Timeline - August 23rd - Earlier that morning.

**** ****

The tension in Matthew's office was suffocating, the kind of pressure that crawled under the skin and refused to relent. The air vibrated with the aftermath of Charlotte and Jesse's shouting match. Mya clung to Jesse's arm, her grip firm as she tried to reel in Jesse's barely contained fury. Richie stood as a human wall between the two women, his broad shoulders squared, his presence the only thing keeping the confrontation from devolving into chaos.

"I just need to know where he is, that's all!" Charlotte's voice cracked, cutting through the tense air like a jagged blade. It wavered with desperation, louder and more strained than even she intended.

"Far away from you," Jesse snapped, her words dripping with venom, a smirk twisting her face. "And he'd like to keep it that way."

"Enough!" Mya's sharp tone silenced them momentarily, her hands raised as she turned to Charlotte. Her voice, though low, carried an unyielding edge. "Charlotte, listen to me. Toni is not here. That wasn't a lie. But you cannot keep showing up like this. This is Allegiant. You're not welcome here. You've been told that more times than I can count."

Charlotte's hands trembled at her sides, her fingers curling into tight fists as her gaze darted toward the floor. She drew a shaky breath, the defiance on her face faltering beneath the weight of her emotions. "I just need to talk to him," she said, barely above a whisper. Then louder, more urgent: "I need to explain things. To explain everything to him!"

"No!" Jesse roared, surging forward like a storm unleashed. Her finger jabbed the air in front of Charlotte's face, her whole body bristling with unrestrained fury. "No! You don't get to explain anything, because he doesn't want to see you. How many times do we need to spell it out for you? He's. Done. With. You. Get it through your thick skull, Charlotte."

Charlotte lifted her chin, defiance sparking in her tear-streaked eyes. "Then why did he send me a comms piece, huh?" Her voice cracked but gained an edge of desperation as she stepped forward, matching Jesse's ferocity. "Why did he tell me to come here, to meet him? He said he wanted to see me!"

The room stilled. Her words hung in the air like a bomb waiting to detonate. Richie, Jesse, and Mya exchanged glances, their disbelief sharp enough to cut through the thick tension.

"W-what?" Richie finally broke the silence, his voice tight with suspicion. "He contacted you?"

"No," Jesse interjected sharply, her voice brimming with certainty and disdain. She shook her head, stepping closer to Charlotte, her lips curling in an incredulous sneer. "No, that's bullshit. He wouldn't. That's not happening. You're delusional, Charlotte. You're not seeing him. Not now, not ever. Over my dead fucking body."

Charlotte's lips quivered as she fought to steady her breathing. Her voice rose, trembling but fierce, the weight of her desperation spilling out unchecked. "But he wants to see me!"

Jesse let out a sharp, bitter laugh, her hand brushing Richie's as if she needed him to hold her back. "Wants to see you?" she repeated, her tone thick with sarcasm. "Oh, honey, you must've really convinced yourself of that fairy tale while you were talking to yourself in the mirror. Toni has moved on. He's done. And if you had an ounce of self-awareness, you'd be done too."

"No!"

"Get. Out!" Jesse roared suddenly, her voice raw with anger as she took a menacing step forward. "You psychotic fucking bitch! Get out before I break your face. I'm serious. Leave."

Charlotte stumbled back, her chest heaving as tears blurred her vision. Richie stepped in, grabbing Jesse by the arm and pulling her back, though she fought him, her fury barely contained. "Jesse, enough," he hissed under his breath, his voice low but firm. "This isn't helping."

Mya stepped into the silence, her gaze sharp as a blade. "Charlotte," she said coolly, her words biting as she moved forward, forcing Charlotte to look at her. "You need to leave. Now. If Toni decides to come back, it's his choice. But you will not be here waiting for him when he does. Do you understand me? This ends here."

"You don't understand," Charlotte whispered, her voice trembling. She glanced at each of them, her face crumbling under their combined glares. "You don't know what I know. You don't understand why I need to talk to him—why he needs to know the truth."

Mya took another step forward, her voice sharpening. "I don't care what you think Toni needs to know. Whatever you thought you were to him—it's over. "

"Please," Charlotte begged, tears streaming down her face, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. "Please, just... please let me talk to him."

Richie tightened his grip on Jesse, who was still glaring daggers at Charlotte. "You heard Mya," Richie said flatly. "Go."

