"Found you."

I froze when the cold, raspy voice registered. My eyes adjusted to the dark alley, and I saw a man I never wished to see again standing before me, his hand on Mark's mouth.

Logan, one of the guards back at the House, grinned widely. A gray hoodie shadowed his features. Mark struggled, but he was no match for a grown man. Logan's beady eyes sparkled with satisfaction, his jaw covered in a dark scruff that hadn't been there the last time I saw him.

"You thought you were smart, eh?" he asked, then tightened his grip on Mark's face until Mark whimpered. "Stop moving, you little prick."

"Get your hands away from him," I hissed, taking a step towards him. Logan clicked his tongue and flashed a knife. The metal glinted against Mark's neck. I froze.

"One move and your precious little brother will die."

My gaze flickered to Mark. His eyes were wide, the blue nothing but a ring of color around big, dark pupils. His face looked ashen in the darkness of the alley.

The entrance of the narrow alley was farther than I expected. The sounds of the city reached us from a distance, cars and conversation and horns. It was as if we were alone in our own dark bubble.

"Now that we're all calm, let's talk." Logan licked his lips, leveling me with a cold smile. "You messed up big time, Little Blue. You made our life a living hell. You know what the guards have been through after you escaped?"

I clenched my jaw. My brain ran in circles for a plan. My hand slowly sneaked around to touch the knife in the back of my pants. All I needed was a distraction.

"We finally got a lead on you. You're a really smart bitch, aren't you? Sticking with rich people."

My heart almost stopped. He knew about them. He knew about Nathaniel and Claire. Logan chuckled darkly. "Oh yeah, we know about your little boyfriend. You've upset people in some very high places. And when I take you back, I'll have a generous tip. So here's how this is going to go-"

Shrill screams interrupted him. A bunch of children walked by the entrance of the alley, playing around with each other and screaming their little lungs out.

Logan's head snapped to the side for a second. One second. But it was enough.

My knife was out and unfolded in a moment. I stabbed it down Logan's fleshy arm. He cried out, dropping his weapon.

I jerked Mark away from his hold, pushed him away then snatched Logan's dagger from the ground.

"You bitch," Logan grunted. I swung the knife wildly his way. He staggered back. My knife was still buried in his arm, and blood darkened his hoodie.

I moved back toward the entrance of the alley, Mark behind me.

Logan's eyes sobered from the pain when he noticed the direction of my movement. I flung the knife at him and turned, running away with Mark.

Logan's curses echoed behind us. I clutched Mark's hand, and we made it out of the alley, stumbling into people on the sidewalk.

Mark and I ran like our lives depended on it, because they did. People gave us a wide berth. I glanced over my shoulder. I bumped into someone. My bag fell down.

Logan ran out of the alley, blood darkening his sleeve and dripping down his hand. He looked around, a deadly scowl on his face. Driven by the sight of that bastard, I dragged Mark and ran faster.

Home. We had to get home. It took me a moment to realize where we were. My body must have instinctively followed the way home. We were only a couple of blocks away.

Night was falling, and lights whirled past us. The tall apartment building came into view. I ran faster, my heart pumping in my ears and my breathing loud. Just a few more seconds. Come on.

My heart dropped when I saw a few figures lurking near the building. I tugged Mark sharply between two parked cars. I peeked. Sure enough, a few familiar faces were looking around. More guards.

"Damn it." My hand tightened around Mark's. I didn't have my phone with me, it was in my bag. Should I take a cab to the café? Or to Nathaniel's company? I didn't have money on me, but once I got there, I could borrow money from someone. If I just had a phone.

No time to think. We had to take a cab.

I moved with Mark through the cars. He followed my lead quietly. We moved away from the apartment building. I scanned the streets for a cab.

Hailing a cab this time of the day was no easy feat.

Then I spotted another one of those jackasses. I abandoned the streets and dove into an alley. Coming out the other side to another busy street.

Maybe I should borrow someone's phone? There was a restaurant on the other side down the street. Maybe I could find a phone there.

"There she is!"

I spun around. Two men were running down the street, their eyes on us. People glanced at them and moved out of their way.

They were closing in on us, screaming and pointing. Too close.

I rushed down the street, pulling Mark with me. Too late. I felt an arm snake around my waist and pull me back roughly.

"Mark! Run!!" I called, but another man was on him. I screamed for help, trashed in their grips and called for someone. Anyone.

People all around were looking with wide, terrified eyes. No one thought of stepping in and helping us. I even spotted two people with their phones out, filming. What a rotten world.

The men dragged us back. Mark and I struggled. My heart was beating its way out of my chest. No. We couldn't go back. Not after everything. We couldn't go back!

Then I heard it. Chris' voice. I looked around, he was coming out of the restaurant down the street. His eyes widened when he saw us. Alister was right behind him.

