Liv

Two days later

Brighton wasn't where I thought I'd end up.

But here I am.

The sea breeze cuts through my thin jacket as I huddle against the back of a bench on the promenade. It's colder than I expected tonight. The smell of salt lingers in the air, mingling with the faint scent of fish and chips from the nearby shops that closed hours ago. The waves crash rhythmically in the distance, a soundtrack to my loneliness.

I pull my knees closer to my chest, trying to make myself small. My stomach growls, a sharp reminder of the meal I didn't have today. Or yesterday. But hunger is easier to ignore than the ache in my chest.

It's been days since I left.

Days of running, hiding, and avoiding anyone who might recognize me.

I thought Brighton would be big enough to disappear.

Anonymous.

Safe.

But as I sit here, watching the occasional drunk wander past or a couple hurrying home, I realize how foolish that was. I can feel the world closing in on me.

I shift, glancing down the street, and my breath catches.

A man is standing there, leaning casually against a lamppost. His dark coat billows slightly in the wind, and even from this distance, I can feel his eyes on me.

*No.*

I scramble to my feet, my heart racing. My mind tells me to run, but my legs feel like they're glued to the ground.

As he steps closer, the soft glow of the streetlight illuminates his face, and my stomach twists.

Adrian.

Of all the people to find me, why did it have to be him?

"Liv," he says, his voice smooth and calm, as if we're old friends meeting by chance. "Fancy seeing you here."

I back up a step, my heart pounding so loud I swear he can hear it. "What do you want?"

He raises his hands, palms out, like he's trying to calm a skittish animal. "Relax. I'm not here to hurt you."

His words are a lie—I can see it in his eyes. There's something cold and calculating behind them.

"How did you find me?" I demand, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to sound strong.

Adrian smirks, taking another step closer. "You didn't think you could just vanish, did you? People are looking for you, Liv. Your dad, for one. And then there's... well, let's just say not everyone's intentions are as noble."

I swallow hard, my throat dry. "Stay away from me."

"Relax," he says again, as if that's possible. "I'm not here to drag you back kicking and screaming. Yet."

The threat is subtle, but it's there, hanging in the air between us.

"I'm fine on my own," I say, stepping back again. My foot hits the edge of the bench, and I stumble slightly, but I catch myself. "I don't need your help."

Adrian tilts his head, studying me like I'm some kind of puzzle he's trying to solve. "Fine?

Sleeping on a bench? Starving yourself? Yeah, you look like you've got it all figured out."

"Go to hell," I snap, my voice sharper than I intended.

Adrian chuckles, but there's no warmth in it. He steps even closer, and I can feel the weight of his presence now, suffocating.

"You don't get it, do you?" he says, his voice dropping lower. "You're not just some runaway kid. You're leverage. A piece on the board in a game much bigger than you. And right now, the wrong people are very interested in finding you."

"Then why are you here?" I whisper, fear creeping into my voice despite my efforts to stay defiant.

Adrian's smirk fades, and for a moment, there's something almost like pity in his eyes. Almost. "I'm here because your dad is running out of time, Liv. And if he doesn't get his act together, well..." He trails off, shrugging like it's no big deal.

I shake my head, trying to make sense of his words. "What are you talking about?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Adrian says, his tone casual, but his eyes are sharp, watching me carefully. "But here's some advice—don't make this harder on yourself. You're not safe out here, Liv. Not from them. Not from me."

I take a shaky breath, my fists clenching at my sides. "I don't care about your games. I'm not going back."

Adrian sighs, almost like he's disappointed. "Suit yourself. But just remember—I found you once. And I'll find you again. Next time, it might not be so friendly."

With that, he turns and walks away, disappearing into the night as easily as he appeared.

I sink back onto the bench, my legs trembling beneath me. The sound of the waves crashes around me, but it feels distant now.

All I can hear are Adrian's words, echoing in my mind.

*You're leverage. You're not safe.*

I don't know what's coming, but I know one thing for sure—I need to keep running.

And get as far away from home as possible.