Charlotte's shoulders sagged, the fire in her eyes dimming into hollow resignation. She turned toward the door, but before leaving, she paused, glancing over her shoulder with one final, quiet defiance. "If he wants to see me, I'll be at the bakery house. Tell him he knows where to find me."

"Don't hold your breath!" Jesse snapped, her voice like venom.

As the door slammed shut behind Charlotte, the silence left in her wake was deafening. The tension still lingered, vibrating in the air, until a sudden flash of lightning split the sky outside. The thunder that followed shook the walls, a violent punctuation to the chaos that had just unfolded.

Richie stepped back from Jesse, his expression darkening as his attention snapped to the window. "What the hell was that?" he muttered, his voice low and tense.

Another flash of lightning lit up the storm-drenched landscape, the jagged bolt tearing across the sky and illuminating the room in an eerie, pale light. Without a word, the three of them drifted toward the window, their eyes narrowing as they peered out into the chaos of rain and shadow.

There, advancing steadily through the storm, was a faint, flickering figure. Its outline pulsed with irregular bursts of light, casting strange, fragmented patterns across the soaked terrain.

"Urm?" Jesse muttered, her voice caught between confusion and unease. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the windowsill, leaning closer as if trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

From their vantage point, the figure grew sharper with each step. Waves of energy radiated from its form, flaring in erratic bursts that lit up the rain-soaked field like brief flashes of lightning before plunging everything back into shadow. Its movements were deliberate, unhurried but exuding an undeniable power that made the air feel heavier, almost suffocating.

Mya squinted, her breath catching in her throat as the figure came into sharper focus. Her instincts screamed, her skin prickling as every nerve in her body told her something was terribly wrong. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, a visceral reaction to the unnatural presence advancing toward them. "Do you see...?" Her voice faltered, trailing off into silence.

The piercing wail of the compound's alarms erupted suddenly, slicing through the storm like a jagged blade. The noise jolted all three of them, their bodies flinching in unison. The alarms were deafening, each pulse deliberate, their meaning unmistakable: this was no drill.

Richie's jaw clenched as he stepped back from the window, the tension in his posture making every muscle in his body seem coiled and ready to snap. "I don't like this," he muttered, his voice tight with unease. His eyes flicked to Mya, then Jesse, searching for any reassurance that wasn't there. "I've got a really bad feeling about this."

***** ******

Matthew guided the craft into the hangar, the engines winding down with a low hum that echoed in the quiet space. Before the noise had fully faded, Eko was already out of her seat, moving down the narrow aisle with hurried, unsteady steps. He watched her disappear into the small onboard bathroom, concern tightening his features as he quickly followed after her.

When he reached the door, he found her kneeling on the floor, her hands gripping the edge of the toilet, her knuckles white as another wave of nausea wracked her body. Her shoulders trembled, and a muffled groan escaped her lips, filled with frustration and pain.

"God," she rasped, her voice hoarse and trembling as she leaned forward, her forehead almost touching the cold porcelain. "Babe, why me? Seriously... whyyy?" Her words were half a whine, half a plea, a perfect cocktail of exhaustion and self-pity that tugged at Matthew's chest.

He moved instantly, dropping to his knees beside her with quiet determination. One hand swept her damp, disheveled hair away from her flushed face, his touch gentle and deliberate. The other settled firmly on the small of her back, steady and grounding, his warmth cutting through the cold tile floor and the oppressive weight of her nausea.

For a moment, the only sounds were her labored breaths and the faint hum of the hangar beyond the craft. Then, a teasing smirk crept across Matthew's lips, softening the tension in his face. "Well, look at it this way," he said, his tone light and deliberately playful. "This is a preview of what it's going to look like when you are pregnant."

Eko groaned, letting her forehead drop to rest against her arm as she sagged against the toilet. "A baby will be worth it," she muttered, her voice muffled and laced with exhaustion. She shifted slightly, shooting the toilet a half-hearted glare. "This virus? This is just here to ruin my life."

Matthew chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm as it filled the cramped bathroom. "You'll survive, babe," he said, his voice low and soothing, the rough edges of his worry hidden behind his steady tone. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering.

"Ugh... I'm so over this. I just need you to make it stop."

His lips curved into a faint smile, the affection in his expression unmistakable. "If I could, you know I would," he murmured, his gaze soft as he took in her exhausted form. Even in this state, she was still Eko—stubborn, fiery, and determined. That spark hadn't dimmed, not even a little.

