The wind tugged at my hair as I sat there, the chill in the air cutting through my jacket and making me feel like I was being slowly stripped away, piece by piece. The morning was endless, each minute stretching longer than the last. The solitude wrapped around me, filling the space where the noise of others had once been. There were no voices, no distractions, just the rhythmic hum of the wind and the occasional rustle of leaves.

I thought back to everything that had happened since I arrived here. It all felt like a blur, fragmented pieces of a puzzle I couldn't quite fit together.

Adler... God, how quickly I'd fallen for him. It was like everything about him pulled me in—the way he looked at me, the way he carried himself with this quiet confidence that made me feel safe. But there was something darker underneath, something I couldn't shake, no matter how much I wanted to. It was like a storm was brewing behind his eyes, and I couldn't quite tell if it was for me or against me.

Mason and Woods—they were different. Safe. I trusted them, and in this place, where trust was a commodity I could never seem to hold onto, that meant something. With Mason, it felt like there was nothing to hide. With Woods, there was this quiet steadiness, like I could rest in the knowledge that if anything went wrong, he'd be there. They were both like anchors in a sea of uncertainty.

But then there was Park.

I couldn't put my finger on it. She was always friendly, always smiling, always asking if I needed anything. But something about her didn't sit right with me. Maybe it was just paranoia—maybe I was reading too much into her kindness. But I couldn't ignore that nagging feeling that lingered whenever she was near. It wasn't her actions, but more the way she always seemed to be watching, like there was something behind those gentle eyes that she wasn't letting slip. I hated feeling this way, like I was looking for shadows in every corner, but I couldn't help it.

My head was a mess, a constant spinning of half-formed thoughts and unanswered questions. Missing pieces. There were so many missing pieces. Why did it all feel like something was just out of reach, like the truth was right in front of me but I couldn't see it clearly? I rubbed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, the pressure there only making the headache worse.

"Get it together, Bell," I muttered under my breath.

But even as I said it, I knew it wasn't that easy. Because every time I thought I had a handle on things, another piece of the puzzle would fall out of place, and I'd be left spinning, trying to catch up.

The morning air was sharp, the kind that cut right through your skin and made you want to pull your collar up and huddle into yourself. I hadn't realized how much I missed the stillness of the early hours, the world so quiet before the chaos of the day began. It felt like everything was on pause, the city still asleep, letting the colors of dawn stretch across the sky in perfect tranquility.

The sound of the door creaking open broke my solitude, and I glanced over to see Frank standing there, his figure silhouetted against the dim light of the early morning. He looked dishevelled, his hair sticking up in all directions, his expression tired but familiar. Frank didn't have the calmness of Mason or the intensity of Woods, but there was something about him that made you feel grounded, even when everything else seemed off-kilter.

"Morning, Kiddo. It's bloody freezing out here," Frank muttered, pulling his jacket around him with a tight grip. He looked like he hadn't fully woken up yet, the bags under his eyes a clear sign he'd gotten hardly any rest.

"I know," I replied, glancing back at the horizon. "Needed air. Couldn't sleep too well."

Frank didn't say anything for a moment. Instead, he stood next to me, his breath visible in the cold air. He glanced at the view, the skyline bathed in soft yellows and oranges as the city started to stir below us. It was a peaceful moment, one that I hadn't expected to share, but I found myself appreciating it more than I would've thought. There was something about the quiet between us, the shared silence that didn't need to be filled with words.

The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm glow over everything. The city felt small from here, peaceful in a way that felt fragile—like a breath held in the chest before being let out. I smiled to myself, my gaze still locked on the horizon. It was a rare moment, one I knew I needed to hold onto.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Frank's voice broke the silence, his tone softer than I expected.

I nodded. "Yeah. It's... peaceful."

Frank stood next to me for a few moments longer, both of us watching the city wake up from the quiet of the porch. There was an unspoken understanding between us in that silence. We didn't need to say much, and yet it felt like we were both absorbing the same thing—the stillness, the calm, the way the world could feel almost untouched, even if only for a few minutes.

Then, with a soft sigh, Frank broke the moment. "Guess I'm not the only one who gets up early."

I chuckled softly. "Guess not."

He leaned against the railing, rubbing his face with his hands, trying to shake off the sleep still clinging to him. "So, what's on your mind? You don't come out here unless something's eating at you."

I didn't answer right away. What could I say? That I was tangled in a mess of thoughts, half-formed memories, and too many things I couldn't explain? That the fear of what was coming next was gnawing at me from the inside out? Instead, I simply shrugged.

"Just thinking about stuff," I finally said, my voice quiet. "You know. Everything."

Frank nodded knowingly, like he didn't need more than that. He'd always had a way of reading between the lines, sensing when things were off without needing all the details. And maybe, just maybe, that was all I needed right now. To just be here, in this moment, where things felt as simple as watching the sun rise over the city.

We stood in silence for a while longer, the world around us waking up slowly. It was a strange comfort, knowing that even in the midst of everything else, there were still moments like this—quiet, unexpected, and shared.

