The sun filtered through the large windows of my mansion, casting warm, golden rays across the living room where Freya, Davina, and I lounged on the plush couch. 

The coffee table was piled high with a colorful assortment of fruits—mangoes, strawberries, and kiwis, each one a sweet reminder that life, at least at this moment, was just a little bit brighter.

"So, how's Blake?" I asked, plucking a strawberry and popping it into my mouth.

Freya's cheeks flushed a bright red as she fiddled with the edge of her sweater. "He's... well, he's still a co-worker, so you know, nothing dramatic there."

"Right, because nothing says romance like awkward glances over medical charts," I quipped, raising an eyebrow at her. "You should just tell him how you feel. What's the worst that could happen? A restraining order?"

"Ha ha, very amusing, Elora," Freya retorted, rolling her eyes yet unable to hide a smile. "As if your love life is any more impressive. Last I heard, you were locking lips with a guy who apparently stalks and shows up on your doorsteps unexpectedly"

"Daylen is a special case," I replied, tossing a piece of kiwi at her playfully. "Besides, at least I'm not dealing with a toxic relationship like Davina."

Davina groaned, burying her face in a pillow. "Can we not talk about that? I'm just trying to avoid dating altogether."

I sighed, leaning back against the couch. "You're better off without anyone who can't see your worth."

"True," Davina said, sitting up. "But you'd think my clients would be less of a distraction. You know, considering I'm trying to work."

I raised an eyebrow. "Wait, The one who's been crushing on you for years?"

Davina smirked, crossing her arms. "Honestly? I've been trying to figure out how to say 'thanks, but no thanks.' He keeps bringing me flowers and little trinkets like I'm some sort of prize."

I chuckled, leaning in. "Aren't you the one who said you enjoy a little attention? What's wrong with a guy showering you with gifts?"

"Nothing, except he thinks he can just waltz into my life because he's a client," Davina replied, rolling her eyes. "I'm here to do a job, not star in his love story."

Freya laughed. "Well, at least he's not bringing you creepy gifts or anything. That's a win!"

"True, but he also thinks he can win me over just because he's being nice," Davina said, shaking her head. "I'm here to get my life together, not to deal with romance right now."

I raised an eyebrow, nudging her playfully. "So, you're saying you don't want a charming guy showering you with attention? Sounds like a missed opportunity to me."

"Right, because that's exactly what I need," she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Another guy thinking he can sweep me off my feet while I'm trying to get my life together."

Freya nodded in agreement. "Good call. Let's keep it simple. No messy romances while we're still navigating this chaos."

I grinned, lifting my fruit in a mock toast. "To new beginnings and dodging drama! May we find better choices—and avoid anyone who thinks they can treat us like a backup plan!"

The three of us laughed, the tension melting away as we sank back into the comfort of each other's company, knowing that no matter the chaos outside, we would always have each other to lean on.

••☆••

Five hours had passed since our laughter filled the living room, but now the house was eerily quiet.

I had just stepped out of a steamy shower, the lingering warmth clinging to my skin as I wrapped myself in a thick robe.

After brushing my teeth, I glanced at myself in the mirror, water droplets still clinging to my tight curls, but my reflection felt distant—like I was watching someone else.

I headed downstairs, my bare feet making soft, almost silent thuds against the cold marble floors. The living room, once alive with chatter and laughter, now lay in darkness.

Freya and Davina had long gone to bed, lost in their dreams, while Kain prowled the yard outside, doing his usual rounds.

It was just me. Alone.

The stillness was familiar, almost comforting, as I sank into the soft couch.

The dim light from the moon filtered through the curtains, casting faint shadows across the room, wrapping everything in an almost haunting silence.

This was my usual routine—sitting here in the quiet, letting the dark swallow me whole, like some kind of ritual.

No phone. No distractions. Just the quiet hum of my thoughts as I sat there, my knees pulled up to my chest, staring at nothing in particular. Alone, like I always seemed to end up.

The silence was stifling now, far from the peaceful quiet I used to crave.

Boredom began to settle in, and with a heavy sigh, I reached for my laptop. Its familiar weight felt grounding in the midst of the endless unknowns I faced.

The screen flickered to life, casting a dim glow across the room as I leaned back on the couch, staring at the blank page before me.

It was always the same. The obsession, the never-ending ache for Elijah...it consumed me.

I couldn't let it go, even when every search felt like a wild goose chase. I opened my files, the ones filled with fragmented information I'd gathered over the years—pieces about Ghost, the syndicates, rumors of underground networks. It was all a mess, disjointed and frustratingly incomplete.

I didn't know much about the people who had taken Elijah that night. They were just a group of faceless men with a symbol on their shirts.

But I had to keep trying to connect the dots, no matter how thin the leads were. I combed through the scattered pieces again, trying to see if any of them hinted at the people behind Elijah's disappearance.

Still nothing.

"Fuck me" I muttered under my breath, slamming the laptop shut in frustration. It was as if I was running in circles, forever trying to grasp at something just out of reach.

But then, a memory flickered back—something I hadn't thought about in a while.

