LOGINANDREA AGE 15
The plane touches down smoothly, the descent gentler than I expected. The flight itself was mostly uneventful.. everyone else slept through nearly all of it. Not me. It was my first time on a plane, and I was terrified the entire way. When the captain gives the all-clear, I let out a long breath. Oh, and did I mention it's a private jet? Because it is. Cade is the first on his feet, directing Logan and the twins to grab the bags. Dorathy gestures for me and Drew to go check that the car is waiting outside. Once everything is loaded, we head toward the lake house. I've heard about it plenty of times but never actually been. Drew promised it would be worth the trip, and I'm just glad I finally learned how to swim. The drive there is stunning, tall trees reaching into the sky, patches of wildflowers, creeks catching the sunlight like glass. We pull up to a gate that looks almost identical to the one at home. Cade punches in a code and it swings open. I catch glimpses of the house through the trees and immediately lean over Reid and Drew to get a better look. "We're practically there. You're going to snap your neck," Drew says, tugging my arm until I sit back. I huff and shoot him a grin, then glance behind us to make sure Logan's car is still following. Logan and the twins took a separate car, we couldn't all fit in one. Honestly, I was a little surprised they came at all. Since Killian and Austin graduated, they've been living with Logan. Reid moved in with them after his graduation last year. It was hard watching them go, and they don't visit nearly as often as I'd like. When the house finally comes into full view, I go still. It's more than I imagined. Less lake house, more lake mansion. The exterior has the look of an oversized cabin, rich dark wood, enormous windows that mirror the surrounding forest. The moment the car stops, I shove past Reid and take off running. "Be careful! Don't go too far!" Dorathy calls after me. "Try not to get lost, I'd hate to have to rescue you," Drew shouts, laughing. I round the back of the house and stop dead. The water stretches out endlessly, hemmed in by trees so thick it feels like a world of its own. A pier extends into the lake, and every part of me wants to jump in immediately. I tilt my face up toward the sky and let the sun warm my skin. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel completely free. "Beautiful, isn't it?" I startle and turn. Logan is standing a few feet away. I smile softly and look back at the water. "I'm surprised you think so," I say, not meaning it rudely, just honestly. "Why's that?" He steps closer, close enough that our shoulders are nearly touching. He seems taller than I remember. I haven't seen him in months, and now my head barely reaches his bicep. "You usually notice what's wrong with things before what's right," I say. I glance at him and notice his jaw looks sharper, light stubble where he usually keeps clean-shaven. When his head starts to turn toward me, I look away quickly, hoping he didn't catch me staring. "Not with everything," he says. His voice is quieter than usual, and when I look back, his eyes are already on me. This is not the Logan I know. "Okay," I say slowly, narrowing my eyes. "You're being strange. You haven't said anything mean to me once today. Who are you?" The corner of his mouth moves, barely, but it's there. In my peripheral vision I catch Austin and Killian leaning against the deck railing, watching us, talking low. "Come on," Logan says, brushing past me. "Dinner's ready." I follow, glancing back one last time at the lake. It's still hard to believe this is my life. I'm grateful for it every single day. Inside, the back patio opens into a space that is, predictably, almost entirely white. Dorathy's doing. Walls, furniture, decorative touches, all of it crisp and clean with black accents throughout. Sleek and beautiful and a little intimidating, like most things she touches. The smell of pizza pulls me to the dining room, where everyone has already gathered around a table covered in open boxes. I grab a slice, take a bite, and drop into the seat beside Reid. "Are there any board games here? Like Monopoly?" He nods, setting his drink down. "Want to play after we eat?" "Yes, I wanted to swim, but it's too late now." I frown briefly, then brighten. "We can swim tomorrow." Cade overhears and grins. "We can take the boat out too. I think you'll like it." Dorathy's smile matches his, warm and infectious. I can't help smiling back. Her happiness always feels real, never performed. I think about where I'd be if they hadn't chosen to adopt me. The thought used to frighten me. Now it just makes me grateful. Even though I was adopted like the boys, I've never really thought of them as brothers. People at school ask about them constantly, especially Drew since he's a senior. But whenever someone calls them my brothers, I wrinkle my nose and set them straight. They're something closer to protective friends. Our dynamic was never traditional, and I've never needed it to be. Dorathy reaches into her purse and pulls out a small box tied with a baby blue ribbon, my favorite