Yve and Ysa stood beside Darnell’s idling Mercedes, the crisp morning air carrying a sharp, clean chill off the hospital grounds.
Ysa slipped the intricate bracelet from her wrist and held it out.
Yve’s face brightened instantly as she accepted it, cradling Nierven carefully in her palms.
The slumbering serpent’s iridescent scales caught the pale sunlight as Yve stroked a finger gently over the top of its head.
A faint, luminous glow pulsed through his amber irises as he recognized her scent, and Yve smiled, sliding the bracelet back into place around her wrist so he could coil securely against her forearm.
“I’ll be off to attend the Haelar Convergence soon,” Ysa noted, adjusting her collar.
Yve looked up, her expression pausing.
“Oh…
you received an invitation?”
Ysa nodded in confirmation.
“How long will you be gone?”
“A couple of months at best.
You should head home in the meantime.”
Yve immediately shook her head, her jaw setting.
“If I go back there, I’ll just have to listen to Mother’s endless pestering about the marriage issue.
I don’t want to deal with that right now.”
Ysa gave her a tired, knowing look.
“Whatever you say.
She worries about you, Yve.”
“That is the whole problem.
She doesn’t trust me.
She doesn’t believe I can handle my own life.” Yve lowered her gaze to the pavement for a moment before meeting her sister’s eyes again.
“It was sweet when I was little, but come on…
I’m old now.”
“We all worry about you.”
“Don’t.” Yve’s voice softened, losing its defensive edge.
“I am not a child anymore, sis.”
Ysa nodded, accepting the statement without a fight.
She reached up, her fingers gently tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind Yve’s ear.
“Stubborn as always, my sister.”
Yve offered a small, crooked smile.
“Yeah, well…”
The glass entrance doors slid open behind them.
Yve’s eyes lit up before she even turned her head.
Ysa noticed the subtle shift in her posture instantly, glancing back to see Dylan approaching across the concrete.
When she looked back at her sister, a knowing, affectionate amusement played in Yve’s eyes.
Ysa kept her thoughts to herself.
“See you in a few months,” she said instead.
“Longest would probably be a year, I suppose.”
Yve nodded, her gaze drifting upward toward the pale sky.
“Ophiuchus is nearing its peak brilliance this time around, huh…”
Ysa nodded in agreement, and the sisters pulled each other into a tight embrace, Yve holding on for a beat longer than usual.
“I’m gonna miss you, sis.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
Yve chuckled softly against her shoulder.
A moment later, heavy footsteps announced Darnell’s arrival, with Victor trailing close behind.
Yve stepped back from Ysa, allowing her sister to open the door and climb into the back of the Mercedes.
Before Darnell stepped inside, Yve caught his eye.
“Mark?”
Darnell stopped, turning to give her a firm, unreadable look that carried the weight of absolute finality.
Yve understood immediately.
Her shoulders dropped, the lingering tension bleeding out of her frame, and she nodded.
“Thank you…”
Darnell gave a single, sharp nod of his own before reaching over to rest a heavy hand on her head, patting her gently before getting into the car.
Victor lingered for a moment, stepping forward to hand Yve a briefcase.
“Here is everything you will need to transition into your new position.”
Yve accepted it with both hands, looking down at the leather case before glancing back up.
“Thank you, Victor.”
He gave a polite dip of his head and slid into the passenger seat beside the driver.
Yve stood beside the curb as the luxury vehicle pulled away, watching until it vanished into the morning traffic.
Then she turned around to find Dylan waiting.
Dylan’s dark eyes widened, his gaze locking onto a fresh, wet stain spreading across the shoulder of Yve’s shirt.
The dried blood from the previous night was being actively replaced by warm new streaks, darkening the pale fabric near her collarbone.
“Yve.”
He caught her by the sleeve before she could take another step, his fingers lifting the material just enough to check the damage.
The gauze beneath was completely soaked through, crimson already leaking past the adhesive edges and tracking down her skin.
“Dammit.”
Without waiting for her to protest, Dylan gripped her arm and hauled her right back toward the hospital entrance.
An attending nurse was flagged down within seconds, and Yve was hurried off to a treatment room.
The makeshift field dressing had to be stripped away, the reopening wound thoroughly irrigated, and the torn stitches meticulously repaired before a proper, reinforced bandage could be secured.
It took longer than either of them wanted.
When Yve finally pushed the treatment room door open and stepped back into the hallway, she rolled her stiff shoulders and flexed her arms, testing the tight pull of the new stitches.
“Much better.”
