"Bell, please, wake the hell up." A loud, urgent whisper pierced the haze of my half-conscious mind, jolting me out of whatever dream I was trapped in.

I opened my eyes to find Mason beside me, breathing heavily, his hands shaking as he tried to rouse me. My mind was still foggy, clinging to the remnants of sleep, but I could see his panic clearly—his eyes wide with fear, his breath erratic.

Suddenly, the fog cleared, and panic gripped me. I wasn't sure what was happening, but I could feel the intensity of the moment, the way my chest tightened with anxiety. Mason was stumbling across my room, pacing in wild, erratic movements, his eyes flicking back and forth as if they were ticking like clocks. It was like he was losing control.

"Mason, Mason! Look at me, calm down!" My voice cracked, panic lacing every syllable as I reached for him. But when he met my gaze, I saw pure terror reflected in his eyes, his breath coming in sharp gasps as his eyes continued to move frantically. It was like he was trapped in a nightmare, and I didn't know how to pull him out of it.

Then, as if from nowhere, Adler appeared in the doorway. His expression was a mix of confusion and exhaustion, rubbing his eyes as if he had just been dragged from the deepest part of sleep. He looked between Mason and me, trying to make sense of the scene in front of him.

For a moment, everything was frozen. The tension in the room was thick, and I could hardly process what was happening—what was happening? The fear in Mason's eyes felt contagious, and Adler's presence only added to the confusion. What had woken us up like this? Why was everything so wrong?

"What the fuck is going on? It's four in the goddamn morning," Adler's voice broke the heavy silence as he stood in the doorway, still rubbing his eyes, clearly not understanding what was unfolding.

"Get out, Russ." I waved him off, sending him a sharp look that silently said, I've got this.

Without a word or a second thought, Adler backed out of the room, leaving me alone with Mason. The door clicked shut behind him, and the weight of the situation hit me even harder.

I turned back to Mason, who had collapsed onto my couch, his breath still shaky, his eyes darting around the room like he was searching for something that wasn't there. I sat beside him, unsure of what to do, and before I knew it, he had leaned into me, his head falling onto my shoulder. His body was tense, his muscles rigid, but he seemed to find some small comfort in the simple contact.

"I can see the numbers. They're there, everywhere. They just live here." His voice was broken, fragile, and it sent a cold shiver through me. The words made no sense, but the terror in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. His mind was trapped in something he couldn't escape.

I couldn't even begin to fathom what PTSD had done to him, to anyone. I knew of it, but hearing it from someone who was living it made it feel far too real. This wasn't just some distant tragedy—it was here, in my room, in my life.

Without thinking, I jumped to my feet, my heart racing as I rushed to my bedside cabinet. I fumbled for a moment, pulling out a small plastic bottle of pills. I grabbed the glass of water from my nightstand and rushed back to him, my hands trembling as I held them out to him. I didn't know if they would help, or if they'd even be enough, but it was all I had to offer right now.

"Mason, please, take these," I urged gently, trying to keep my voice steady despite the frantic pace of my heart. I needed to help him, needed him to calm down before he spiralled any further. But all I could do was hope these small pills could at least give him a moment of relief.

"Take one of these, now, Mason. It'll knock you through 'til morning." I said, my voice firm but soft, as I handed him the tablet.

Mason didn't hesitate, swallowing the pill with the water I offered him. It took only about twenty minutes before his breathing steadied, and his body finally relaxed. The tension seemed to melt away as he drifted off to sleep on my couch, his face still haunted by whatever it was that lingered in his mind.

"Fucking hell. I need coffee," I muttered to myself, exhaustion crashing over me in waves. The adrenaline from the chaos had worn off, leaving behind the dull ache of fatigue and confusion.

My feet dragged as I made my way to the kitchen, hoping that something as simple as a cup of coffee might help clear the fog that had settled over me. The house, which had been filled with the chaos of the night, now felt eerily still. But as I entered the kitchen, I realized that wasn't the case.