color since I outgrew pink a few years ago. She comes to stand in front of me, smiling like she's been holding this in all day. "We planned to wait until your birthday tomorrow," she says, holding it out, "but I couldn't. This felt like the right moment." I glance around nervously. Being watched while opening a gift still makes me uncomfortable. I murmur a thank-you and pull the ribbon loose. Inside is a delicate pearl choker, the pearls soft and luminous under the dining room light. My eyes sting. "Now we can both have pearls," Dorathy whispers, crouching to hold my face in her hands. Her own eyes are shining. I set the box down and pull her into a hug. "Thank you so much, Mom," I say, without thinking. The word comes out easily. Naturally. Like it was always supposed to be there. Dorathy draws a sharp breath and holds me tighter. "Always, little love," she whispers. When we finally pull apart, we're both laughing and wiping our faces. "Will you put it on?" I ask. Cade steps forward with a quiet smile. "I've got it." He takes the necklace and clasps it gently around my neck. The cool weight of it settles against my skin like something grounding. "Thank you, Dad." I turn and hug him too, voice wavering just slightly. "Of course, darling. We love you so much." He presses a kiss to the top of my head. "Alright, enough feelings, it's time to celebrate!" Drew announces, shattering the moment with perfect comedic timing. He always does that. I'm always grateful for it. "No parties," Dorathy says, laughing as she and Cade stand. "Your father and I are going to bed. You're welcome to stay up, just keep it down... I want to be awake for the sunrise. Love you all. Goodnight." Goodnights echo from every direction as they leave. I run my fingers over the pearls and feel something settle warmly in my chest. Cherished. That's the word for it. The moment they're gone, Drew produces a bottle of alcohol from seemingly nowhere. I stare at him. "Really." "Quiet parties are completely valid," he says, grinning without shame. He's not even of age, only Logan and the twins are. "Can I try some?" I ask. I already know the answer. "Absolutely not," Logan says immediately. "Not a chance," from Killian. "Bold of you to even ask," Reid adds. I look at Austin. He watches me with the faintest smirk and shakes his head once. "Drew?" I try. "Honestly? I don't see why not, I was drinking way earlier than—" He stops when five sets of eyes land on him. "But they'd end me. Sorry, Drea." I groan. "I'm turning fifteen in like two hours." Their answers don't change. Worth a shot. We play games for a couple of hours, waiting for midnight. I just wanted to hear happy birthday before I fell asleep. I didn't make it. ... I wake to the sound of a coffee machine and pans clattering in the kitchen. Half-asleep, I roll over, forgetting I fell asleep on the couch.. and land solidly on the floor. "Ow." I fold the blanket that came down with me, set it on the sectional, and shuffle toward the noise. The smell of coffee hits me in the hallway. "Happy birthday!" I stop walking. Dorathy has a camera raised, Cade stands behind her smiling, and the boys are all grinning at me like they've been waiting. "Thank you, guys," I say, grinning back. My chest feels full. This is already the best birthday I've had. "For the birthday girl," Drew announces, setting a white cupcake with baby blue frosting and a single lit candle on the counter in front of me. Dorathy gestures for me to sit. "Make a wish," Killian says, dropping into the seat beside me. I close my eyes. The warmth of the candle flickers against my face. Keep us all together. Keep us safe. I blow it out. The camera clicks. "What'd you wish for?" Drew leans in immediately, grinning. I laugh and push him back. "Not telling." I stand and carefully tuck the cupcake into the fridge for later. "Let me guess," he says, following me. "You wished that the boy you like at school would finally talk to you." I go still. Then I turn around slowly, arms crossed. "Ew. No," I say flatly. "And it's not like boys even approach me at school anyway. They're all too scared of you lot." "Which means the system is working," Drew says, clearly pleased with himself. Killian and Reid reach over to high-five him. "What do you mean working?" I look between them. "Have you been scaring people away on purpose?" "It's in everyone's best interest," Reid says casually, leaning against the wall beside Logan and Austin. "If someone breaks your heart, we have someone to deal with. It keeps things simple." Logan shoves him lightly. Reid raises his hands in surrender, muttering something low. I narrow my eyes. "What if I'm the one who does the heartbreaking? Why do guys always get cast as the threat?" "Nice try," Reid says with a smirk, then heads outside with Logan and the twins. I turn to Dorathy and Cade with a look of appeal. "They can't keep doing this." "I'm sorry, sweetheart," Cade says with a small shrug. "I actually agree with them." He grins and follows the boys out. Dorathy rolls her eyes softly and squeezes my shoulder. "Ignore them. Now go put a swimsuit on, it's boat time." Her enthusiasm is impossible to