"But for now," Matthew said softly, shifting to help her up, "let's get you off this floor and into bed. You've had enough fun for one day, don't you think?"

Eko groaned in response but didn't resist as he gently lifted her, her weight leaning into his steady frame. "Fine," she muttered, her voice tinged with fatigue and the faintest trace of defeat. Yet somewhere in her grumble, there was a flicker of gratitude.

"I'll call the doctor when you're settled," Matthew continued, his tone firm yet caring. "We'll see if they can sort out something stronger—whatever they gave you last time clearly isn't cutting it."

Her lips twitched into the faintest smile as she straightened slowly with his help. "You know," she murmured, her voice soft but laced with dry humor, "for all your flaws, you're not half bad at this husband thing."

Matthew chuckled, his tone playful as he steadied her. "Flaws? Excuse me, but I'm flawless. And if you need proof, just remember that I voluntarily deal with you when you're like this."

Eko gave him a weak glare, though the corner of her mouth twitched with amusement. "Voluntarily? Please. You signed up for this, buddy."

"That I did," Matthew replied, smirking as he tightened his grip around her waist, steadying her as they made their way toward the elevator. "Sickness and health, babe. You're stuck with me." His grin widened as they stepped inside, and as the doors slid closed, he pulled her closer, brushing a soft kiss against her temple.

Eko rolled her eyes, though the faint tug at the corners of her lips betrayed her amusement. "God, you're so annoying," she muttered, letting her head rest against his shoulder.

"And yet, here you are," Matthew countered, his voice dripping with playful smugness. "Sick, half-dead, and still married to me. So, really, who's the annoying one here?"

Eko snorted, her voice dry but full of teasing as she shot back, "Next time, I'm marrying someone boring. Someone who doesn't whine or talk back like you do."

"Oh, yeah?" Matthew quipped, leaning his head slightly to look down at her with mock disbelief. "Boring? You? Good luck with that. You'd last maybe two minutes before you were begging for me back."

"Pu-leasseee," she drawled, lifting her head just enough to glare at him half-heartedly. "At least boring guys don't run their mouths 24/7 and call it charm. That's just arrogance babe."

Matthew chuckled softly, his grin never fading. "Maybe, but at the end of the day, boring guys don't go beheading youmas for sport with their wives, and nor can they carry you when you're half-passed out and looking like death warmed over."

Eko smirked, her tired eyes sparkling as she glanced up at him like he hung the stars in her sky. "You're such a dickkkk," she said, but her tone was light, affectionate.

"Yea ...but you love me for it," he replied smoothly, his grin full of playful confidence.

She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head as they stepped out of the elevator. Together, they made their way toward the office toward whatever chaos awaited them.

***** ******

Mya sat with her phone in her hands, her thumb absently scrolling across the screen as the rain tapped a relentless rhythm against the window. Jesse and Richie's voices filled the room, their sharp and overlapping words slicing through the tense air like jagged edges. Their frustration crackled around her like static, but Mya barely registered it. The world outside the small glow of her phone seemed distant, muffled, fading into irrelevance as her eyes scanned the same line of text for the fifth time.

Her breathing hitched, shallow and uneven, as she reread Sawyer's message. Her stomach churned, her thoughts tangling in a chaotic mess of disbelief and dread.

"Please, Mya, just talk to me. I can't lose you. You mean everything to me. We were supposed to build a life together, remember? I still love you—I'll always love you. Don't let this end like this. Please, he's gotten into your head, I know this isn't what you want."

The sharp chatter in the room continued—Jesse's raised voice, Richie's pacing footsteps—but Mya barely noticed. Her chest tightened, her heart caught in a painful vise as her eyes scanned the message again and again, hoping futilely that the weight of it might ease with repetition. But it didn't. Instead, the words seemed to grow heavier, embedding themselves deeper into her mind.

Another buzz. Another message.

"You're not safe with him, Mya. You know that. He's not going to stay when things get hard. He never does. But I'm here. I've always been here, and I'll always be here. And I'm sorry for my behavior, but I will fight for you, for Mac—for what we had."

Her breath hitched, and she pressed her lips together, fighting the emotions clawing their way up her throat. Richie's pacing filled the room, his voice snapping with irritation as he and Jesse argued, but Mya couldn't pull herself out of the spiral the messages dragged her into.

Buzz. The screen lit up again.

"Look, I know you're scared, because this, this is real between us, and your running. Trust me when I say that you're making a mistake if you do this."