"Help! Chris!" I called, trashing more violently. My elbow caught the man holding me in his ribs. I swung wildly again. It hit his face. He cursed and dropped me.

"Fucking bitch," he said.

I scrambled to my knees, my ribs aching from the ruthless hold the guy had had on me. A blur shot past me. Chris. He knocked the man with a vicious punch. The House guard staggered back. He saw Alister running to join Chris and made a run for it. Chris turned to the man holding Mark. But he was too late.

The guard cursed loudly. Mark was still trashing in his hold. He turned and crossed the street.

Only, he didn't see the car speeding down the road.

I screamed.

As if in slow motion, the car hit the man and Mark. They flew, rolling over the roof of the car, and landed on the other side. The car screeched to a halt.

"Oh God," I mumbled, running with Chris behind the car.

Mark and the man were sprawled on the ground. Horns blared. People gathered.

Mark lay motionless, his head resting in a pool of his own blood.

I dropped to my knees next to him. My hands hovered over his limp body, helpless. Everything else faded into a blur of noise and colors.

It was like watching everything unfold from outside my body. Chris next to me. Ambulance. Police sirens. Mark on a stretcher. Somehow, Chris and I ended up in a hospital waiting room.

Mark went into surgery. The smell of the hospital would always remind me of that day. Of the helplessness, the fear, the agonizingly long wait.

I had always thought my life would be entirely different if Mark hadn't been born. If it wasn't for him, I doubted I would've even stayed alive up to this point. He was the reason for me to hold on when all I had wanted to do was disappear.

I stared blankly at the doors leading to the operating room, waiting for someone to come out, for someone to tell me that my little brother was going to be okay, that he would live.

He had to live. He was going to live. He was going to attend school, he was going to graduate, he was going to travel and see the world, he was going to win chess championships, he was going to grow into an amazing man. He was going to fall in love and have a family. He was going to be happy.

He had to.

Claire arrived shortly after we did. She and Chris spoke in hushed voices, but I didn't care. All my senses were fixed on the door beyond which my brother was fighting for his life.

The faint noise of people around, the squeaking of shoes on the floor, the bright lights overhead and the blue and green scrubs melting into a whirl of undistinguished colors. Nothing reached me. I was growing numb, retreating into myself, watching everything in a detachment I thought I had left behind in my previous life.

Everything was too much. I was afraid that if I let myself feel, I would crumble down and there would be no one to pick up the pieces.

But then I heard a voice. It banged on the walls and chased away the fog threatening to devour me.

"Daphne!"

Nathaniel. I looked away from the door in time to see him rushing down the hallway, dodging a nurse. His hair was disheveled, his tie loose and his shirt unbuttoned to reveal the column of his throat.

My heart started beating again. I was on my feet, walking up to him. His dark eyes were wild and reassuring. He opened his arms and crushed me to him, his heart beating loudly against my ear.

Little by little, his warmth and his familiar scent chipped down the wall around my heart, and I let myself feel again.

"Shh. It's okay, love. He'll be okay." His voice was muffled by my hair.

I realized I was shaking. I tightened my arms around him and swallowed the knot in my throat.

I refused to let the tears spill, because that would be admitting that something was wrong, that Mark was in danger. That wasn't a thought I was ready to accept.

Nathaniel held me for what seemed like hours. His body cocooning mine in safety. It wasn't until I heard a door open that I pulled away, turning around to see a doctor coming out of the surgery room.

His lips were set in a firm line as he approached us. I clung to Nathaniel. The doctor looked at us then sighed, the lines on his face a witness to so much life and death.

"He's stable now. He lost a lot of blood. A broken arm and bruised ribs. Fortunately, the head injury was superficial. If everything went well, he'll be conscious in the morning-"

Relief washed over my body and sent me to my knees. Nathaniel caught me in time, supporting my body until we reached the chairs. Claire and Chris were still talking to the doctor.

Nathaniel wrapped an arm around my shoulders, nestling me in his side. I laid my head on his chest, my breath stuck in my throat and my eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Shutting my eyes tightly, I pushed through the blizzard of emotions and focused on the important.

He was alive. He was okay.

"He's fine now," Nathaniel said, looking down at me with a small smile. "Alright?"

I nodded and turned my face to his chest, exhaling a shaky breath. Claire sat on my other side and Chris stood in front of us.

"The doctor said we can see him in the morning," Claire said.

"His injuries aren't life threatening." Chris frowned in thought. "The broken arm was the worst. Safe for a mild concussion, there's only a gash on the back of his head. The man holding him must have taken the worst of the fall."

Nathaniel stilled beside me, sharing a look with Chris. I wondered how much he'd told them. It wasn't like Chris had a clear idea on what happened, anyways.

"The police will be here in a few." Chris crouched before me. "What do you want to do?"