Frank was standing against the counter, his back slightly hunched, his arms crossed as he stared at the floor. The moment I stepped into the room, he glanced up, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, neither of us said anything. It felt like we were both caught in the quiet aftermath of the storm, unsure of what to say next. I didn't know if Frank had heard everything that had happened or if he was just here for his own reasons, but one thing was clear—he wasn't sleeping either.

I walked over to the coffee machine, my movements slow and deliberate, as if the weight of the night was pulling me down. "Coffee?" I asked, trying to break the silence, though I wasn't sure if Frank even needed it. He probably hadn't slept much either.

He shrugged slightly, his gaze shifting away. "Yeah, sure."

I poured the hot brew, the rich aroma filling the air, and for a brief moment, the kitchen felt like a small slice of normality amidst the chaos. But even with the coffee in hand, I couldn't shake the unease that lingered in the pit of my stomach. There was so much I still didn't understand about what was happening—and about the people around me.

"Does this happen often?" I asked Woods as I placed the coffee mug in front of him, the warm steam rising in the quiet room.

"Once or twice a month, maybe. Not often, to be honest." Woods replied, his tone casual, but I could tell there was an edge of concern behind his words. "Did he tell you what happened?"

I shook my head, feeling a pang of frustration. "He told me briefly, hardly anything though."

Woods nodded thoughtfully, running a hand through his hair. "He's taken to you, which is rare. He doesn't open up to just anyone. For the last couple of years, it's been mostly just me—he sticks with me, and that's about it."

"Mason is a good guy," I said, more to myself than to Woods, but it felt true. I could see it in the way Mason was struggling, the way he carried the weight of whatever haunted him. I knew there was more to him than his fits of panic. "He just needs help."

Woods was silent for a moment before he nodded, clearly agreeing with me. "Yeah, he does."

I took a long sip of the coffee, letting the bitter warmth settle in my chest. The conversation between Woods and me continued in fits and starts, small talk, little questions about Mason, and the occasional comment about the oddness of the situation. It kept me awake, at least for the moment.

Eventually, Woods sighed heavily, looking around the room with a sort of resigned exhaustion. "I'm going to try and catch some sleep. I had coffee, but hell, I'm sure I can sleep through anything now." He rolled his eyes and dragged his feet toward the hallway, disappearing into his own room.

I was left sitting there, alone with my thoughts, and the unsettling silence that had filled the house after the chaos of earlier. In all honesty, I had no idea what to do next. I wasn't equipped to handle what was going on with Mason, and I certainly wasn't sure how to navigate the strange pull I felt toward Adler, who seemed to be tangled up in all of this, too.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something bigger was unfolding, something I wasn't yet ready to understand. With a sigh, I stood up and made my way to Adler's door. I knocked lightly, hoping he was still awake.

When the door creaked open, Adler stood there, looking a little more alert than before but still dressed in the same clothes from earlier. His gaze softened when he saw me, though his eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if wondering why I was there.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his voice low.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of exactly what I wanted to say. But in the end, I just shrugged. "I don't know. I just... I thought maybe we could talk. About earlier, I mean."

Adler nodded, stepping aside to let me in. The weight of the night still pressed on my chest, but somehow, being in his presence felt a little easier, like the world was a little less heavy.

"Come in," he said softly, his voice grounding me as I stepped over the threshold.

His room, like everything else about him, felt carefully curated, almost as if it were an extension of his character. A golden-green jacket was casually draped over the couch, while his leather jacket and gloves were neatly laid out on the chair beside the desk. The space was personal, yet understated—comfortable, but sharp. I noticed, though, that his desk, which had been cluttered with papers and files earlier, was now clean. The information tabs I had seen before were nowhere to be found.

"Is Mason okay?" Russell's voice pulled me from my observations. His tone was genuine, his brow furrowed with concern.

"He seems to be, yeah," I replied, still feeling a lingering worry. "I think he mentioned the numbers again... I'm really worried."

Adler didn't say anything for a moment. Instead, he walked over to his desk and took a seat, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a practiced ease. His eyes flicked over to me, as though waiting for more.

"What did you give him? It seemed to knock him out pretty fast," he asked, his gaze calm but curious.

"Sleeping pills," I said, shifting a little as I recalled the moment. "I was prescribed them when I had my stitches removed because I wasn't sleeping great. It works like a charm."