resist. I head upstairs and change into my baby blue swimsuit, then catch my reflection in the mirror. Dark brown curls everywhere. I consider pulling my hair up, decide against it. My gaze settles on the scar at my neck. I touch it lightly. It used to be the first thing I saw. Now it's just part of the picture — part of me, proof of how far I've come. I head down to the pier where everyone is waiting, and stop walking when I see what's docked there. "They said a boat," I say. "This is a floating mansion." I step aboard, taking in the polished surfaces and clean lines. My eyes drift to Dorathy and Cade up at the controls, and I find myself wondering, not for the first time, what it is they actually do. The security, the travel, the quiet way certain things never quite get explained. I've never asked directly. Maybe today I will. "We're steering up here!" Dorathy calls, waving me toward the back. "Go enjoy yourself!" I make my way to the deck where the boys are sprawled out like they own the ocean. I find an empty chair beside Austin and drop into it, stretching my legs out. "What do Mom and Dad actually do? For work?" The question lands and something shifts, they all exchange a look. The kind that has its own whole conversation inside it. "Is it something bad?" I press. "You'd tell me if it was, right? You trust me." "Of course we trust you, Drea," Killian says quickly. "It's just sensitive." Logan exhales and pinches the bridge of his nose. "They work for the government," he says finally. I relax slightly. "Okay. But doing what exactly?" More silence. More looks. "It's classified," Logan says. "We've all signed NDAs. That's as much as you're getting." "We've all signed?" I sit up straighter. "You work for them too?" His dark eyes hold mine, steady. "Me, Reid, Killian, Austin. Drew will when he turns eighteen." "What about me?" "What about you?" "Will I ever work for them?" "No." His tone closes the door on it completely. "And you won't. No more questions, Andrea." I lean back and let it go, for now. My gaze moves to Austin beside me. His shirt is off, and the tattoos covering his torso are impossible not to notice up close. Intricate patterns, sharp geometry, delicate linework running from his neck all the way down, stark against his skin. "Did those hurt?" I ask. He nods. "Do you have a tattoo artist you like? I've been thinking about getting one when I'm old enough, and I'd want someone good." He nods again. "Well, who is it?" I laugh at his usual economy of words. He's genuinely terrible at conversation. I love that about him. A faint smile. "Me," he says, and settles back into his chair, sliding expensive-looking sunglasses back on. My jaw drops. "You do your own? That's insane." Killian laughs from across the deck. "He did mine and Reid's too. Logan doesn't want any, and Drew's too young." I glance at Logan. "Why don't you like tattoos?" "I just don't," he says, shrugging once in a way that means the topic is closed. I file it away and lean back in my chair, closing my eyes. The sun is warm and the water moves gently against the hull and everything, right now, is exactly right. I sigh slowly, wishing I could stretch this moment out forever.ANDREAIt's been five days.Five days since the ambush. Since we were ripped from the others. Since Logan bled in my arms, since Austin surrendered to save my life, since the van doors slammed shut and the world went dark.We haven't seen a single face since.No guards. No voices. No footsteps. Just the occasional sound of a tray sliding through the wall panel near the door, like some invisible hand wants us fed but forgotten. We haven't eaten much. Not because we're being starved, but because the silence eats more than the food ever could.The room we're in is nicer than it should be. It's maddening. No windows. No clocks. No way to tell how long we've been here besides the aching stretch of minutes that bleed into hours. Every second feels like it's crawling under my skin, building something inside me I can't contain.I hate it.I hate the way it smells too clean. I hate the perfect white walls. I hate the silence most of all.It reminds me of the basement.It reminds me of being tw
DREWThe door closes behind us, and the silence screams.We're back at the safe house, but it doesn't feel safe anymore.Nobody speaks. Nobody moves. For a second, it's like we're stuck between two moments, what just happened, and what comes next. My brain can't catch up. My hands are shaking, but the rest of me feels numb, like I'm floating inside my own body, watching this moment happen from behind glass.Reid moves. He doesn't say a word, just stalks to the nearest wall and slams his fist into it, full force. A sickening crunch echoes through the room. Plaster cracks and crumbles, raining to the floor in chunks that scatter like bone. Blood spills down his knuckles, bright and unforgiving, but he doesn't flinch. Doesn't even look at the damage he's done. His jaw is tight. His breathing is harsh and sharp, like he's swallowing a scream.I flinch anyway. Just enough for it to feel like weakness.Killian sets his gun down on the counter. The sound is softer than it should be, but it b