Jonathan

The same day

The lights are blinding, hotter than anything I've ever endured on a film set. The cameras flash incessantly, capturing my every twitch and frown. I've faced countless press junkets, walked through seas of reporters at premieres, but this feels different. This is raw. It's personal.

This isn't Jonathan Henley, the actor standing at this podium.

This is Jonathan Henley, the man who failed his daughter.

Liv's picture looms beside me—her smile frozen in time, wide and carefree. It mocks me. The memory of her laughter twists in my chest like a knife. She always smiled like that around me, like I was the cool "uncle" who could do no wrong.

The irony isn't lost on me.

If only she'd known.

I grip the edges of the podium, grounding myself. My knuckles are white, my jaw tight. The room is electric with whispers and the clicking of cameras. Somewhere, a producer gives me the nod to start. My throat is dry, and I have to clear it before I can speak.

"Good afternoon," I begin, my voice lower, rougher than I want it to be. "My name is Jonathan Henley, and I'm here today as Olivia Reynolds. Liv is my niece—or, well, that's what she always believed. She's been missing for four days."

The words taste like ash.

Four days of not knowing if she's safe. Four days of wondering where I went wrong.

I glance at her photo again, her bright eyes staring back at me, and I'm transported back to the first time I met her. She was four years old, sitting on  Alice's lap, clutching a stuffed rabbit so tightly it looked like its seams might burst.

"Liv, this is your Uncle Jon," Alice had said, smiling.

Liv had tilted her head, studying me with those big, curious eyes. "Are you famous?"

I'd laughed, kneeling to her level. "Not to you, I hope."

From then on, she called me her "cool uncle." I taught her how to ride a bike, showed up to her school plays, and once even helped her sneak out for ice cream past bedtime. She thought I was the fun one. The good one.

If only she knew the truth.

"She's only eighteen," I say, the crack in my voice betraying me. "She's smart, funny, stubborn as hell..." My voice falters. "And she deserves to come home."

The words feel hollow, inadequate. Because deep down, I know.

She isn't just my niece.

She's my daughter.

And I failed her.

The weight of that secret presses down on me now. I'd promised Alice I'd look after her, keep her safe, be the father she deserved. But I'd kept my distance instead, hiding behind the title of "uncle" to shield myself from the responsibility, from the truth.

And now she's gone.

"She didn't just disappear," I say, my tone harder now. Anger bubbles under the surface, sharp and hot. "Someone, somewhere, knows something. If you're watching this, and you have any information—anything—you must come forward. Olivia deserves better than this."

I blink against the lights, but another image sears itself into my mind: Dante's sneer, his face twisted with malice.

*"She's gone, Henley. You'll never see her again."*

The memory is vivid, fresh. The cold weight of the gun in my hand, the fury coursing through me as his words landed like punches.

He'd known.

He'd known something about Liv, and he'd taunted me with it.

The shot had rung out before I'd even realized I'd pulled the trigger. Blood splattered across the concrete floor of the warehouse, pooling beneath Dante's crumpled body.

I told myself it was justified. But now, as I stand here, addressing the nation, I wonder if that moment of rage cost me more than I bargained for.

"I... I just want her to know she's not alone," I say, my voice barely above a whisper now. "Liv, if you're watching this... I'm sorry. I should have done better. I should have been better," I paused as a tear ran down my cheek. "I know that maybe I haven't been the father you deserve,

The room is silent, save for the occasional shuffle of reporters. My sister Chloe steps forward, sensing that I can't continue. She takes over with her characteristic poise, speaking on behalf of the family.

Grace Baxter, who flew in from the States, stands beside me, her hand a reassuring weight on my shoulder. But even her presence feels distant.

The press conference ends, and we're ushered into a private room. Chloe looks at me, her expression full of worry.

"Jon," she says softly, "you did your best."

Did I?

The words echo in my head as I step outside into the cold London evening. The air bites at my skin, but it doesn't shake the heaviness in my chest.

I scroll through my phone, looking at pictures of Liv. There's one of her at seven, laughing as she sat on my shoulders during a carnival. Another of her at twelve, proudly showing off a clay sculpture she'd made. And the last one—just a few months ago—her grinning as we shared coffee in a cozy corner café.