Adler chuckled lightly, the sound of his laugh surprisingly warm. He took a slow drag from his cigarette before speaking again. "I don't blame him. I'm exhausted, too."

He exhaled, the smoke curling lazily around him. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though his eyes betrayed a hint of weariness. It was strange seeing him like this, tired and a little vulnerable, but it made him feel more... real. More human.

"I'm so tired," I admitted, my voice softening as I leaned back in his chair I'd made myself comfortable on.

I didn't know what else to say, so I just nodded, feeling a connection to him in that moment. The night had been long, and neither of us had had much rest.

"Sleep here," Adler said suddenly, his voice calm but with a subtle insistence. "I know Mason is asleep in your room."

His offer hung in the air, and for a moment, I considered it. I was exhausted too, and honestly, I didn't want to be alone. Maybe it was the safety I felt in his presence, or maybe just the exhaustion talking, but the idea of being with him in this moment felt right.

I shyly tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, smiling as I glanced at Adler. "I wouldn't want to infiltrate your space."

He looked at me, his eyes soft and steady, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I want you to, Bell. Come on, you look really tired."

The words were simple, but there was something comforting in the way he said them. And he was right—I did feel exhausted, my body still heavy from the hangover that was slowly wearing off. Woods, Mason, and I were all still reeling from that night, a mistake we'd all made in different ways. But despite the pounding headache and lingering dizziness, part of me couldn't help but think that the night was worth it.

Without saying anything else, I followed Adler's lead, letting myself fall into his offer. Before I knew it, I was lying in his bed, the soft sheets enveloping me. The scent that lingered on them made my heart race—strong musk mixed with pine, unmistakably Adler. It felt comforting, like a sense of belonging I hadn't realized I'd been searching for. It was euphoria in its purest form, and for a brief moment, I felt at peace.

"Goodnight, Bell," Adler said, his voice a soft whisper in the quiet of the room. He smiled, reaching out to gently place his hand on my hair, fingers brushing over the strands. It felt intimate, a touch that sent a flutter of warmth through me.

And then, unexpectedly, he leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. The feeling was electric, a burst of fireworks that exploded in my chest, sending my heart into overdrive. For a second, I was frozen in the softness of the moment, lost in the warmth of his presence.

Russell, seeing the intimate moment, quietly grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed and set up a pillow on the couch across the room. I felt a slight pang of guilt, as though I had somehow kicked him out of his own space. But Adler seemed unfazed, his focus still on me.

Before long, the soft hum of the room—the rustling of blankets, the faint sound of Adler shifting on the couch—lulled me into sleep. It was peaceful, and despite everything, I felt safe. The storm inside me had quieted just enough to let me rest.

As sleep claimed me, I couldn't help but feel that, despite all the questions and the uncertainty, things between Adler and me were already shifting. So much for not wanting to move things forward until I figured out who I was and remembered more about my past. But in that moment, I didn't care. I was here,  with him, and for once, I wasn't thinking about anything else.

------

I woke up later than expected that morning, definitely cutting it close for training, but I was pretty sure everyone was in the same boat. The excitement of being officially signed back on hit me like a wave. There was something thrilling about being part of this again, despite all the uncertainty that had been swirling around me.

Russell wasn't on the couch anymore, so I left Adler's room and made my way to the kitchen. When I entered, I found Park and Sims talking to him, their voices light and casual.

"Morning," I greeted them with a small wave, heading straight to the counter where I immediately started pouring myself a much-needed cup of coffee.

"Good morning," Sims replied, his voice warm. He stood tall beside my shorter frame, looking down at me with a knowing smile. "You ready for today?"

"Totally," I answered, my eyes scanning the coffee cup in my hands. It was almost comforting, the simple ritual of pouring and sipping. "What are we doing?"

I could feel their eyes on me, maybe a little too patiently. It almost felt like they were humouring me, looking at me like I was a child they had to walk through everything. I didn't mind it, but I hated that feeling of being treated as if I had to start over completely, like I had forgotten everything about the job I had once been so familiar with.