Dylan stood a few paces away, his arms crossed over his chest, watching the movement.
Only when the color of the gauze remained clean did he finally let out the breath he had been holding.
Relief hit him first, sharp and hollow.
Then the heavy, familiar weight of guilt rushed in right behind it.
His gaze dragged over Yve’s battered appearance.
Her shirt was ruined by dried blood, the fresh white bandage peeked out starkly above her collar, and another piece of gauze still covered the cut across her cheekbone.
She looked thoroughly drained, the exhaustion of the past twenty-four hours carved into every line of her face.
And somehow, she was still offering him a small, reassuring smile.
“Let’s go back in and check on Lara…”
Dylan stared at her for a long, heavy heartbeat.
Then his jaw tightened, and he broke eye contact, looking down the corridor.
“You go first.”
Yve’s smile faltered, her brows drawing together.
“Where are you going?”
“Got somewhere to be.”
Before she could press the question, Dylan turned on his heel and walked away, his long strides carrying him purposefully toward the exit.
Yve stood alone in the hallway, watching his broad back disappear around the corner until his heavy footsteps faded entirely, leaving her with a quiet, uneasy knot in her chest.
~~~
Dylan steered the motorcycle through the midday traffic.
His earpiece crackled.
“You got somethin’?”
“Nah.
Nothing useful yet.”
Dylan frowned, his grip tightening slightly on the rubber grips.
“Checked every camera in the building.
No footage of Mark leaving.”
“None?”
“Not a damn thing,” the voice confirmed.
“I did find the camera out front, though.
Got Mark walking in.
Then Yve.
Then Yve again, carrying some unconscious woman.”
There was a brief, crackling pause on the line.
“Girl’s got some serious strength on her, huh?”
Dylan let out a short, humorless snort over the wind noise.
“Apparently.”
“Anyway, there’s a big chunk missing from the footage.
Somebody wiped it.”
“Can you get it back?”
“I’m workin’ on it.”
Dylan heard the familiar clacking of a keyboard through the earpiece.
Minutes later, Dylan pulled the motorcycle into the apartment complex parking lot, cutting the throttle as his tires crunched over the gravel.
The earpiece crackled back to life.
“Footage’s unrecoverable.”
Dylan killed the engine and sat there for a moment.
“Alright.
I’ll call ya back.
Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
The line went dead.
Dylan pulled the small earpiece out, slipped it into his pocket, and strode toward the building entrance.
The moment he pushed open his front door, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Professional cleaning crews were already swarming the unit.
Several masked workers moved methodically through the living space, scrubbing surfaces, bagging debris, and working with grim efficiency around the grim reminders of the violence that had taken place here the day before.
Dylan’s expression hardened instantly, his protective instincts flaring.
He crossed the room in two strides and caught the nearest worker firmly by the forearm.
“Who the hell are you?”
The worker flinched, turning with a startled gasp.
“DUV Facilities Services, sir.”
Dylan’s eyes dropped from the frightened man’s face to the clean, corporate insignia printed across the chest of his uniform.
DUV Facilities Services.
Recognition immediately replaced the hostility in his posture.
He released the worker’s arm with a short nod.
“Right.”
He slipped into the bedroom the two women shared and began pulling open drawers.
Clothes, toiletries, undergarments, and whatever else looked usable got tossed into a large canvas duffle bag. The source of this chapter is g.com.
He did not bother folding or organizing anything, simply gathering their lives into a bundle and hauling it over his shoulder.
As he stepped back out into the hall, he froze outside his own bedroom door.
The frame was destroyed.
Dylan stared at the splintered wood, the deep gouges in the drywall, the scratches on the floor, and the violent fractures radiating outward from the latch.
Dylan stepped closer, running a calloused thumb over the ruined grain.
The longer he examined the damage, the easier it became to reconstruct what had happened.
Someone had been thrown into the door.
Hard.
His jaw tightened while his mind immediately went to Yve and Lara.
Dylan’s hand curled into a tight fist.
He hadn’t been there.
That was the part he couldn’t get past.
He should have been there.
Maybe if he had been, none of this would’ve happened.
His eyes moved over the damaged frame again, lingering on every splinter, every gouge in the wall, every mark across the floor.
“Mark…”
The name left his mouth through clenched teeth.
~~~
The transition out of his old life proved surprisingly brief.
Dylan submitted his formal resignation to his current employer, fully expecting a round of friction or bureaucratic resistance.
He got it.
The Chief sat behind a cluttered oak desk, sliding the resignation letter back across the surface before fixing Dylan with a sharp gaze.