I should've told her then. Should've told her the truth about who I really was, how much she meant to me. But I didn't.

Now, all I have are these memories and the gnawing fear that I've lost her forever.

Dante's words echo in my mind, taunting me. *"She's gone."*

But he was wrong.

I'll tear apart every corner of this city if I have to.

Because Liv isn't just my niece.

She's my daughter.

My redemption.

And I'll die before I let her slip away.

Steve

Later that same afternoon

The wind bites today, sharp and relentless. It cuts through my jacket, straight to my bones, but I keep walking. One foot in front of the other, like always. The graveyard is quiet, too quiet, and it feels like I'm the only one left in this hollow place. The sound of the wind and the occasional rustling of leaves are the only things that break the stillness.

I find my way to her. Alice. Her grave.

It's hard to breathe as I stand before it, my chest tight with a heaviness that's grown over the years. I glance up at the towering marble angel that marks her resting place. Grey, smooth stone, cold to the touch. The angel's wings are spread wide, carved with intricate detail, like it might take flight at any moment. Her eyes, chiseled with perfection, seem to watch over me—silent, judging. In a way, they always have.

Alice Ophelia Reynolds (nee Havisham)

Born: 4th May 1984

Died: 2nd January 2024

Beloved mother, wife, sister and friend

I kneel in front of the grave, feeling the cold earth through my jeans. My hands are trembling as I place them on the marble base. "I should've protected you, Alice," I whisper, my voice cracking as the tears start to well up. "I should've been there."

I blink back the sting, but it doesn't stop. The weight of the years presses on me, each one harder than the last. She's been gone too long, and yet the pain hasn't dulled. It never will. The day she was taken from me shattered everything.

And now... Liv.

I close my eyes, the guilt suffocating me. I promised Alice I'd look after Liv, promised I'd take care of everything. And now, the girl I should've been protecting is out there, lost. I don't know where she is. I don't know if she's safe.

My breath comes out shaky, the air cold in my lungs. *I failed her*, I think. *I failed both of you.*

I think of Liv—her smile, her laughter, the way she used to run to me when she was small, her arms outstretched. But now, it feels like I'm so far from her. She's somewhere, and I can't reach her. I can't fix this.

I press my fingers into the cool surface of the angel, wishing it could somehow take away this agony. The stone is cold, but not as cold as I feel inside. The emptiness is unbearable.

"I'm so sorry, Alice," I murmur. "I promised I'd protect her. I promised..."

But I couldn't. I couldn't keep my promise to either of them. Not to Alice when she was taken too soon, and not to Liv now, as she's lost in a world that's far too dangerous for her. I should've been stronger. I should've seen this coming.

I lean my forehead against the marble, trying to find some kind of comfort in the weight of it, but all I feel is regret. Regret for not being enough. Regret for not being the father Liv needed, not being the husband Alice deserved.

The wind picks up again, howling through the trees, but I can barely hear it. It's all drowned out by the noise in my head—the ache, the guilt, the panic.

"Liv... please be okay," I whisper, my voice hoarse with the fear I can't push down.

The weight of it settles in my chest, heavy and suffocating. How could I let this happen? I promised I'd protect her. I promised I wouldn't let the same thing happen to Liv that happened to Alice. But here I am, kneeling before this marble angel, powerless to do anything.

"I failed you both," I whisper again, my voice small, a broken thing.

I want to fix this. I want to make it right. But all I can do is sit here, in front of the woman I lost, and the daughter I might lose, too.

The tears come harder now, and I can't stop them. The cold doesn't matter. Nothing matters except this crushing, impossible weight of knowing I failed them both.

And knowing Liv may never come home.

Jonathan

Later that evening

I'm sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the half-empty glass of whiskey in front of me. My mind's foggy from too many sleepless nights, too many drinks, but even through the haze, the mess I'm in is crystal clear. My sister, Chloe, sits across from me, her eyes dark and tired, watching me like she's waiting for me to break.

I don't break.

I just keep going.

"Jonathan," she says, her voice strained, but soft. "This has to stop. I can't keep watching you spiral like this. You're in way too deep. The gangs, everything... it's too much. It's dangerous."