"He's not going to like this," Richie snapped, dragging Mya's attention momentarily back into the room. He was pacing back and forth relentlessly now, like a bee in his bonnet, his frustration written in every step, his eyes darting to Jesse, who was equally agitated.

"We shouldn't have left her alone in the infirmary!" Richie added, his voice rising with irritation.

Buzz.

"Mya, please, you know what I am talking about," the next message read, "when the going gets tough, Richie will leave you. You and Mac will be alone. I do not want you to go through that again. People like him do NOT change."

Her breath hitched, tears pricking at the edges of her vision. Sawyer had always known how to twist the knife just enough to make her question herself.

Buzz. Another.

Another.

Another.

Buzz.

Jasmine, standing near the corner of the room, glanced between them, her unease evident in the tight grip she had on her arms. "At least she's under sedation," she said cautiously, her voice tinged with the hope of reassurance. "She can't go anywhere—right, Mya?"

A sharp buzz vibrated through Mya's phone, a second message joining the first, pulling her focus deeper into the device's glow.

"Mya!" Richie's voice cut through her haze, snapping her back to the present like a slap of cold air. Her head jerked up, her pulse racing as she realized the room had fallen into a heavy silence. All eyes were on her now, their tension palpable in the charged atmosphere.

She froze, her fingers tightening around her phone as though it might steady her. The memory of Sawyer's message still clung to her thoughts, wrapping around her chest like a vice. "Uh... yeah," she managed, her voice strained as she locked her phone and set it face down on her lap. She straightened in her seat, forcing a sharp breath into her lungs, trying to clear the weight pressing down on her. "She's under sedation. Physically, she can't go anywhere."

Richie's eyes narrowed, his sharp gaze cutting into her like a scalpel. "Mya?" he pressed, his tone measured but laden with suspicion. He wasn't buying it.

She hesitated, the moment stretching just long enough for her unease to crack the edges of her calm facade. Forcing a tight smile, she repeated, "She can't go anywhere." Her words were firmer this time, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

Richie's frown deepened, his scrutiny unwavering, but he didn't push further. Instead, he turned back to Jesse and Jasmine, his focus shifting to the immediate problem. "Sedation or not, she's dangerous. We all saw what she's capable of. We need eyes on her, 24/7."

Mya exhaled silently, the reprieve brief. The conversation in the room resumed, the tension bleeding back into sharp words and clipped tones. But her mind wasn't in the room anymore. It was still tethered to the messages.

"I don't know what I'll do without you. I can't live without you, Mya. Please... just answer me. You owe me that much. You owe me for everything I've done for you. I need to see you. Please, I need time with you."

Her thumb brushed over the edge of the phone absentmindedly. She knew she couldn't reply, knew she shouldn't. But the weight of it all—the rain, the voices, the constant messages—it pressed down on her, suffocating her.

Jasmine's voice cut through the haze. "None of us are thrilled about this situation," she said cautiously, her tone betraying her own unease. "But we've got to think that this could be a setup, an ambush. We don't know her intentions, or what's really going on. As long as she's sedated, we're safe... it's fine."

Before anyone could respond to Jasmine's warning, the office doors swung open, the sharp creak silencing the room. All eyes snapped to Matthew as he entered with Eko close at his side. Matthew's expression was carved from stone, his eyes scanning the room with cold precision. Eko, however, looked pale and unsteady, her movements slower than usual as she took in the atmosphere. Her gaze flicked from face to face, her brow furrowing deeply.

"Oh, God... what happened?" Eko asked, her voice cautious but heavy with apprehension. She stopped just inside the doorway, Matthew keeping a steady arm around her as though grounding her.

Matthew's eyes swept over the group, his jaw clenching tightly. His tone was low but carried the quiet command that always silenced a room. "I need five minutes before whatever shitstorm you're about to throw at me. Eko needs to get to bed. Mya, can you check her out? She needs something stronger."

Richie shifted uncomfortably, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze darted between the others. His hesitation was palpable, but when he spoke, his words were measured, deliberate. "I think... maybe Ek's should stay for this," he said, his voice steady but cautious.

Eko's gaze flicked to Matthew, her sharp instincts immediately picking up on the tension in the room. The unease radiating from the group was almost tangible, the way they avoided each other's eyes, the too-heavy silence that followed Richie's words. Her own uneasiness deepened as she straightened, her brow furrowing.