That night, when Elijah was taken... those six men had worn matching logos on their shirt pockets. I could see it so clearly in my mind—a snake, coiled, with a dagger between its fangs.

It didn't mean much to me back then, just another detail in a night filled with chaos. But now...

I quickly reopened my laptop, my fingers flying over the keys as I typed the details into TrackSearch. Snake, dagger, criminal organizations. I searched for anything that might bring up a connection.

At first, I found nothing. Just more empty leads and outdated information.

Then something appeared at the bottom of the search results. An image, grainy and worn, but there was no mistaking it—a logo.

My heart began to race as I clicked on it. This one was different from the one I remembered from that night, but something about it felt connected. It was a snake, eating its own tail—a symbol I hadn't seen before, but it was linked to the syndicates.

And just like that, everything clicked.

The men who took Elijah weren't only connected to them, but they are them.

My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at the screen, realizing that after all this time, I had finally found something.

Just as I leaned forward, trying to steady my breath, I heard footsteps, soft but unmistakable. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Fernando.

I could feel his presence behind me, quiet and steady, as he always was.

I didn't move as his footsteps grew closer, trying to focus on the twisted web of information about the syndicates on my screen.

But the soft thud of his shoes against the floor pulled me out of it. He stopped just behind the couch, and I felt his eyes on me before he moved around to sit beside me.

I hesitated, my fingers twitching. Slowly, I slid the laptop screen down, just enough to hide what I was working on, but not enough to power it off.

He didn't say anything at first, just leaned back into the cushions and spead his legs, making himself comfortable, a calm and familiar presence in the dim living room.

"You're still awake?" he asked casually, his gaze flicking to the faint glow of the half-closed laptop.

"Couldn't sleep," I muttered, sitting up a little straighter, trying to push aside the intensity of what I'd just uncovered. "What about you?"

He shrugged, eyes still on me. "Same. Too much on my mind."

We made small talk for a while—his day at the church, a new shipment for the winery. It was comfortable, the usual back-and-forth between us, though my mind was somewhere else, stuck on the pieces of information I was finally starting to connect.

But Fernando wasn't an idiot. He could sense when something was off. His eyes drifted back to my laptop, narrowing slightly before he looked at me again.

"So," he said with playful curiosity, "why are you hiding your screen like that?"

I blinked, my mind scrambling for an excuse. "I was watching...porn," I lied, barely able to keep a straight face. "You know, the usual midnight shenanigans."

He raised an eyebrow, giving me the skeptical look he always did when he knew I was full of it. "Porn? Really?"

"Yep, porn," I repeated, though I could already see the disbelief creeping across his face. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

"Right... because you're always up late, watching porn," he said, sarcasm thick in his voice.

I tried to laugh it off, but the atmosphere was shifting. His expression grew more serious as he leaned in slightly. "Elora, come on. I know what you're doing."

I stiffened and my mind started racing. I didn't want him to know because I knew where this conversation would lead us to.

I avoided his gaze, but his eyes stayed locked on me, sharp and knowing.

"You need to stop," he said, his voice softer now, but firm. "I see how much you're overworking yourself. You've been at this for too long, and it's eating you up."

"I'm fine," I snapped, the defensiveness creeping into my voice before I could stop it. "I don't need rest, Fernando. I need answers."

He shook his head, frustration flashing in his eyes. "You're burning yourself out, Elora. This–whatever you're doing, it's not healthy. You can't keep running yourself into the ground like this."

My chest tightened. "You don't get it," I said, my voice rising. "I have to keep going. I can't just sit around while my brother is still out there!"

His voice grew firmer, concern edging into anger. "And what if you destroy yourself in the process? What good are you to Elijah if you're barely holding it together?"

"I'm fine!" I insisted, my tone sharp, my frustration boiling over. "I'm not the one who needs saving."

"Really?" His voice rose to match mine, his gaze piercing. "Because it sure as hell looks like you're falling apart!"

The argument escalated quickly, our voices bouncing off the walls of the quiet living room, my stubbornness refusing to back down.

"You don't know what it's like!" I yelled, my emotions breaking through the surface. "You don't know what it's like to lose someone and feel like you're the only one who can do something about it!"

"And you think exhausting yourself will bring him back?" Fernando shot back, his voice filled with concern and anger. "You're going to lose yourself in this!"

"I won't stop!" I shouted, standing up from the couch, my chest heaving with the intensity of the moment. "I can't stop. Not until I find him."

We stared at each other, breathing heavily, the weight of our words still hanging in the air.

"I'm just a girl desperately searching for her brother, okay?!" I yelled, the raw truth tearing through me. "Do you get that? I don't have the luxury of taking a break!"

Fernando's jaw clenched, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and fear. "You can't find him if you're dead, Elora!" he shot back, his words like a punch to the gut.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I saw the impact hit her. The fire in her eyes flickered, just for a moment.

My heart pounded in my chest, not just from the intensity of the argument, but from the fear that I had finally said too much.

Elora stood up, her movements sharp and tense. "I know the risk, okay? But how am I supposed to rest knowing that my brother is out there, probably suffering through hell?" Her voice cracked, but she caught herself quickly, her defenses shooting right back up.