“You sure about this, Pierce?”
“Yeah.”
The Chief leaned back, executive leather creaking under the shift in weight.
“I can offer you a pay bump.
Better hours.”
Dylan shook his head once.
“No.”
The Chief studied him for a long beat, searching for a sign of leverage.
“Then why are you walking away?”
Dylan slipped his hands into his pockets, his posture remaining entirely neutral.
“Personal reasons.”
The Chief raised an eyebrow, recognizing the closed-door tone.
He chose not to press.
“Who’s the new outfit?”
“DUV Corp.”
That earned a slow, knowing nod.
“I see.”
The older man stood, rounding the desk to extend a hand.
“Good luck out there, Pierce.”
Dylan took the grip, firm and brief.
“Thanks.”
And that was the end of it.
Over the next few days, Dylan cleared his remaining desk obligations, closed out his files, and finalized the administrative transition.
Before Lara was even discharged from medical care, he had already signed Darnell’s binding contract and stepped officially onto the corporate payroll of DUV Corp.
Two weeks following the brutal home invasion, Lara was finally clear to leave the hospital.
Yve stood vigil beside the hospital bed while the final discharge papers were processed.
The moment the attending nurse gave them the green light, Lara gathered the few personal items she had brought along and stood beside Yve near the exit.
The walk out to the waiting car remained uneventful, but for Lara, every step away from the sterile wards carried the heavy phantom weight of everything that had nearly ended there.
When they unlocked and pushed open the door to the apartment, Lara froze on the threshold.
Her eyes swept across the familiar living space.
Thanks to the professional remediation team, the physical evidence of the attack was entirely gone.
Yet nothing felt the same.
Yve noticed the sudden rigidity in her posture and stepped close, reaching out to take her hand.
Lara immediately seized both of Yve’s hands, her fingers trembling against cold skin.
The fractured memories rushed back in jagged pieces.
Mark.
His hands.
The absolute terror of helplessness.
Lara lowered her head, squeezing her eyes shut as she fought to steady her breathing.
Yve closed the remaining distance, wrapping her arms securely around Lara’s shoulders.
“It’s okay.
You’re safe now.”
Lara held onto her with a desperate grip, burying her face against Yve’s shoulder.
“I thought I was going to die.”
Yve’s expression softened into a mask of quiet grief and fierce protection.
For a long stretch, neither of them spoke, letting the silent embrace do the heavy lifting.
Dylan stood a short distance away near the hallway, watching them with a guarded expression.
He had spent the past fortnight buried under a mountain of new employment protocols, security audits, and the relentless operational demands Darnell had dropped into his lap.
But watching Lara back on her feet in their own home made the heavy workload fall into perspective.
He bent down to pick up one of the heavy canvas duffel bags resting beside the entryway.
“C’mon,” He said, his voice low and steady.
“Let’s get you settled.”
Lara offered a small, jerky nod.
Yve stayed locked to her side, keeping her hand firmly in grasp as they moved further into the apartment.
~~~
Back in the bedroom, Lara pulled Yve into a fierce, grounding embrace.
“Thank you…”
Yve returned the hug with equal intensity before pulling back with a small, knowing nod.
“I’ll be starting work tomorrow.”
Lara laughed softly, stepping away to grab a clean shirt from the dresser.
“You could have started a week ago.
I didn’t need you playing nursemaid twenty-four seven.”
Yve offered a bright, unapologetic smile.
“You act like you didn’t enjoy every second of it.”
“Yeah, I did,” Lara admitted, shaking her head with a grin.
“I loved getting pampered.”
Meanwhile, across the hall in the master bedroom, Dylan had stripped out of his heavy duty clothes and was just getting ready to settle in when his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
He snatched it up, eyeing the incoming ID before swiping to answer.
“What?”
“Yow…”
Dylan closed his eyes for a second, immediately recognizing the lazy drawl.
“I’m gonna crash at your place today.”
“No.”
“Quit being so stubborn, man.
I just got back from a five-week research deployment in Europe.”
Dylan pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a sharp breath.
“Find somewhere else.”
“Besides…” Clyne let out an exaggerated yawn through the speaker.
“I’m already standing in your apartment.”
Dylan froze, the phone still pressed to his ear.
A second later, the distinct, heavy click of the front door latching shut echoed through the hallway.
“You gotta be kiddin’ me.” He dropped the phone, and hauled his bedroom door open with enough force to rattle the drywall.