ANDREAThe van smells like metal and sweat and blood. Logan's blood.I don't even know anymore. It's all mixed together, on the floor, in the air, in the panic clogging my lungs.We're not bound, but we might as well be. Logan is slumped across from me, his head tipped forward, hair matted to his forehead. His shirt is soaked in dark patches, the fabric clinging to skin I can't see, and I don't know how much of it is blood, only that there's too much.He hasn't moved since they threw him in here. He hasn't said a word. I shift, barely, reaching across the van floor, fingers trembling as they stretch toward him.The crack of metal slamming into the wall stops me cold.I flinch back as the guard snarls, jamming the barrel of his rifle against the side of the van so hard the whole vehicle shudders. "Don't move."My hand falls uselessly to my lap. My chest heaves with breath I can't afford to take. I don't even look at the guard. I can't. My eyes are locked on Logan, terrified that if I b
Andrea's POVWe reach a stairwell, narrow, cold, the walls stained with things no amount of paint could cover. My skin prickles as if the air remembers screams, like it's soaked in the ghosts of everything done here.Logan stops, turning back to us. "We split. Half up. Half down.""I'm going down with you," I say before he can even glance my way.His eyes flick to mine, assessing, but he doesn't argue and gives a short nod. "Drew. You're with us."Austin gathers the others with a tilt of his head. His eyes meet mine for a breath before he vanishes up the stairwell.As we descend, every footstep echoes. The air grows colder with each level, heavier with memory. I can feel it in my lungs, thick and sour. The kind of weight that knows suffering. You can feel that evil was made here.At the bottom, we find a hallway. Low ceilings. Peeling walls. The scent of bleach fighting mold. The air tastes sterile, but nothing about this place feels clean.Logan slows beside me, and I feel it before
ANDREA Elisha has been gone for hours.Logan sent him to scout the facility just after four, one of Blackwell's old training compounds, tucked so deep into the middle of nowhere it doesn't show up on any modern map. Not even the digital ones. Just a stretch of blank terrain that might as well have been swallowed whole by time.Now we wait.I sit on the edge of the couch, elbows braced against my knees, fingers tangled tightly beneath my chin. My heart ticks too fast, unease crawling beneath my skin. Every now and then, I glance toward the map spread out across the dining table, creases worn, ink faded, corners curling with age. It looks fragile, but it holds the weight of our entire future.Logan and Austin are hunched over it, silhouettes carved in tension and stillness. From here, they almost look like statues, worn down but unbreakable. Both are focused, eyes narrowed. The kind of focus that comes from remembering too much.Austin taps twice on the paper, knuckle grazing the outli
AndreaLogan is asleep.His breathing is slow and steady, like the storm inside him has finally gone still. His lips are parted just slightly, lashes dark against his cheeks, his expression completely unguarded. I've never seen him like this.No tension in his jaw. No fire behind his eyes. Just calm. And somehow, it's more intimate than anything we did last night.I let my eyes linger on him, tracing the shape of his shoulders, the strength in the curve of his arms, the way the early light softens the hard edges of his body. His chest rises and falls with each breath, the sheets barely clinging to his waist. One arm is thrown across the bed like he forgot he was ever trying to hold the world up.His hair's a mess, flattened in some places and sticking up in others from my hands, from sleep, from everything. His lips are swollen, my fault, and his neck is mottled with bruises I left there, like proof that I was here. That I touched something untouchable.God, he's beautiful. In the kin
ANDREA AGE 13"Your progress is phenomenal," Hailey, my therapist, says.I want to believe her. I want to feel like I've actually been moving forward. But I don't. I still can't think about a basement without my chest seizing up. How is that progress?I hold her gaze, searching for the right words.
ANDREA AGE 12Four weeks have passed since I moved in with Dorathy and Cade. On my first day, I met their sons. It was awkward.. being around new people always is. But I learned they were all adopted too, which I found strange, though I kept that thought to myself.Logan is the oldest, and easily t
ANDREA AGE 12 POVIt's dark and cold. I can't feel my wrists or my arms. I'm not sure I remember what feeling anything is like anymore. My parents locked me down here because they believe I'm evil, that keeping me hidden is how they protect the world from whatever they think I am.The sound of the
ANDREA AGE 16I close the front door behind me and slip off my tennis shoes, setting them neatly against the wall. Practice ran late, so I'm getting home later than usual. Nobody texted to ask where I was, which is a relief. I hope no one noticed.The house is quiet as I make my way to the kitchen.