Eko's breath hitched, her voice barely above a whisper as the weight of Richie's words pressed down on her like a crushing wave. "What's going on?" she asked, her tone tight with unease, the knot in her stomach tightening with every passing second.

Richie pointed sharply toward the ceiling, his frustration radiating in every tense line of his body. "That fucking witch's daughter," he growled. "She's in our infirmary."

The words hit Eko like a physical blow. The room seemed to tilt, her vision narrowing as the gravity of what he'd just said settled over her. Her gaze darted between Richie, Jesse, Mya, and Jasmine, their faces etched with unease and tension. She barely registered Matthew's arm slipping from her shoulders.

"What... what did you just say?" Her voice trembled, caught between disbelief and shock.

Richie's eyes locked onto Matthew's, the unspoken tension crackling between them. "She's here," Richie repeated, his voice low but steady. "Sedated. But she's here."

Matthew, who had remained calm up to this point, snapped his head toward Richie, his tone razor-sharp. "Just... start that fucking sentence again," he demanded, his jaw tightening.

Before Richie could respond, Mya stepped forward, her voice measured but firm as she cut through the growing tension. "She's under sedation," she said, her gaze flicking between the two men. "She showed up about an hour ago in this storm. Her injuries were severe, Matthew—we didn't have a choice."

Eko's knees felt weak, her voice barely audible as the name slipped from her lips. "Teshia?" Her face had gone pale, the disbelief etched into her features. "Teshia is here?" Her hand flew to her mouth, her stomach twisting violently as the full weight of the revelation hit her. "Oh, God..." Without another word, she turned abruptly, bolting from the room, her steps uneven as she disappeared toward the nearest bathroom.

Matthew's gaze followed her, his worry plain as he clenched his fists at his sides. "Jasmine," he said sharply, his tone commanding. "Go after her. She shouldn't even be out of bed. Please?"

Jasmine nodded quickly and hurried after Eko, vanishing down the hallway. The soft echo of Eko's sharp voice faintly carried back as she begun dry wrenching.

Matthew exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair before turning to Mya. "She needs something stronger. I don't care what it is—just find something that helps. Please."

"I've got it," Mya replied, her tone resolute. "Alfian found a stronger antibiotic. I was going to give it to her before... everything escalated." She grabbed the syringe and bottle from the desk, her steps brisk as she moved toward the exit. "She'll feel better after this."

As Mya left, the weight of the situation settled heavily over the remaining group.

"Teshia?" Richie broke the silence, his voice laden with skepticism and unease. He leaned back against the desk, his brow furrowed as he tried to piece it together. "Ezra's daughter? We're saying that this is her actual fucking daughter?"

Matthew dragged a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to ward off the headache already forming. His expression was guarded, his voice low and sharp as he muttered, "What the fuck..."

Jesse's arms folded tightly across her chest, her jaw clenched as her eyes darted between the others. "She was supposed to be locked up on the eastern borders after that escape attempt," she said, her tone dripping with disbelief. "Everyone said she'd been executed for siding with the mages."

"Well," Richie said grimly, his voice tinged with dark humor, "looks like everyone was dead wrong."

Jesse turned sharply to Matthew and Richie, her frustration boiling over. "So what now?" she demanded, her tone biting. "Are we seriously entertaining this bullshit? With the intel provided, we agreed it was just rumors—her being tied to a black mage and everything else."

Richie exhaled heavily, his gaze flickering to Matthew. "Maybe," he said simply, his tone resigned.

Matthew, who had begun pacing the room, stopped abruptly. His jaw tightened with each step, the tension radiating off him palpable. He was about to speak when Mya reentered the room, her presence pulling his attention.

"We literally had to hold your wife down," Mya said with a faint smirk, shaking her head in exasperation. "Her needle phobia is next level." She sighed, her voice softening as her expression turned serious. "Anyway, give it thirty minutes. The antibiotics should kick in. Jasmine's staying with her."

Matthew nodded curtly, his mind already refocusing. "When will Teshia wake up?" he asked, his voice sharp, laced with urgency.

Mya moved to the holographic console embedded in the desk, her fingers dancing over the glowing keys. The faint hum of the system filled the room, the only sound against the heavy silence as everyone waited for an answer. Streams of data scrolled across the display, casting a faint blue light on her furrowed brow.

"If we keep her sedated," Mya began, her voice measured, "she could stay under for a few hours, maybe a day. It depends on how much her body needs to recover." Her fingers stilled suddenly, her eyes narrowing at a new set of readings. A knot of unease tightened in her stomach. "But..."