Mason eventually found me, though, and it didn't take long before he pulled me aside to go over some of the basics again. The guns. The gear. The little things that slipped away during my time off. I had been rusty, no doubt about it. But when Mason put the sniper rifle back in my hands, I could feel the familiar weight of it, the same comfort I had always known. This was between Mason and I, as far as Russell was concerned, I hadn't been back shooting yet.

Sniping. It had always been my thing. I didn't remember all the details, but the muscle memory was there. The way I lined up the shot, the patience, the focus—it was instinctive, like something buried deep inside me. I could still do it. I might not remember the exact moment of hitting my first target, but that didn't matter. I had skill, something I had always prided myself on. And somehow, despite everything, it still came back to me with a sense of ease.

Back when I was with Stitch, I had felt like I belonged. Now, standing there with the rifle, the fog of memory starting to clear, it was like I was reclaiming a piece of who I used to be.

Helen's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. She was standing on the other side of the lounge, a knowing look on her face. "Mason told us you're good at sniping. Is that true?"

I paused for a moment, considering how to answer. My thoughts were still scattered, but I managed to focus enough to reply.

"Partly. Why?" I asked, taking a slow sip of my coffee and leaning against the bench.

Park, standing next to Helen with her arms crossed, gave me a smirk that tugged at her thin lips. "We need someone like you, I suppose. Might come in handy, love." There was a playfulness in her tone, but also a hint of seriousness beneath it.

I nodded in acknowledgment, but before I could say anything else, I noticed Mason walking down the hallway toward the kitchen. He looked pale, his face drained of color, and dark circles hung beneath his eyes. The exhaustion was obvious. Something had to be weighing on him.

"I'm going to get myself sorted," he muttered, his voice low. "See you all out there."

We all nodded in response, but I couldn't shake the worry that crept up when I saw how badly he looked. I watched him disappear down the hall before turning back to the conversation that was still happening.

Helen and Park continued chatting about Mason—about the numbers, I gathered, but I didn't pay much attention to the details. It seemed like whatever was going on with Mason was deeper than I understood, and it was clear that it was affecting everyone around here.

I wasn't sure how much of it I was ready to deal with yet. I had my own things to figure out, but the tightness in my chest when I looked at Mason told me that whatever was happening with him was something I couldn't just ignore. ⁰¹²⁷⁹

I met Mason at the end of the hall, his pale face lifting to meet mine. He looked completely shattered, as if he'd witnessed something that had torn him apart from the inside out. The usual fire in his eyes was dimmed by exhaustion, and for a brief moment, I felt a pang of sympathy.

"Sorry about last night," he said, his voice hoarse, as he coughed and leaned heavily against the doorframe. "I haven't gotten that bad in so long."

"Don't be," I replied softly, trying to offer some reassurance. "If you find yourself getting bad again..." I paused, turning toward my room. I grabbed the small plastic bottle of tablets and held them out to him. "Take these. I don't need them anymore."

Mason's eyes softened as he took the bottle, and a relieved breath escaped his lips. "Thank you. I really needed them."

As he turned to leave, he noticed Adler standing at the opposite end of the hall, watching us quietly. Mason let out a short laugh, his eyes lighting up with that familiar teasing glint.

"Fuck, he really has a thing for you," he said, a half-smile forming on his lips. "I think he wants you to go talk to him." He tilted his head toward Adler, who was still watching me.

I couldn't help but feel a bit flustered by Mason's comment. I shifted uncomfortably, pinching the bridge of my nose and sighing. "I'll go talk to him."

I knew Adler had been keeping his distance for a reason, but seeing him stand there, so watchful and expectant, gave me a sense of nervous anticipation I couldn't shake. As I walked down the hall toward him, I noticed the faint smile spreading across his face when he saw me.

I smiled back, trying to hide the anxiety building up in my chest.

"You look tired," Adler said with a quiet chuckle, his voice low and laced with concern. "And Mason looks like shit."

I could feel the weight of his words, both teasing and genuine, but there was something comforting in the way he said it. Maybe he was trying to make light of the situation, or maybe he just didn't know what to say, but either way, it felt like a small window of ease in the otherwise tense atmosphere.

