brushing flecks of ice that clung to his strands. Ahead, the towering silhouette of the power plant loomed through the storm with two vehicles parked outside,.

"Cover everything," Bella warned, tightening her scarf. "One snowflake can burn right through your skin."

Bella pressed her scarf tight against her mouth and nose as she stumbled through the snow toward the power plant's door, half buried in snow. Wind shrieked behind her as River slipped in after and slammed the heavy door shut, sealing out the storm with a deep metallic thud.

"We should've brought a flashlight," Nevaeh muttered.

"I can produce light," River said, closing his eyes, and his entire body lit up like a light.

"Kinda reminds me of a walking highlighter," Nevaeh laughed.

River's entire body shimmered with a soft golden outline, casting eerie shadows against the concrete walls. The echo of the door's slam still ran in Bella's ears, and her pulse thudded with every crack and ding.

"Definitely left," Nevaeh said, peering into the dark corner of the power plant.

They clumsily navigated the wide, echoing hall, their footsteps crunching over scattered debris and ice crusted floor. Bella's eyes locked onto a flicker of movements—someone ahead, holding a flashlight thats swayed like a slow pendulum.

She instinctively threw out a hand, signalling the person go stop. A knot tightened in her chest. She couldn't shake the rising dread for Jason's safety.

"Greyson, this is getting annoying," she heard Jason snap.

"Missed me, Lukey." Esme's laughter echoed through the space.

Nevaeh strode confidently to the top of the creaky stairs, much to Bella's dismay. "Looks like a party down here," she called.

Faces slowly turned toward them from the shadowy depths below, their features blurred in the dim lighting. Despite the haze, Bella eyes locked onto the familiar silhouettes of Jason, Greyson, Luke, and Esme.

"Nevaeh?" Jason's voice called out, confusion evident in his tone. "What are you doing here?"

"The housewife wanted to check on her hero," Nevaeh teased. "Honestly, I thought the place would have blown up by now."

"Well, they do tend to be quite melodramatic," Scarlett said slyly.

Taking a tentative step into the murky darkness, Bella eyes adjusted slowly, picking out the faint outlines of rusted machinery and tangled pipes scattered throughout across the cavernous space. The air smelt faintly of oil and cold metal

"We hit Ashley, which turned dramatic," Bryce said with a sly grin.

"Jason, I'd recommend leaving before that little girlfriend gets hurt," Greyson sneered.

Bella's pulse quickened—she needed to get Jason out of here before Luke or Greyson injured him again.

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-Lexi