Frank lowered himself onto the seat next to me, crossing his legs casually. His usual energy was missing, and he seemed unusually quiet these past few days—something that didn't quite sit right with me. Frank was never the type to stay silent for long.

"So, you and Adler... Is it a thing, or what?" he asked, his voice playful but with an edge of curiosity.

I rolled my eyes and let out an exaggerated groan. "Are you seriously asking me this now?"

Frank chuckled, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing me. "I just want to know, Bell. I mean, the way you two look at each other... It's like you're both undressing each other with your eyes. It's kinda obvious."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to push away the headache that was forming. The cold air puffed from my mouth in a cloud of steam as I exhaled slowly. The situation with Adler was complicated, and to be honest, it was making me more than a little crazy. I couldn't get his words out of my head—"One step at a time." They repeated over and over, a constant reminder of how conflicted I felt.

"I don't know, Frank. I guess there's something there, but I don't know what it is," I finally admitted, my voice laced with uncertainty. "There are feelings, sure, but I feel like I'm lying to him. Straight to his face." I let my gaze drift to the horizon, watching as the cold air slipped away in wisps. Honestly, the last person I wanted to see before everything was over was Adler. The idea of him finding out how confused I really was, how much I was hiding—it made me feel like a fraud.

"I've told you and Mason everything I can remember," I continued, my voice dropping to a softer tone, as if speaking louder would somehow make it real. "But Adler... with him? I've told him nothing."

Frank nodded, his face serious but understanding. He didn't need any more explanation. He knew the weight of what I was saying—how much guilt I was carrying with me. I needed to get all of this off my chest, needed to say it out loud before it ate me alive.

"I'm not lying to him completely," I went on, my voice tight with emotion, "I just... I haven't told him the truth. I haven't told him that I remember some of it. And I don't know if I can. I don't know if he'll even want to know."

Frank stayed quiet for a moment, allowing me to finish, then let out a long, heavy sigh. His silence felt like a conversation in itself—sometimes, all we needed was someone to simply listen, without judgment, without interruption.

He scratched at his scruffy beard and gave me a small smile. "Look, Adler's a good guy. He always has been, from the moment Mason and I first crossed paths with him. I'll be real with you though—Mason doesn't trust easily. He's picky, and Adler... well, Adler's not the most trustworthy guy around. But in the end, it's up to you whether you wanna come clean to him," Frank said, his voice steady but thoughtful.

I nodded, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me, and sighed, overwhelmed by the situation. Every direction felt like it was leading me into deeper waters.

Frank stood up slowly and moved toward the front door, pausing to glance back at me. "Just be smart about it, Bell. Think it through. And hey, do you wanna come inside?" he asked, offering me an out, a moment to breathe and take my mind off things.

I shook my head softly. "I'll be in in a few minutes, Frank. Thanks," I replied, giving him a small, tired smile.

He gave me a knowing look and a wink. "Anytime, kiddo," he said before stepping inside, leaving me to process everything he'd said.

-----

It had been nearly an hour since Frank had left, and the entire house was still quiet, everyone deep in their sleep. I'd stepped back inside from being outside, my mind swirling with the conversation I had with Frank. At some point, I decided to check on Adler, to see if he was awake or if he'd gotten up. But when I approached his room, I found the door slightly ajar. I thought about knocking, but curiosity won out, and I peeked my head around the corner.

What I saw made me freeze for a moment. Adler was asleep, or at least I thought he was. His bare torso was visible in the dim light, the faint outline of his scars standing out against the darkness. It was quiet, save for the soft rhythm of his breath. I didn't want to disturb him, but then he groaned, half-awake, and patted the side of the bed.

"Come over, now?" he murmured, his voice a mix of sleep and warmth.

I couldn't help but smile at the simplicity of his request. I kicked off my shoes and made my way over to him, sliding into the bed beside him. As soon as I settled in, I could feel the heat radiating from his body, and it was like everything around me softened. His warmth, his presence—everything just felt right. His scent filled the air, wrapping around me like a cocoon. His arm slipped around my waist as his lips gently brushed my shoulder.

"You're perfect, Bell. Get some rest," he whispered, his voice low and soothing.

The words were like a balm to my restless mind. I let out a quiet sigh, sinking into the comfort of his embrace. Adler's warmth was all I needed, and soon enough, the steady rhythm of his breath had me drifting off. His arms remained around me, and his face stayed nestled in the crook of my neck. The feeling of his body against mine sent a rush through me—like fireworks were exploding in my chest.

When I woke up, the soft pressure of his fingers tracing lazy circles on my arm stirred me from my sleep.

"Good morning," Adler's voice was a rasp, soft and endearing, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Morning, Ad. What time is it?" I mumbled, rolling over and resting my head on his chest. I couldn't bring myself to move away from him just yet. The pull of his warmth was too strong.

"Ten-thirty. No rush, we're off. Mason's getting breakfast," he answered, his voice still thick with sleep.

I nodded, feeling a sense of calm in the moment. I wrapped my arms around his waist, the smoothness of his skin feeling almost too perfect to be real.

"Bell, I think we should talk," Adler said, his voice laced with a tone that instantly made my stomach drop. It was a tone I wasn't used to hearing from him—serious, almost worried—and it threw me off balance a little.