Clyne was already halfway across the living space, dragging a battered, sticker-covered suitcase behind him.
He looked predictably ragged from long-haul travel, dark circles bruising beneath his eyes, but fatigue clearly wasn’t going to stop him from making himself at home.
He veered straight for the kitchen, yanked the refrigerator door open, and plucked a cold bottle of water off the shelf.
Dylan stood in the doorway, his glare sharp enough to cut glass.
“Get out.”
Clyne lowered the bottle, a familiar, annoying grin spreading across his face.
“Nice to see you too, little brother.”
Dylan didn’t waste time on pleasantries.
He grabbed the handle of the suitcase and hauled it backward.
“C’mon.
Move.”
Clyne planted his heels, resisting the pull.
“Would it kill you to give your big brother a hug?”
He dropped the water bottle, opened his arms wide, and stepped forward with theatrical affection.
Dylan didn’t hesitate, shoving a flat palm directly against his brother’s chest and sending him stumbling sideways.
“Yep.”
Clyne caught his balance against the counter, grunting in protest.
“You know, most people are genuinely happy to see family after a month overseas.”
“Good for most people.”
Before Clyne could fire back a retort, the second bedroom door clicked open.
Yve stepped out into the hallway, wearing a loose cotton robe.
She froze mid-step upon seeing a strange man standing by the entryway with a suitcase.
Dylan stopped dead, one hand still locked onto the luggage handle.
Clyne froze as well, his eyes darting from Dylan to the woman standing in the living room.
Then his gaze sharpened with overwhelming interest.
“Uh…” A slow, knowing smirk spread across his face.
“Well.
This explains why you don’t want me here.”
Dylan’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
“Don’t.”
Clyne brushed past Dylan with an easy shove, stepping straight into Yve’s path and extending a hand with a confident grin.
“Clyne Pierce.
Dylan’s older brother.”
Yve stared at the outstretched hand for a brief moment before taking it with polite composure.
Clyne froze, the easy smile faltering as the words registered.
He blinked, looking from Yve to Dylan and back again.
“Virellis line?”
“Yes,” Yve replied smoothly.
Clyne’s eyes widened with sudden, burning curiosity, his analytical mind clearly spinning up a dozen questions.
Before he could voice a single one, Dylan grabbed him firmly by both shoulders and began marching him toward the exit.
“Alright.
Nice meetin’ ya.
Now get out.”
Clyne planted his heels against the hardwood, refusing to budge an inch.
“Hold on a second.”
“Out.”
The struggle came to an abrupt halt when the second bedroom door clicked open behind them.
Lara stepped out, pausing on the threshold as she took in the scene of the strange man grappling with Dylan while Yve stood watching with mild amusement.
Lara looked at Clyne.
Then at Dylan.
Then at Yve.
Clyne’s grin stretched from ear to ear.
Dylan’s expression tightened into a hard, defensive mask.
A complicated mix of irritation, embarrassment, and sheer dread coiled tightly in his chest, and he hated every second of it.
Clyne swept his gaze across the small group, letting out a sharp, delighted bark of laughter.
“Oh, this is gold.”
Dylan narrowed his eyes.
“Don’t.”
Clyne ignored the warning entirely, his hand slipping smoothly into his pocket.
He dragged out his smartphone with deliberate slowness.
“I’m telling Mom.”
Dylan lunged forward.
“No.”
Clyne was already moving, sidestepping the tackle with practiced ease and darting around the coffee table as his thumb hammered against the screen.
“Stop that, you prick!”
“Can’t hear ya over the ringing!” Clyne laughed, ducking behind the kitchen island and holding the glowing screen up in the air.
Dylan scrambled over the back of the couch in hot pursuit.
Clyne danced out of reach, holding the phone high.
~~~
By the time dinner came around, the four of them were gathered in the living room, with Clyne sitting on the floor across from Yve and Lara while Dylan brought the food over to the coffee table, serving everything Lara had prepared.
Clyne watched him for a moment before turning his attention back to the two women.
“So…
how long have you two been livin’ here with him?”
Yve stared down at her fingers, counting through them as she tried to calculate the timeline.
“Has it been two months?”
Lara thought about it for a second.
“Think so.”
Clyne nodded, glancing toward Dylan, who was still busy with the plates.
“And he just let you two move in?”
When Yve nodded with a small smile, Clyne’s eyebrows lifted.
“He charge you rent?”
Yve and Lara exchanged a quick look before both shaking their heads.
Clyne stared at them, his jaw dropping slightly.
“Wow.”