"Yeah, I guess we all look a little rough today," I replied, trying to keep things light. "What's up?"

Adler glanced over his shoulder, then back at me, his expression unreadable for a moment. "I just wanted to check in. I know it's a lot going on, but..." He trailed off, looking like he wanted to say more but wasn't sure how to frame it.

It felt like the space between us was charged, filled with unsaid things. But for now, there was something oddly reassuring about his presence. I didn't quite understand everything going on, but Adler's smile—though small—made it feel like maybe I didn't have to. Not yet.

Adler's hand slid to my waist, pulling me in closer to his warmth. For a moment, everything else faded into the background. I felt comfortable, happy, and oddly content with him so close, though the uncertainty of what we were to each other still lingered in my mind. His presence was calming, but I still wasn't sure where things stood between us.

"I guess I didn't mind the company last night," I murmured, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

I could feel Park's eyes on us from across the room. She shot Adler a look when his hand slid to my back, the kind of look that said she was watching closely, maybe even waiting for something to unfold.

Adler seemed unfazed, though, his focus entirely on me. "Go get ready, Bell," he said, his voice warm yet commanding. "I'll wait here while the others leave. Also, tell Mason to take the day off."

Before I could respond, Park and Sims were already heading out the front door, their footsteps fading as they made their way outside.

"I'll be back in a few," I said softly, offering a gentle smile before turning to leave.

But Adler's hand stopped me, his grip tightening just slightly around my wrist. "You sleep so peacefully. God, you're so beautiful," he said, his voice filled with a quiet reverence.

My cheeks burned instantly, and a warmth spread through my body. The compliment caught me off guard, and I found myself speechless for a moment, trying to steady my breath.

"Thank you," I finally managed, my voice soft and unsteady. "I'll only be about ten minutes."

His smile in response said everything. There was something in that expression—something deeper than words could capture. His scars, the ones that ran deep, seemed like they had a story to tell that was meant for me and me alone.

I quickly turned to head to my room, but as I passed by the hallway, I noticed Woods was nowhere to be found. His absence didn't strike me as strange; maybe he had gone out.

I knocked on Mason's door, unsure if he was even awake or if he'd heard me coming. "Not really sure if you're in there, but Adler said take the day off. If you need me, I'll be at the warehouse. Seriously, if you need me, just call."

Mason's voice came steady through the door, though it carried a weariness I could hear clearly. "No problem. Tell Woods, wherever the fuck he is, that I need to talk to him at some point."

"Alright," I said, giving the door one last glance. "Rest up."

As I turned to head back to get ready, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was a lot left unsaid, and somewhere between the exhaustion, the stress, and the silence, Mason was carrying a burden I still didn't fully understand.

I finished getting ready quickly, the excitement beginning to build as I pulled on my clothes and cleaned up. My boots were tied a little too tight, causing my ankles to ache with every step, but I didn't mind. The anticipation was buzzing through me as I threw my jacket over my shoulders and zipped it up, ready for whatever the day would bring.

When I walked back into the living room, Adler was sitting on the couch, cigarette dangling from one hand, a glass of whiskey in the other.

"I'm driving then," I said with a playful roll of my eyes, reaching for the keys that were sitting in the dish by the door.

Adler gave a guilty grin, lifting his glass. "Sorry, I needed a drink."

I shook my head, laughing quietly. "You'll be fine."

I stepped outside and into the car, shutting the door with a soft thud. I rolled down the window, letting the warm summer air flood in. The heat was intense, almost oppressive, but it was a welcome change from the chill I'd been feeling lately.

"Fuck, it is warm," I muttered to myself as I started the car and turned down the dust-covered road that led out of the house. The drive was quiet, my thoughts occupied with everything that had been happening, with Adler, Mason, and the strange undercurrent between all of us. As the miles passed, I felt my nerves settle, the road stretching out ahead of me almost like a sign of clarity.

Suddenly, Adler's hand pressed firmly on my right leg. My breath caught in my throat for a moment, and without thinking, I let my hand slide over his, offering him a small smile. The action felt so natural, like a magnetic pull I couldn't fight.