"Of course," I replied, sitting up and gently pulling away from him. My heart beat a little faster as I shifted, the unease creeping in. "What's wrong?"

He sighed, his eyes searching mine, as if trying to find the right words. "Are you feeling what I'm feeling? Because... I don't feel this way about people. Not like this. Especially not when it comes to, well, this."

I sat up straighter, crossing my legs as I leaned forward slightly. His words stung, but I understood where he was coming from. "I think I feel the same way," I said, my voice softer now, tinged with the same uncertainty he was showing. "I know you don't let people in, Ad. You've always kept your distance. I've learned that about you—that coldness, that wall you put up."

Adler's expression shifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. But instead of pulling away, he nodded slowly, accepting the truth in my words. "But sometimes," I continued, my voice quieter now, "sometimes love is what we need. Even when we don't want to admit it. Even when it scares us."

The words hung in the air between us, thick with meaning, and Adler's gaze softened. He reached up slowly, his hand cupping my cheek gently, his touch warm and reassuring. There was a softness in his eyes I hadn't seen before—vulnerable, like he was letting down some of the barriers he'd built around himself.

Then, without a word, he leaned in. His lips brushed against mine in a kiss that felt like the perfect answer to everything unsaid. His kiss was tender, but there was a depth to it, an unspoken promise that everything would be okay. I kissed him back, my heart swelling as I smiled against his lips. In that moment, everything felt right—like we'd both finally found the thing we needed, even if we didn't fully understand it yet.

"Breakfast!" Mason shouted from the front door, pulling me and Adler apart with the sudden interruption. I pulled away from Adler, blinking in mild surprise, but the warmth between us lingered.

Adler grinned, clearly unfazed by the disruption. "Let's go. I'm starving." With that, he threw the messy sheets off the bed and slid into a shirt, looking effortlessly casual.

I chuckled softly and followed him out of the room, the sounds of laughter and clattering dishes reaching us as we entered the kitchen. Mason and Frank were already there, setting out a spread of food, their voices filled with light-hearted chatter.

Mason turned to me with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Bell, can we go out tonight?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and flashing me that knowing grin.

I could tell by the look on his face that he had something up his sleeve. "Of course," I replied, grabbing a plate from the pale counter and taking a seat. The moment I began digging in, my stomach growling in hunger, I could hear Mason's chuckle from across the table.

"I need a drink anyway," he added with a shrug. "A bottle of whiskey's been sitting in my room for days, and I'm starting to feel like I need it." His words made everyone laugh, and the easy camaraderie in the room was contagious.

Breakfast went by quickly. Plates were cleared, coffee cups emptied, and everyone started to drift toward the next thing on their minds. I lingered a bit longer, savoring the last sips of my coffee, before heading back to my room to get dressed.

I rummaged through my clothes and grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt, slipping into them quickly. As I pulled the shirt over my head, my gaze fell on the scar from the knife wound that still marred my side. The faint ridge of the scar tugged at my attention, the memory of the pain that came with it surfacing for a brief moment.

I touched it lightly, my fingers tracing the edges of the scar, feeling the roughness of it beneath my skin. It was a reminder—of the danger we'd been through, of how fragile everything could be. But it was also a reminder of how far I'd come, how much I'd survived.

The scar would always be there, a part of me, but it didn't define me. I wasn't going to let it.

"Fucker still hurts," I muttered under my breath, my fingertips gently tracing the scar on my side. The small bump was still there, like a permanent reminder of the pain I'd gone through. I could see the entry point of the knife, and the scar on my back where it had exited. It wasn't pretty, not by a long shot—it looked ugly to me, a constant mark on my skin that I couldn't forget.

The skin around the scar was still bruised, the deep blue and purple blending into my flesh in uneven patterns. It was a reminder of the violence, of how fragile things had felt in that moment. Sometimes, it still hurt when I moved the wrong way, but over time, I'd learned to live with the dull ache. It never bothered me too much; it was just another part of my reality now. I pulled my shirt down, trying to ignore the discomfort, when suddenly, there was a sharp knock at the door.

The door creaked open, and Mason walked in, his expression unreadable. He shut the door behind him with a quiet click, the tension in his body obvious. He wasn't acting like himself, and I could tell something was off.

He held a black folder in his hands, the edges worn and creased, as though he'd been carrying it around for a while. He dropped onto the bed beside me and set the folder down, the weight of it suddenly making the room feel heavier.

"Frank dug this up," Mason said, his voice low. "I have no fucking idea how, but you're gonna want to look at this."

My brow furrowed in confusion. "What is this, Mason?" I asked lightly, though there was a sinking feeling in my chest. I sat up beside him, the unease growing as I reached for the folder.

Mason didn't look at me as I opened it. He was staring ahead, the tension still tight in his shoulders. "Your name," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "And where you came from."

I froze for a moment, the words hitting me harder than I expected. My name. Where I came from. The questions that had been haunting me for as long as I could remember—the ones I had been avoiding, the ones I didn't want the answers to. They were all inside that damn folder. I could feel the weight of it, the gravity of what was about to unfold.

---