"I-I don't..." I shook my head. All I was thinking about was that Mark was alive and well. I needed a moment to sort through my head.

"It's okay, you don't have to talk to them now," Nathaniel said. "We'll have to do it tomorrow. Alright?"

"Okay," I breathed out, running a hand down my face.

"Claire, why don't you go home. We'll call you if anything comes up," Nathaniel said. When Claire opened her mouth, Nathaniel shook his head. "Go, you can come back in the morning. There's no need for us all to stay here. You can bring us a change of clothes tomorrow."

"Alright." Claire sighed, squeezing my hand. She stood up and offered me a smile. "I'll see you guys in the morning. Good night."

Claire left and Chris took her spot.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Eleven p.m.," Chris replied, checking his watch.

It felt like a truck had suddenly crashed into me. My entire body ached with exhaustion, and relief weighed down my chest. Chris pulled his phone out and walked away to speak on it. Nathaniel rubbed my back as I leaned my head on his shoulder. I didn't know how long I stayed like that. My mind simply blanked out, refusing to think. I yawned.

"You can sleep," he said. My eyes fluttered close. The last thing I felt was his lips lingering on my forehead.

When I awoke, I was laying on my back and missing Nathaniel's warmth.

"... to tell them what happened?"

"I don't know, but she can't hide it anymore, and if they're looking for her, it must be more serious than we thought."

Nathaniel. He was speaking with Chris, their voices pitched low.

"The man who was trying to take Mark is dead," Chris said. "And the one I knocked down managed to escape. But I think it'd be a good idea to have some body guards around for a while. I'll send some men."

"Thanks," Nathaniel said.

I stirred, blinking my eyes open to a white ceiling. I was in a hospital room, a rather large one. The light coming through the window suggested early morning. With a lush beige carpet, light brown drapes and a comfortable bed I was currently occupying, I would've thought I was in a hotel room if not for the sharp disinfectant scent.

Nathaniel and Chris sprawled in a sitting area near the window. Two large armchairs on either side of a glass coffee table.

I sat up. The men turned to me. Nathaniel stood up.

"Good morning," he said, approaching the bed. His eyes looked me over, concerned.

"Morning," I mumbled, running my hand through my hair in a feeble attempt to tame my wild waves. "What time is it?"

"A little before eight," Nathaniel replied, sitting on the edge of my bed. "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine. I need to see Mark." I removed the blanket. A sense of urgency took over me. Yesterday felt like a dream. I needed to see with my own eyes that he was alright.

Chris stood up, nodding at Nathaniel. "I'll go check with the nurse."

"Thank you," I said to Chris.

He smiled. "You're welcome, Daphne."

Nathaniel was quiet. Too quiet. He took one of my hands in both of his and stared at it like it held the answer to all his questions.

"Daphne, what happened?" he said, lifting his eyes to mine. "What happened yesterday?"

I gulped. I knew I had to say something, but I couldn't think clearly. All my mind was focused on was making sure Mark was okay. I closed my eyes tightly, blew out a breath, then opened them. "Can I see Mark first? I need to see him first. I can't deal with anything before that."

He sighed and kissed my knuckles. "Alright, then. Let's see Mark first."

A few minutes later, Chris arrived with a nurse. She led us to another room just down the hallway.

"Only one person please, and not for long," the nurse said, opening the door. Nathaniel and Chris leaned against the wall, and I followed the nurse inside.

Mark looked like he was just asleep. But his face was unusually pale. An IV was connected to his arm, and the other one was in a cast. The nurse checked him and noted something in a clipboard.

He looked so small in the large bed. I reached with a trembling hand to take his. Cold. His hand was colder than usual. A tear slipped down my cheek. I wiped it away and blinked back the rest.

After a few minutes, I kissed his forehead and left the room. Something burned in my chest.

I was furious.

All the fear, the sadness, the helplessness I'd felt mixed and twisted into one ugly knot of emotion. Anger.

Anger at myself for letting fear get in the way, for letting things get this far. But most of all, anger at the people who put us in this position in the first place.

I had prayed for a sign to help me reach a decision. I guess life couldn't have offered a better one. It was a slap to my face, a wake up call from my illusions.

Those people wouldn't leave us be. I knew their secret, and that fact alone made me a threat to them. They didn't care that I hadn't told anyone yet, and I was a fool to think they would.

But no longer.

They already found me. Might as well make their life harder.

Nathaniel raised his brow when he saw me. He and Chris straightened up.

"Let's go get some breakfast," Nathaniel said, his dark eyes too perceptive.

"The police will be here in a couple of hours," Chris said on our way to the elevator. "They need to talk to you about yesterday."

"I know," I replied as the elevator dinged. We filed inside. "But I want to talk to you first. Both of you."

I could feel their gaze on me. I was trying to channel my anger, let it consume me and give me strength to tell them everything.

It was time to lay all the cards on the table.