I push the glass aside, the weight of her words heavier than I want to admit. "You think I don't know that?" I mutter, staring down at my hands, those same hands that have done things—horrible things. The blood on them is mine, and it's on Dante's too.

Chloe leans forward, her voice quieter now, almost pleading. "Then why, Jonathan? Why did you kill him?"

I close my eyes. The image of Dante, his arrogant smirk, and the look of disbelief in his eyes as the bullet tore through him—it's still so vivid, too fresh. I didn't even think. Didn't give a damn. He was a threat to Liv, to everything I've been trying to keep safe.

But now?

Now, I'm a target.

I slam my fist onto the table. "Because I had to. He was going to kill me, Chloe. Or worse. You know what it's like. You know what they're capable of. Dante was a liability. He had to go."

Chloe exhales, a shaky breath, her eyes haunted. "But this... this doesn't stop with him, does it? They'll come for you. And if they come for you, they come for Liv."

The words hang in the air, choking me. Liv. I promised her I'd keep her safe. I promised her mother before she died that I would protect her, no matter what. But I can barely protect myself, let alone her.

Suddenly, a crash cuts through the tense air, shattering the fragile silence. It's coming from the front door. My heart leaps into my throat.

Someone's here.

Before Chloe can react, I'm on my feet, moving with a speed I didn't know I still had in me. I rush to the door, my hand gripping the handle. My instincts scream at me. I know this is no ordinary visit. This is them. Damon. Callum. Connor. They've come for me.

I wrench the door open just as a masked figure lunges toward me. I barely have time to react. My body moves on its own, a mix of fear and rage.

I grab the intruder by the throat, slamming him against the wall, the force of it shaking the entire hallway. His mask cracks against the drywall with a sickening thud, but I don't care. I'm not thinking anymore. Just acting.

"Who the hell are you?" I growl, the words barely leaving my throat.

The intruder gasps, his eyes wide with panic. He tries to pull a gun, but I twist his wrist, sending it flying across the floor with a sharp crack. His breath hitches, and I don't stop. I hit him, hard. Again and again, the sound of fists meeting flesh ringing in the air.

Chloe's scream comes too late. She's shouting my name, trying to get me to stop, but the rage has taken hold of me. It's Dante all over again. I see his face in the intruder's. I hear his words, his threats, and I'm drowning in the violence of it all.

I don't know how long it's been, but when I finally stop, I'm panting, my hands slick with sweat and blood. The man is unconscious, slumped against the wall, his body barely hanging onto life. I stand over him, chest heaving. My mind is still spinning.

Chloe is behind me now, her voice shaking. "Jonathan... we need to get out of here. You're not safe. They'll keep coming for you."

I turn to look at her, the cold reality of it sinking in. She's right. It's over. It's too late to run. They'll come again, and they'll keep coming until I'm either dead or I destroy them first.

I look down at the man I've just beaten, then back to Chloe. "I can't protect her. I can't protect anyone anymore."

The guilt hits me like a freight train. I failed Liv. I promised I would protect her. But now, I've dragged her into this, into the chaos I've created.

I turn toward the front door, my mind racing. There's no way out of this. There never was.

"We don't have much time," I mutter, my voice barely a whisper.

I know what's coming. And I don't know if I'm strong enough to face it.

But I have to.

For her.

I turn back to Chloe, my eyes hardening with resolve. "We're leaving. Now."

Liv

Later that evening

I've been running for so long, I can barely feel my feet hitting the pavement anymore. Every corner I turn, I keep expecting to see someone—anyone—who might be looking for me. But it's Adrian again, his footsteps steady behind me, always a little too close.

I know he's following me. It's not just a coincidence. He's been here in Brighton, lingering. And I'm terrified. Every instinct in me tells me to keep running, to not let anyone get close. But Adrian doesn't look like the others. He doesn't look like a threat. But I can't be sure. Not anymore.

My body is shaking, exhaustion creeping in. I feel my breath coming in short, panicked bursts as I turn a corner, hoping to lose him. But just when I think I've escaped, I feel a hand on my shoulder, gentle but firm.