I got to my feet too, feeling my frustration build, but I kept my voice low.

I hated yelling at her, especially when I knew it wouldn't help. "I get it, I do, but this isn't helping either. You're driving yourself into the ground, Lora. I just... I don't want to see you destroy yourself."

She crossed her arms, glaring at me. "Fernando, you don't understand. You never will. I don't have a choice. The syndicates are real, and Ghost... he's the key to finding Elijah."

"Elora," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "you don't know this man."

Her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto mine with a cold, annoyed glare. "Neither do you. So what's your point?"

I gritted my teeth, trying to figure out how to make her see reason. But in my frustration, I slipped. "Because Ghost doesn't operate like that. He—" I stopped short, realizing what I had said, but it was too late.

Her face paled as she stared at me like I had just betrayed her. "What did you just say?" Her voice was quiet, dangerous. She took a step back, putting more distance between us. Her eyes, once fierce, were now filled with suspicion.

I felt my stomach drop. I hadn't meant it like that. "No, Lora, that's not what I meant." I stepped forward, trying to close the space between us, but she raised a hand, stopping me in my tracks.

She stepped back, her eyes flicking between me and the knife on the table. Her hand moved instinctively toward it.

"Do you work for him or something?" Her voice was laced with accusation, her gaze narrowing as she considered the possibility.

"Elora, no!" I moved quickly, grabbing the knife before she could, holding it out of her reach. "I don't work for him. I've never even met him. You're not understanding what I'm trying to say—"

"Then what the fuck are you saying, Fernando?" She shoved me, her strength catching me off guard.

"Why do you know so much? Why are you talking like you know him?" She shoved me again, harder this time, her hands trembling with anger and something else—betrayal.

I tried to grab her shoulders, to steady her, but she batted my hands away. "Don't fucking touch me!" she yelled, stepping back, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Lora, please," I said, my voice desperate, "I'm trying to help you. You're pushing yourself too far, and I'm scared for you. I don't know Ghost. I just... I've heard things, that's all."

But she wasn't listening. She shoved me again, hard enough that I had to step back to keep my balance. "Get out. Get the fuck out of my house," she spat, her voice trembling with rage.

"Elora, stop!" I grabbed her wrists, holding them tightly to keep her from pushing me again.

Her chest was heaving, her breathing ragged, but she wouldn't stop struggling.

"You're not thinking straight. You're angry, and you're upset. But I don't know him, I swear. I just want to protect you!"

"Protect me?" she hissed, jerking her hands free. "You're lying to me!"

I shook my head, my heart breaking as she continued to shove me toward the door, her trust in me shattering before my eyes. "Lora, please listen to me! I'm on your side!" I yelled, my voice rising in desperation.

But she was relentless. "Get out!" She shoved me one last time, and this time, I didn't resist. I stumbled back toward the door, my hands raised in surrender.

"Elora, please..." My voice cracked, but she didn't even look at me. She slammed the door shut behind me, locking it with a final, echoing click.

I stood there, staring at the closed door, my chest heaving with frustration, hurt, and helplessness. I had tried to protect her, to make her see reason, but I had only driven her farther away.

I turned around, rubbing my temples as I walked down the porch steps.

Reaching the last step, I sat down, my head dropping into my hands. I sat there, hoping—no, wishing—that she would open the door, come after me, say something... anything. But nothing. Only silence from the other side of the door.

After what felt like hours, I heard footsteps approaching, the familiar sound stopping just beside me.

"You okay, brother?" The voice was casual, smug even, but I knew him well enough to catch the hint of sympathy behind it. I looked up, meeting the all-too-familiar grin of the man standing next to me.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

He tilted his head, that same cocky look plastered on his face. "Didn't you get my text?"

I shook my head, running a hand through my hair. "No. I was too busy arguing with Elora."

He chuckled, low and amused. "About what this time?"

"The usual" I sighed, my shoulders slumping as I glanced back at the house. "Now she hates me"

He raised an eyebrow, but there was something softer in his gaze, "She doesn't hate you, Fernando. She's just... going through it. You know how she gets."

I sighed deeply, looking down at the ground. "I dont know, I messed up, man. I pushed too hard. I just... I don't want her to get hurt."

He sat beside me, his demeanor surprisingly calm. "You're trying to protect her, and she knows that deep down. You've got to give her some space"

I looked up at him, his words sinking in. He wasn't one for comfort, not typically, but he always had a way of knowing exactly what to say when it counted.

"Yeah, I guess," I muttered, my frustration ebbing away slightly.

We sat in silence for a moment before I gave him a sidelong glance. "Aren't you afraid she'll see you here?" I asked, a hint of amusement creeping into my voice.

He laughed, standing up and brushing off his pants.

"Of course I'm not afraid." He reached out, resting a hand on my shoulder before giving my chest a playful pat with the other hand, his grin turning sinister.

I shook my head, a dry chuckle escaping me despite everything. Only he would show up like this, with perfect timing and that damn confidence oozing out of him.

"They don't call me Ghost for no reason."

Gaslighting max.

Also, R.I.P Liam Payne💔😕 never in a million years I would've thought I'd had to be writing this, not this soon.