There was definitely something there. Something building between us that I couldn't ignore. My brain raced as I tried to process the rush of emotions flooding me. Was it just the moment, or was it something more?

We arrived at the warehouse soon after, pulling up to the large building where Sims and Park were already waiting. They stood near the entrance, a few documents in hand, looking focused but relaxed.

"Hey," I greeted them, stepping out of the car, but before I could say more, Park caught my attention.

"I'd like to speak to you first, Bell, if that's alright?" she said, her voice low but firm.

I nodded, feeling a little taken aback but curious about what she wanted to discuss.

Without another word, Park turned and led the way toward a dark room at the back of the warehouse. The moment the door closed behind us, I felt the weight of the conversation settle between us, though I couldn't yet guess what it was about.

What did Park want to talk to me about? And why now?

"Bell, do you remember this?" Park's voice snapped me out of my thoughts as she slid a photo across the table. It was a picture of a statue—nothing too remarkable at first glance. But as my eyes focused, something about it felt familiar, like a long-forgotten memory was trying to claw its way back to the surface.

I shook my head instinctively, unwilling to admit anything, but then I hesitated. Maybe Park could keep a secret. Maybe she could be trusted with whatever this was.

Don't trust her, Bell. You know you shouldn't.

Stitch's voice echoed through my mind, sharp and clear, like loud drums beating in my ears. The warning felt almost physical, like a pressure in my chest, and I couldn't shake the sense of panic creeping up on me. I tried to hide it, but my body betrayed me. A shudder ran through me, and my breath caught for a moment.

Park must have noticed, because she leaned in slightly, her expression softening. "Hey, are you alright, darling?" she asked, her strong English accent making her sound comforting in the midst of the unease swirling inside me.

I managed a small laugh, trying to push down the feeling that was threatening to bubble up. "Just fine," I said, though my voice lacked conviction. "Looking at this... well, it does ring something for me."

Park's eyes held mine, waiting for me to continue. I felt her patience, but at the same time, her curiosity was palpable. "It feels too far away to remember," I added, my words trailing off.

She nodded, her shoulders tensing slightly. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in her eyes—a mix of concern and determination. "That's okay," she said, standing a little taller. "We'll get you there. Sims wants to run a few things by you. Go meet him out front."

I stood to leave, feeling the weight of the conversation lingering. My mind was still swirling with questions, but I knew Park wouldn't give me any answers for now. As I reached the door, Adler stepped into my path, his expression serious.

"Do you remember anything?" he asked, his voice quiet but urgent.

I shook my head, my mind still a fog. "No. Nothing," I replied, my tone a little sharper than I intended.

Adler's eyes softened, and for a brief moment, I could see the worry etched into his features. But I didn't have the energy to talk about it—not now. I wasn't in the right frame of mind, and Mason's well-being was starting to weigh heavily on me. He was becoming a good friend, someone I didn't want to see fall apart.

I gave Adler a tight smile, trying to convey that everything would be okay, even though I wasn't sure of anything myself. Then, I pushed past him and walked outside, the sunlight hitting my face, but it didn't feel as warm as it had before. The weight of everything—Mason, the memory, the secrets—hung in the air around me.

-----

The hours in the warehouse dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity as exhaustion crept in. The others were busy chatting, drinking, and smoking, but I found myself isolated, perched on the hood of the car with a cigarette dangling between my fingers and a glass of vodka in hand. My mind was a tangled mess, a million thoughts swirling, none of them good.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to ease the tension that had settled in my shoulders. "It'll be fine. It'll be fine," I muttered to myself, though the words felt hollow. I took a long drag from the cigarette, the smoke filling my lungs and momentarily pushing the chaos aside.

Just as I was starting to lose myself in the quiet of the night, another car pulled up, the headlights briefly blinding me. I squinted, recognizing Frank as he stepped out of the vehicle.

"Good day. Where did you disappear to?" I asked with a smirk, already making his way over to me.

I chuckled and took one last swig of the vodka, emptying the glass before refilling it. "Needed a break," he said,  as I offered him the glass.

