Zelda sat by Ryan's bedside for what felt like hours, unmoving except for the subtle rise and fall of her chest. The quiet beeping of the heart monitor offered little comfort. She kept her hand in his, as if willing her warmth into him would call him back. The doctor had said he was stable. That he just needed rest. That shock was the body's way of protecting itself. But none of that dulled the ache clawing inside her chest.
She jumped slightly when the door creaked open.
Berrett stepped in, his voice light but concerned. "Zed, there you are."
She turned to him slowly, trying to mask her tears.
He crouched beside her chair, his usual grin replaced with something gentler. He reached up and wiped her tears with his thumb. "Pumpkin, you know he won't want to see you crying when he wakes up."
She managed a nod, her throat too tight to speak.
Berrett stood and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I came to save you. The Douge is around."
Zelda blinked. "The what?"
Berrett made a face. "The Douge. That's what Ryan and I call him. Our favorite nickname for the prince of chill himself."
"You mean…" she trailed off.
He nodded dramatically. "Lucien."
Before Zelda could respond, a voice cut through the room.
"Who's around?"
They both froze.
Lucien stood in the doorway, tall, impassive, his eyes fixed on them like a surgeon examining an incision. Zelda instinctively pulled her hand from Ryan's.
Berrett let out a shaky laugh. "No one. Just—just a bad joke."
Lucien stepped into the room, and Berrett stood straighter, backing up toward the wall.
"Where are you taking her?" Lucien asked, calm but with an edge that made it feel like a demand.
"Nowhere," Berrett muttered, avoiding eye contact.
Lucien's gaze landed on Zelda. He walked over slowly and placed a hand on her head, fingers brushing her hair. She went rigid at his touch.
"How are you?" he asked, voice low.
It was the first time in years that he'd spoken directly to her.
Zelda blinked up at him. Her brain scrambled for a response, but her mouth moved on instinct. "I'm okay."
He studied her face, unreadable. "Mother is calling you. You should get going."
It wasn't a suggestion.
Zelda stood quickly, brushing past Berrett, desperate to escape the storm of emotions whirling in her chest.
---
Downstairs, Marie waited, pacing the living room with a worn expression. When she spotted Zelda, her face softened.
"Zel, where are you running to?"
Zelda collapsed into her arms, burying her face in her adoptive mother's shoulder.
Marie held her tightly, then looked up toward the stairs. Lucien's silhouette hovered at the landing, motionless.
"You don't always have to be harsh to her, you know?" Marie called up.
Lucien didn't answer.
Marie pulled away gently from Zelda and walked up a few steps. "She's hurting. You know how attached she is to Ryan. Don't make things worse."
Lucien finally turned, his eyes meeting Marie's. "This isn't the time for sentiment."
"She's family."
"She's still learning what that means," he replied and walked away.
Marie sighed, turning back to Zelda. "He's... difficult."
Zelda nodded. "He always has been."
They sat together in silence for a while, the warmth of the moment a stark contrast to the coldness upstairs.
---
Later that night, Zelda couldn't sleep.
She found herself standing outside Ryan's room again. The hallway lights had been dimmed, casting long shadows on the walls. She opened the door slowly and slipped inside.
Ryan looked more peaceful now. His breathing steady, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm.
She sat beside him again, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
"I miss you," she whispered.
A knock sounded on the doorframe. She turned, half-expecting Berrett.
But it was Lucien.
He didn't enter.
"I told you he was stable," he said.
Zelda looked down. "I know."
Lucien's voice was lower now. "You shouldn't be here alone."
She didn't answer.
He stepped in, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.
"I remember when you first came here," he said after a moment.
Zelda turned to him, surprised.
"You were quiet. Always watching."
"You never said anything to me."
"You were five," he replied. "I didn't know what to say."
"You didn't have to say anything. Just not look at me like I was... different."
Lucien's expression shifted, almost imperceptibly. "You were different. That doesn't mean I didn't notice you."
She blinked. "So why push me away?"
Lucien exhaled, as if the answer cost him something. "Because some attachments come with consequences."
Zelda stood, heart pounding. "You think I'm a consequence?"
"I think you're more dangerous than you realize," he said quietly.
He turned to leave, but before he reached the door, he paused.
"You should rest. Ryan's in good hands."
Zelda sat back down, but she didn't look at him.
As he walked out, the door clicked shut behind him.
She stared at Ryan, but her thoughts were elsewhere now — tangled, unsure, and electric with something she couldn't name.
---
The next morning, breakfast was quiet.
Berrett sat beside her, occasionally tapping her foot with his under the table to make her smile.
Marie read the news on her tablet, frowning.
Lucien didn't show.
Zelda didn't ask why.
But her thoughts kept drifting back to his voice. His eyes. His warning.
What had he meant — dangerous?
She looked down at her hands.
Maybe, for the first time, she wanted to find out.