Richie's head snapped toward her, his eyes sharp. "But what?" he pressed, his voice cutting through the room like a knife.

Mya hesitated, her voice dropping. "Her vitals are spiking. Heart rate, neural activity, all of it. She's—" She glanced around the room, her unease mirrored in their wide-eyed stares. Her words came out like a heavy blow. "Teshia is already awake."

The room vibrated with a charged silence, the weight of the revelation settling heavily over them like a storm cloud. Matthew stood frozen for a moment, his jaw tightening before his gaze swept across the room, locking eyes with each of them. Then, without a word, he turned sharply and strode toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Richie's voice cut through the tension, a mix of alarm and irritation. Jesse and Mya mirrored his concern, their brows knitting together as Richie stepped forward.

"Stay here," Matthew ordered, his tone sharp, brooking no argument. He didn't stop moving. "I'm going to speak with Teshia myself. Mya, keep an eye on Eko. Jesse, Richie—get me an update on any unusual activity along the northern boundaries. I want answers, and I want them fast."

The door clicked shut behind him, the sound reverberating in the heavy silence he left behind. Mya crossed her arms, her sharp eyes flicking between Richie and Jesse, who looked momentarily thrown by Matthew's abrupt departure.

"Alright, someone care to explain what the hell just happened?" Mya's tone was cutting, her words biting as she gestured toward the now-closed door.

Jesse exhaled sharply, crossing her arms. "That wasn't his usual reaction to anything," she muttered, her brow furrowed deeply. "Something's definitely off."

Richie leaned against the wall, his arms folded tightly, his expression grim. "Think it's about Vause? He's stationed up north... and he's a mage."

Mya's head snapped toward Richie, her eyes narrowing. "Vause? The mage?"

"Yeah," Jesse said, her tone uneasy. "They met ages ago—back when we were kids. It was during that time we were separated briefly at the orphanages." She glanced at Richie, whose brow furrowed in confusion. Jesse hesitated, then added, "It's not a story he talks about much, but Vause owes him. And I think... I think they've kept in contact this whole time. But this?" She gestured toward the room, her expression tightening. "This whole thing with Teshia? It feels too connected to ignore."

Mya pressed her lips into a thin line, doubt flickering in her eyes. "You're not seriously suggesting..."

"That's exactly what we're suggesting," Richie interjected, his tone sharper now, frustration seeping into his words. He glanced between Jesse and Jasmine for support. "Why else would she be here? Teshia, Ezra's daughter, just happens to show up out of nowhere? And we're supposed to believe it's just a coincidence? No way. She's here to cause trouble. To bring this war right to our doorstep. Maybe she's been working with mommy dearest this whole time and the mages was a ruse?"

"Richie, Jesse, come on, that's enough," Mya said, her voice steady but firm, cutting through the rising tension. "Speculating without facts isn't helping anyone right now."

Richie threw his hands up in exasperation, his voice rising. "And ignoring it isn't helping either! We're talking about Teshia—Ezra's daughter! Her mother practically burned this world to the ground. You seriously think she's here for a friendly chat? That's delusional."

"Richie, we don't know anything for sure yet," Mya said calmly, though her tone carried a warning edge. Her arms crossed over her chest as she leveled him with a steady look. "Matthew will figure it out. Let's not lose our heads before we know what we're dealing with."

"I'm just saying—" Richie started, but Mya's voice cracked through the air like a whip, cutting him off.

"Enough, Richie!" she snapped, her frustration boiling over. Her words hung for a beat, but the sharp buzz of her phone on the table broke the tension. All eyes flicked toward it. Mya's gaze dropped, her shoulders stiffening as another message lit up the screen.

Richie's eyes narrowed, suspicion sharpening his features. "Who keeps texting you?" he demanded, his tone cutting and accusatory. He stepped closer, his voice lowering but no less biting. "Is it him?"

Jesse's eyebrows shot up, her gaze flicking between them as the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Richie suddenly surged forward, snatching the phone off the table before Mya could react.

"Richie, give it back!" Mya's voice cracked, trembling with anger, panic flaring in her eyes as she lunged for it. "That is my phone!"

"No!" Richie barked, his grip tightening around the device. He held it high, his expression darkening as it buzzed again in his hand. His voice was raw, tinged with frustration and something deeper—something wounded. "How many times has he messaged you today, huh?"

