Sam stirs awake on the couch, her head pounding, the dull throb beneath her left eye intensifying as she opens her eyes. Her vision adjusts to the muted lighting, and the first thing she sees is Lynne kneeling beside her, her face etched with guilt and worry.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," Lynne whispers, her voice trembling. She reaches out but hesitates, her hand hovering awkwardly as if unsure whether Sam will accept the gesture.

Sam presses a palm to her forehead, sitting up slowly. She winces as the movement sends a sharp pain radiating through her skull. "It's fine," she mutters, though the tightness in her voice betrays her discomfort.

Henry approaches, holding a small plastic bag filled with ice. He thrusts it toward her, avoiding direct eye contact. "Here. For the... uh, bruise."

Sam takes the ice pack without a word, pressing it against her swollen eye. The cold stings at first, but the relief is immediate. "Thanks."

Lynne fidgets, her fingers twisting the hem of her sweater. "I didn't want to. I swear, Sam, I—"

"I get it," Sam interrupts, her voice softer now. She glances at Lynne, offering a small, crooked smile. "You didn't have a choice."

Austin, leaning casually against the wall, chimes in, his tone edged with frustration. "Mother was 'satisfied,' if that makes you feel any better. She gave us the rest of the day off. Not that it means anything."

"Day off from what?" Maddie asks, her voice barely audible as she curls into herself at the far end of the couch. "It's not like we're on some job."

"It's her way of messing with us," Henry mutters, sitting on the armrest of the couch. "Keep us guessing. Keep us freaked."

Maddie frowns, her dark eyes darting to Sam. "Why? Why is she doing this to us?"

"No clue," Henry replies, his voice clipped. He glances toward the laptop on the desk, its screen black and lifeless. "But if we're lucky, my 'friend' might have some answers."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Your mysterious computer friend? He hasn't sent anything, has he?"

Henry hesitates, his gaze flickering nervously to the laptop. "Not yet. But I'll check again."

"I hope so," Austin snaps. "If he is on our side."

"He is." Henry counters. He rises from the couch and crosses to the desk, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor breaking the tense silence. The laptop hums to life as he opens it, and the soft glow of the screen bathes his face.

Before Henry can navigate to the inbox, the big screen on the wall flickers, drawing everyone's attention. The abrupt movement causes Austin to straighten, his usual nonchalance replaced with wary curiosity.

"What now?" Lynne murmurs, inching closer to Maddie.

The screen brightens, revealing a montage of photographs. The images shift slowly, each one deliberate and vivid. Lynne gasps, her hand flying to her mouth as she recognizes a photo of herself as a child, sitting on her father's lap while her mother beamed beside them.

"Mom... Dad..." Lynne whispers, her voice breaking.

Maddie's face lights up briefly with recognition as the next image appears. It's a photo of her older sister, Zoe, holding her hand outside their childhood home. The sight brings tears to Maddie's eyes, and she wipes at them hastily, as if ashamed to show weakness.

Henry abandons the laptop, his focus shifting entirely to the screen. His heart sinks as he sees a picture of himself, his mother, and Ariel during one of their rare family outings. His mom looks tired but happy, her arm wrapped protectively around Ariel.

Austin exhales sharply, a bitter edge to the sound. His eyes linger on a photo of a woman holding a baby—his mother. More images follow, each one chronicling his life with Joan, the family maid who practically raised him. But there's nothing of his father except for a single stiff family portrait, one that feels more like a PR stunt than a memory.

He slumps onto the couch, his hands gripping his knees. Lynne glances at him, her concern evident. "Are you okay?"

Austin doesn't answer at first. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and tight. "How does she have these? How does Mother know everything about us?"

Sam's gaze sharpens as the next image appears. It's a faded photograph of two adults holding a baby. The resemblance to her own features is unmistakable, but the sight ignites a fire of defiance in her chest.

Then another image surfaces, one that guts her entirely—a familiar snapshot of her and Brandy outside the orphanage. Sam stiffens, her grip on the ice pack tightening. Henry, who had been watching quietly, notices the change in her demeanor.

"That girl..." Henry starts, his curiosity outweighing his caution. "Who is she?"

"No one," Sam snarls, her voice cutting through the room like a whip. She stands abruptly, tossing the ice pack onto the couch. "Forget it."

Before anyone can stop her, she strides out of the Gathering Zone and disappears into her room. Henry watches her go, conflicted, before retreating back to the laptop. He types a quick message to Elijah:

Subject: Helm...

This is Data. Beam up something, Spock? Anything?

***

On the twelfth day, the pictures continue to haunt them. Throughout the whole day, the screen flashes more images of their loved ones, a cruel reminder of what they've been torn away from. The tension among the group grows, their unity fraying under the weight of their shared helplessness.

Though as it shifts to the thirteenth day, a blaring siren shatters the uneasy silence. The sound is deafening, reverberating through every corner of the house. The teens stumble out of their rooms, clutching at their ears as they try to make sense of the chaos.

"What is that?" Lynne shouts, her voice barely audible over the wailing noise.

Henry shakes his head, his face pale. "I don't know!"

The sound seems to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once, an omnipresent assault on their senses. Driven by desperation, they rush to the Gathering Zone, their movements frantic.

"Could it be the Forbidden Room?" Maddie yells, her voice tinged with panic.

Sam shakes her head, her face set in grim determination. "Who cares? We need to stop it."

They scatter, searching the walls and corners for anything that might silence the siren. Maddie's gaze lands on the camera lens above the screen, and she freezes. The red light is on, glowing steadily.

"Guys!" She shouts, pointing upward. "It's Mother!"

As if on cue, the siren cuts off abruptly, leaving a heavy, ringing silence in its wake. The teens exchange wide-eyed glances, their breath coming in short gasps.

Mother's voice crackles through the speakers, smooth and mocking. "Good morning, children. Did I wake you?"

Austin groans, running a hand through his hair. "What do you want now?"

"Oh, Austin," Mother coos. "Always so impatient. I simply thought you needed an alarm clock. You've been far too relaxed lately."

Sam steps forward, her fists clenched. "What's your game this time?"

Mother's red lens swivels, locking onto her. "No game, Sam. Just a little... motivation. Now, get dressed. The nation is ready for your next challenge."

"What if we don't?" Sam grunts, her voice brimming with defiance.

Mother's tone darkens, her amusement vanishing. "Oh, Sam. I wouldn't test me if I were you. Unless you'd like to see just how far I can go."

The threat hangs in the air, chilling and unspoken. The others glance nervously at Sam, silently pleading with her to back down. After a tense moment, Sam relents.

"That's good, Samantha." Mother's voice laced with a narcissistic attitude. "Now, my children, change! We're going to have some fun today. Don't forget..."

The teens realize what she wants and realizing they can't argue back. They all concede in a dreadful unison. "Yes, Mother."

"Oooo!" Mother gleefully ecstatic. "If I had a real mouth, I would smile and kiss you on your foreheads. Now, go along... Change!"

One by one, the teens turn back around to their rooms. Lynne notices Sam is staying behind. Sam wants to say something to Mother. Except Sam knows she has to play along if she likes it or not. Reluctantly, she turns on her heel and storms toward her room.

As the others already in their rooms, Lynne lingers and walks alongside Sam. Lynne checks up with her.

"I thought we were supposed to be in control."

Mother's voice echoes behind them, smug and triumphant. "I'm waiting, my children. Don't take long."

The red light remains on, a constant, unyielding presence. Sam pauses at her doorway, glancing over her shoulder. Her eyes meet Lynne's, and her expression softens just slightly.

"I hope we still are."