"Liv." His voice is soft, almost like he's coaxing a scared animal. "Stop."

I freeze, too terrified to move, my heart hammering in my chest. I turn slowly, face to face with Adrian again. His dark eyes are full of concern, no trace of malice in them.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says, and I can hear the sincerity in his voice. "You don't need to keep running. You don't have to be alone. Please."

I step back instinctively, but he doesn't force himself on me. He's holding his ground, not making any sudden moves. Just standing there, looking at me like he's waiting for me to make up my mind.

"I—I can't," I stammer, my voice cracking. "You don't know what they'll do. I can't trust anyone."

Adrian looks at me for a long moment, his gaze steady. "I'm not like them," he says quietly. "I know you're scared. But I want to help. You don't have to do this by yourself."

I swallow hard. The thought of letting someone in, of trusting anyone again, feels like a betrayal. But there's something in his eyes that makes me pause. Something almost... kind.

"You don't get it," I whisper, shaking my head. "I don't have anywhere to go. They're out there, watching, waiting for me to slip up."

His face softens, and he steps closer, but not too close. "I know a place. A safe place. I can take you there. No one will find you."

I hesitate, a million thoughts racing through my mind. But my legs are tired, my body sore from running, and I can feel myself starting to break. I don't want to trust him, but I don't have a choice anymore.

I nod, just barely. "Okay."

His face lights up, a small, comforting smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You won't regret it, I promise."

He takes a step back, giving me space, and I follow him. The streets blur around me as we walk in silence. I keep glancing over my shoulder, checking to make sure no one's watching us, but Adrian is quiet beside me, calm and steady.

Finally, we reach a building—a quiet apartment block tucked away on a side street, far from the bustle of the city. He leads me inside, up a flight of stairs, and into his apartment. It's small, but cozy, with soft lighting and the faint smell of coffee in the air.

Adrian gestures to the couch. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll get you something to drink."

I sit down, my mind still racing, but the tension in my body slowly starts to ease. He's not forcing me to do anything. Not yet, at least. But I'm still not sure if I can trust him.

I look around the room, my eyes landing on the TV in the corner. It's on, muted, but there's something about the flickering image that catches my attention. I glance at it—at my face.

The screen flashes with the words: "BREAKING NEWS: Missing Teenager Liv Reynolds, Father Steve Reynolds and family appeal for help." My heart stops in my chest as the reporter's voice comes through, confirming what I've feared: the search for me is nationwide.

I immediately stand, my stomach churning with panic.

There's no escaping it now.

"Liv?" Adrian calls from the kitchen, but I can barely hear him over the roar in my ears. My name. Everywhere. I can't hide anymore.

I look back at the screen and see my face—the same one I barely recognize anymore. I'm just a girl who's disappeared, a mystery to the world. A puzzle they'll never solve.

I move to the TV, almost in a daze, and quickly grab the remote. My hand shakes as I press the button, the screen going black with a soft click.

Adrian walks back into the room, his expression soft, but he can see the fear in my eyes.

"I—I can't do this," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I can't stay here."

He doesn't argue. Instead, he walks over to me and gently places a hand on my shoulder, his voice low. "You're safe here, Liv. You don't have to be scared. No one knows where you are. I won't let anything happen to you."

I look up at him, my tears threatening to spill. "I just want to go home."

Adrian nods, his eyes filled with sympathy. "I know. But for now, you need to rest. You need to be strong. You can't keep running forever."

I swallow hard, my chest tightening with all the things I wish I could say. But the fear won't leave me. The weight of everything that's happened, everything I've lost—it's too much.

Adrian steps back, giving me space, but he doesn't leave. He just stands there, quietly watching me. And in that moment, I realize: he's not trying to hurt me. He's just trying to help, in the only way he knows how.

But the question lingers in the back of my mind, a thought that won't let go: can I trust him? Or is he just another part of the storm I've been running from?

Just to see the world fall apart when I'm gone.

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A/N: And chapter seven is here! Bit of a longer one but what are our thoughts? ♥️

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