Frank took it eagerly, downing the contents in a few seconds. He coughed immediately after, his face scrunching up in distaste. "Jesus, Bell. That's strong." He joined me on the hood, crossing his legs as he settled next to me, a little more sober now.

"Where'd you go?" I asked, looking over at him. I had a feeling he wasn't here for just a casual visit.

Frank exhaled slowly, his face turning serious. "Went to see if I could find someone to help Mason out." He paused, his eyes distant as he looked out at the horizon. "He can't keep living with these numbers, Bell. It's breaking him."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd known Mason was struggling, but hearing it from Frank—someone who understood the gravity of the situation—made it feel all the more real.

"He's getting worse, isn't he?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Frank didn't answer right away, but his silence spoke volumes. Instead, he gave a subtle nod, his face hardening. "He's not the same, Bell. And it's not something he can just talk through. Those numbers—they don't let him rest. He's drowning in them."

I could feel the weight of his words pressing down on me, the sense of helplessness that always seemed to follow when it came to Mason. He wasn't just struggling with the numbers. It was everything. The fear, the paranoia. And now, it was starting to take its toll on all of us.

I took another sip of my vodka, the burn of alcohol doing little to numb the gnawing worry in my chest. "So, what do we do?" I asked, not sure if I was asking Frank, or more to myself.

Frank turned to me, his expression grim. "We help him. However we can. But you need to be ready, Bell. It's not going to be easy. He's already slipping."

I nodded, the weight of the responsibility settling on my shoulders. I had to help him. I had to be strong for Mason, even if I didn't know how to fix this.

The night stretched out in front of us, uncertain and heavy with the kind of tension that only moments like these could bring. But at least we were in this together—however broken we all might be.¹⁸⁶²⁴

"I know. Those tablets won't hold out long on him, Frank. Something or someone needs to help him." My voice carried the weight of truth, a quiet frustration creeping in. Mason couldn't keep going like this, couldn't keep running from the numbers that haunted him. It was wearing him down, and I could feel it in every interaction with him.

Frank nodded, his gaze lifting to the starry sky above us. For a moment, we sat in silence, letting the stillness of the night settle between us. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, though. It felt more like a shared understanding, a kind of unspoken acknowledgment of everything that was wrong, but also everything that was yet to be done. The stars, hidden behind the clouds, only added to the peacefulness of it, the quiet lull of the night, while the moon broke through, illuminating everything in a soft, silvery light.

"How did today go?" Frank asked, his voice thoughtful, as though he was trying to gauge my mood.

"Okay," I replied with a tired sigh. "I'm exhausted, which didn't help." I reached into my pocket, pulling out the cigarette packet and offering one to Frank. He shook his head, declining with a smile. I lit one for myself instead, the flame from the lighter briefly illuminating my face. "They're in there talking," I continued, "and I'm sure they didn't even notice I left."

I rolled my eyes, taking a drag of the cigarette as the burn of alcohol and smoke mingled in my chest. The weight of everything—the night, Mason's struggles, the decisions we had to make—was starting to feel like too much to carry. It wasn't just about us anymore; it was about keeping Mason from slipping too far. I could see it in his eyes—he was already halfway gone, lost in the chaos of his mind.

Frank's eyes softened as he watched me, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he just leaned back against the car, stretching his legs out, his posture casual but his attention still on me. We sat in silence for a while longer, the only sounds being the occasional rustle of the wind and the faint noise of the others inside the warehouse.

I flicked the ash off my cigarette, taking another deep drag. "I don't know what we're gonna do about him," I murmured. "I'm not sure anyone can get through to him."

Frank didn't reply immediately, but after a moment, he spoke again, his voice steady and calm. "Sometimes, Bell, you don't have to have all the answers. You just need to be there. For him. And for yourself. Sometimes, that's enough."

I let his words sink in, the truth of them slowly unfurling in my mind. Maybe Frank was right. Maybe I didn't need to fix everything. Maybe just being there for Mason, letting him know he wasn't alone in this, was enough.

The night stretched on, quiet and contemplative. The world outside was still, but I could feel the storm brewing inside me—inside all of us. Things were far from okay, but maybe, just maybe, we could find a way through it. Together.