Jesse stepped back, her hands raised in mock surrender as her eyes widened. "Alright," she muttered, clicking her tongue. "I'm not touching this one." She turned, backing toward the hallway with brisk steps. "I'll check on Eko and Jasmine. Y'all figure this shit out."

Mya stood frozen, her arms stiff by her sides as Richie's words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. Her chest heaved, the storm of emotions inside her threatening to spill over. "Richie," she said again, her voice trembling, the tears in her eyes blurring her vision. "Please, just stop."

But Richie's gaze didn't waver, his brow furrowed with equal parts frustration and pain. "What is he saying?" he asked again, quieter this time, but his tone carried a weight that made her flinch. His grip on the phone slackened as his eyes softened ever so slightly. "I'm asking you before I read them, Flick. Just... tell me."

Mya's breath hitched, her throat tightening as the truth loomed over her, suffocating. Her fingers flexed at her sides before she exhaled shakily, her voice breaking as she forced out the words. "Read them."

Richie hesitated for a brief moment, his eyes locked on hers, searching for something—an answer, a reassurance, a reason to stop. But when none came, he turned his attention to the phone. As he scrolled through the messages, the tension in his jaw returned, his expression hardening with every passing second.

He didn't speak. Instead, with a sharp, resigned exhale, he tossed the phone back onto the chair. The sound of it landing echoed in the quiet room, a punctuation mark on the unspoken conflict between them.

Mya didn't move. Her arms hung limply at her sides, her fingers twitching as though she wanted to reach for something, anything to ground herself. The tears came before she could stop them, sliding silently down her cheeks. Richie's shoulders slumped as he watched her, the anger draining from his face and leaving behind something raw and unguarded. He stepped toward her, his movements slow, deliberate, as though he were approaching something fragile. His hand brushed her arm, then slid around her, pulling her gently into him. Mya didn't resist.

He held her tightly, his arms a cocoon of warmth and safety as he rested his chin against her hair. For a moment, he just breathed, letting the silence settle over them like a fragile truce.

"I love you, Flick," Richie murmured, his voice low and steady, grounding her in the truth of his words. "And I know we've been through hell—together and apart—but we're not the same people we were back then. That's what Teddy keeps reminding us, right?" His hand moved to the back of her head, cradling her as though she might break apart. "It's not about erasing the past; it's about learning from it. It's about showing up for each other every day and proving that we're worth the fight."

He paused, his hands slowing their movement as he straightened slightly, his gaze locking onto hers. His eyes searched her face, scanning every flicker of emotion. "We're going to make mistakes, both of us. That's a given," he said, his tone steady but weighted. "But we've got to stop expecting the worst from each other. We have to trust that we can face the hard stuff together. It's the only way we move forward."

Mya let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightening on the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only anchor keeping her steady. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, her voice trembling as she finally spoke. "It's just... it's so much harder than I thought it would be," she admitted.

Richie tilted his head, leaning back just enough to meet her gaze, his hands shifting to rest firmly on her shoulders. His touch was grounding, his thumbs brushing lightly over her collarbones as his eyes softened. But there was no wavering in his expression—just quiet, unflinching intensity. "You love him, don't you?" he asked gently, his voice devoid of judgment, carrying only a quiet, open understanding.

Her answer came quickly, quietly, but with firm resolve. "I love you more."

A faint smile flickered across Richie's face as he leaned his forehead against hers, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And that's all I need to hear. Because for that reason, Flick, I'm going to keep showing up. Always."

"Well isn't that a bit cute, you two," The teasing drawl snapped Richie and Mya out of their moment, their heads turning toward the doorway. There stood Toni, casually leaning against the frame with a smirk playing on his lips, biting into an apple like he didn't have a care in the world, but their face told him something completely differnt.

"Oh man, what? What did I walk into?"

***** *****

Teshia blinked, the sterile lights burning against her raw eyes, each breath dragging through her battered body like shards of glass. Memories clawed at her mind, jagged and relentless, as she lay frozen beneath the weight of exhaustion.

"Teshia?" Matthew's voice sliced through the silence, sudden and sharp, like a lifeline thrown into a storm. It tore her from the haze, yanking her into the present.

"Please," she whispered, her voice breaking, her eyes wide with desperation. "I need your help."

Matthew stood motionless, the storm of her plea crashing into him, knowing there was nothing more dangerous—or more heart-wrenching—than a human being on the brink of losing it all.