Dylan continued arranging the dishes without looking up.
“I’m his brother,” Clyne said, pointing at himself.
“And he made me pay half the rent.”
Yve looked over at Dylan, who ignored her entirely.
Clyne shook his head in disbelief.
“He’s a huge pain in the ass.”
Yve smiled softly.
“No, he’s not.”
Dylan’s hand stopped halfway through stirring the food while Yve just continued with complete sincerity.
“If anything, he’s been very accommodating.
He even bought me clothes…”
She paused.
“And underwear.”
Clyne’s eyes widened as he turned back toward Dylan.
“He did that?”
Yve nodded.
“Yeah,” Lara added.
Clyne’s grin widened before he slapped both hands against the coffee table, making Yve and Lara jump.
“Are you two in a witness protection program?”
Yve stared at him, her expression making it entirely clear she had no idea what he was talking about, while Lara shook her head.
“No.”
Clyne settled back down, though the questions multiplying in his head only seemed to demand more room.
He studied Yve again, really looking at her this time, while she met his scrutiny with a deadpan smile.
“You look awfully familiar.”
Yve raised an eyebrow.
“Do I?”
“Yeah.” Clyne continued staring, trying to dredge up the memory.
Yve searched her own mind as well, though two hundred and forty years was a long stretch to keep track of every face.
She had crossed paths with countless people and lived through eras most humans only read about, yet Clyne’s features meant nothing to her.
“I don’t think we’ve met before.”
Clyne frowned.
“Maybe not.” He kept studying her anyway.
“I really think I’ve seen you somewhere before.
I just can’t remember where.”
Dylan finally sat down beside them and began serving himself.
Without thinking, he scooped a portion of food onto Yve’s plate and slid it across the table toward her.
Clyne froze.
His eyes darted to the plate, then to Dylan, and back to Yve.
Dylan noticed the heavy stare and stopped mid-motion, looking down at what he had just done before glancing back at his brother.
Clyne’s jaw dropped.
Dylan slowly lowered his hand, his expression defensive.
“What?”
Clyne stared at him for a long beat before reaching out without warning to pinch Dylan’s cheeks between his fingers, giving them a sharp little wiggle.
Dylan immediately slapped his hands away.
“Ouch.”
Clyne stared at him in sheer disbelief.
“Are you a clone?”
Dylan frowned.
“The hell are you talkin’ about?”
Clyne leaned closer, studying his face as if inspecting a strange specimen.
“You’re not my brother, are you?”
Dylan stared right back at him.
“What?”
Clyne didn’t answer immediately.
He simply kept staring.
For once, there was no teasing grin on his face.
As the four continued eating, the conversation gradually settled into a more relaxed rhythm.
Yve chatted easily with Lara while Clyne listened, occasionally glancing between the two women.
Dylan kept eating, focused entirely on his own plate and making a deliberate effort to ignore the casual, increasingly intense look his brother kept throwing his way.
Yve reached for her glass and took a drink, leaving barely half an inch of water at the bottom before setting it back down to continue talking to Lara.
Without looking up, Dylan reached for the pitcher, topped off her glass, and set it right back in front of her.
Yve glanced down, then looked over at Dylan.
“Thanks.”
Dylan gave a small nod and continued eating, and Yve turned right back to Lara, resuming their conversation.
Clyne stared.
His eyes moved from Yve’s full glass to Dylan, then back to Yve.
Watching with curiosity.
With deep, focused curiosity.
~~~
The next morning found Yve preparing for her first day at work.
Lara was also busy launching her own job hunt after being removed from her previous part-time position, spending the morning sifting through applications and scheduling interviews with quiet determination.
Before Lara left, Dylan checked in with his usual understated practicality, reminding her to take her medication.
“Don’t forget your medicine.”
“I won’t,” Lara promised, nodding.
Dylan glanced down at his phone to verify her location was still active on the tracking app.
“If anything happens, call me.”
“I will.” Lara said, heading out the door just as Yve finished getting ready.
Clyne, meanwhile, remained fast asleep.
The sheer exhaustion of the previous day had anchored him to the mattress, and he had barely stirred after collapsing into bed.
Dylan had ended up sharing the space with him, though neither had managed much conversation before Clyne passed out cold.
Dylan cast a glance toward the closed bedroom door and shook his head.
“Unbelievable.”
He turned back to Yve.
“Ready?”
When Yve nodded, Dylan pulled the apartment door open and ushered her into the hallway, locking up behind them.
A few minutes later, they were in the car and heading toward her new workplace.