Frank and I talked for a while longer, the conversation flowing more easily now, but the mood was still heavy. It was one of those nights that felt like it might never end, the weight of everything pressing down on us. The others were inside, but soon enough, Sims, Adler, and Park emerged from the warehouse.

"See you guys later," Adler waved, and Park and Sims shouted their goodbyes, their voices carrying in the stillness of the night.

I was a little tipsy, the alcohol starting to loosen my nerves, but my mind was still far from relaxed. Frank noticed the shift in my demeanor and gave me a knowing look before he stood up. "I'm going to check on Mason," he said, giving me a quick, reassuring glance before walking off toward the other building.

Adler walked over to me, pulling a cigarette from his pack, his steps quiet on the gravel. He sat down next to me, his presence drawing me in despite the chaos in my mind. He lit the cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating his face in the darkness.

"Why did you leave?" Adler asked, his voice soft but curious as he looked down at me. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

"Well, if you were aware that I wasn't paying attention to the conversation, you'd know why." I spoke with more force than I intended, the words slipping out, a bit sharper than I meant.

Adler stayed silent for a moment, taking a drag of his cigarette, his eyes flicking from me to the ground. "Bell, what's wrong?" His voice was low, filled with concern. He reached for my hand, his fingers warm as they wrapped around mine, squeezing it tightly.

A sudden rush of emotion hit me, unexpected and raw. I didn't know how to explain the mess of feelings swirling inside me. And then, without warning, a small tear slipped down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away, trying to hide it, but Adler's eyes were on me, and he didn't let me push it down.

Before I could say anything, he gently brushed the tear away with his thumb. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His touch was comforting, and I couldn't help but lean into it.

The vulnerability I was feeling was something I wasn't used to, but Adler's presence, his steady hand in mine, made it feel just a little easier to breathe. I couldn't find the words to explain, not just yet. But with him beside me, it almost didn't matter.

"It's frustrating, you know?" I muttered, my voice cracking slightly as I spoke. "Not being able to remember... and having a fucked up mind. Plus, I'm worried about Mason. The guy's a mess, and I have no idea what to do. Frank and I seem to be the only ones who give a shit about him."

The words left me in a rush, and I tried to steady my breathing, hoping I could keep the tears at bay. I didn't want to break down in front of Adler, especially not when he was already being so calm, so understanding. But the weight of everything—my fragmented memories, Mason's spiraling state, and this strange tension in the air—was more than I could carry on my own.

Adler didn't hesitate. His hand gently cupped the side of my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he met my gaze. "I will get help for Mason. Okay? Give me time in the morning, and I'll make sure someone comes to help." His voice was steady, calm, but there was a tenderness there, a promise that I clung to.

I nodded, trying to find some comfort in his words, but the tears were still there, threatening to fall. "Don't cry," he murmured softly, his thumb still stroking my cheek. "I'm here."

Before I knew what was happening, he leaned in, and the distance between us closed. It was instinctive—my lips met his before I even fully realized what I was doing. The taste of vodka and cigarettes lingered between us, a sharp reminder of the tension in the air, but in that moment, I couldn't care less. All that mattered was the way his mouth fit against mine, the warmth of his hands on my waist, his other hand tangling in my hair.

"Adler," I breathed, pulling away slightly, my voice shaky.

His lips parted from mine, and with a sudden, almost desperate motion, he pulled me closer. I found myself in his arms, the familiar scent of him enveloping me, grounding me in a way nothing else had. Under the stars, everything else seemed to fade away—the mess, the questions, the fear.

His arms around me were enough. I could hear the steady rhythm of his breath and feel the beat of his heart beneath my fingertips. The world seemed to stand still for a moment, the skyline stretching out before us, the lights from the bars and hotels blurring into the night sky. The yellow and white lights painted a scene that was both surreal and beautiful, something I wanted to hold onto forever.

And in that quiet, perfect moment, I didn't want it to end.

Was this finally confirmation of something between us? Or was it just another fleeting moment of solace in the middle of chaos? I didn't know, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe things could be okay—at least for tonight.