Valerie's POV
"Stop moving, Val."
"How am I supposed to stay still when the alcohol burns like that, Jun?"
Juno sighed, pressing the cotton pad against the cut on my cheek.
"That's what you get for picking a fight with someone twice your size."
"He started it first."
"Yeah, and you finished it," Max said from the end of the couch, still in her oversized gray hoodie, hugging a small pillow to her chest.
"But seriously, Val, you don't have to prove anything to anyone. We already know you're strong."
I shrugged. The blood at the corner of my lip had stopped dripping, but the sting remained with every breath I took. The small apartment in Slither felt stuffy, reeking of sweat and rubbing alcohol.
"Alright, that's enough. I can handle the rest myself."
Juno tried to hold my wrist, but I gently pulled away. "Thanks, Jun."
She rolled her eyes. "You're so damn stubborn, you know that?"
"Used to it," Max muttered softly, making me chuckle.
I stood up and faced my reflection in the cracked mirror in the corner of the room. My face was a mess, bruises everywhere, my nose slightly swollen, lip split, and a long scratch running down my right cheek. Not terrible, but bad enough to make anyone flinch.
"You sure you don't wanna crash here tonight?" Max asked quietly.
I shook my head. "Can't. My dad'll lose it if I don't come home."
"He's gonna lose it anyway when he sees your face," Juno muttered.
I sighed. "He's seen worse. At most, I'll get another hour-long lecture tomorrow."
They exchanged a look, both of them knew I wasn't lying.
"Aren't you tired?" Max finally asked, almost whispering.
"Tired of what?"
"Fighting him. You fight people in the ring, then go home and fight your dad."
I looked at Max for a long moment before giving a faint smile. "Yeah, I'm tired. But I don't think I know how to stop."
Silence. The hum of motorcycles outside filled the gap.
"You still remember what Jax said, right?" Juno asked quietly.
I snorted. "Which one? Jax talks too much."
"The one about cutting back on fights. He said you've already got enough attention, you don't need to stir more trouble."
I raised a brow at her. "Sometimes I forget who the hacker is and who's playing mom here."
Max laughed softly, but Juno only arched a brow.
"Fine. Whatever. Just promise you're not going back to the ring this week."
I stayed silent, pretending to be busy fixing my jacket.
"Val."
"Fine," I said quickly. "Not going back this week. Happy?"
Juno still eyed me suspiciously. "You're impossible. You say that but I know you'll be back there anyway."
I met her gaze through the mirror, my lips curving into a half-smile. "Maybe. But not this week."
They knew this conversation was going nowhere. After a few moments, Max stood up, grabbed her bag, and patted my shoulder gently. "Be careful at home, okay? Don't argue if your dad starts scolding."
I nodded. "Don't worry. I've mastered the art of pretending to listen."
Juno clicked her tongue, then pulled me into a quick hug. "Call us if anything happens."
Once they left, the apartment fell silent. I sat for a bit, adjusting the bandage on my hand, then took a deep breath.
Alright. Time to go home.
My house wasn't far, just a fifteen-minute walk from Slither. But that night felt longer than usual. The sky was dark, lit only by dim streetlights. My boots echoed softly against the damp pavement.
The moment I reached the front door, I could already sense the tension inside. The living room light was still on, and a shadow moved behind the curtain.
Shit.
I pushed the door open quietly. Thomas Kessler stood in the middle of the living room, still wearing his light-blue work shirt, his tie loose. His face was stern.
"Valerie."
Just my name, but his tone was enough to freeze me at the doorway.
"Do you know what time it is?"
"Just past eleven," I murmured, kicking off my boots by the door.
He scanned my face from top to bottom.
"What happened to your face?"
"It's nothing."
"Nothing?" His voice rose. "You come home bruised and bleeding and tell me it's nothing?"
I shrugged. "Just training."
"What kind of training makes you bleed like that?"
"Boxing."
Thomas rubbed his temples. "How many times have I told you, Val? I don't want you anywhere near that place again. Green Alley isn't for normal people!"
I snorted. "Normal people? Since when do we care about being normal?"
"Valerie—"
"Not everyone wants to live stiff and perfect like you, Dad."
"This isn't about that. It's about your safety!"
"Safety? You're never even home to know if I'm alive or not!"
The words shot out before I could stop them. The sound of my own voice echoed in the empty room.
Thomas froze.
"Valerie…" His tone dropped, still sharp but softer. "I work every day so you can live a decent life. I don't want to see you fall into the same world as the people I arrest."
I let out a bitter laugh. "Funny. The only reason I fell was because of you."
He looked at me, his eyes sharp, but tired.
"You don't even know what I'm fighting."
"I don't care."
"I'm trying to close a case that could change lives."
"Oh, great. Another speech about justice." I glared at him. "Justice for who? Because as far as I remember, you forgot how to be a father a long time ago."
Thomas took a deep breath. "I know you're angry. But I won't let you destroy yourself."
I crossed my arms. "And I don't need you to save me."
"Val—"
"I can take care of myself."
The tension was suffocating. Only the ticking clock dared to interrupt.
Finally, Thomas spoke again, quiet but firm.
"I have to go out for a bit. I need to deliver these files to the courthouse. Don't go anywhere tonight."
I stared at him. "More files? You really never stop thinking about work, huh?"
He didn't reply. Just grabbed his jacket and patted the inside pocket, where thick folders peeked out.
Before he stepped out, I said, "Don't worry. This house won't miss you either."
He stopped. But he didn't turn back.
His voice came low. "Don't say something you'll regret, Valerie."
The door closed.
I didn't know how long I stood on the stairs, staring at the door that had just shut. My chest was chaos, but my pride was louder. I wanted to run after him, to say I'm sorry, but my feet wouldn't move.
Eventually, I climbed to my room, turned on the light, and sat on the floor. Quiet. Too quiet. Usually, I'd hear his radio in the kitchen or the rustle of papers from his office. But that night, nothing.
I looked down at my bandaged hand. The pain outside and inside felt the same tonight.
I wanted to be angry. But at who? My father? Myself? The world that never stopped falling apart?
I grabbed my phone and opened Juno's chat.
{He's mad again. I regret what I said. I went too far.}
{Want me to come over?} Juno replied instantly.
{No need. I just need some quiet.}
{Okay. But promise you're not going back to the ring this week.}
I stared at the screen for a moment, then typed back.
{...promise.}
I set my phone down. And that night, for the first time the house felt colder than ever.
The next morning, the smell of coffee usually filled the kitchen by seven. But not today. The house was silent. I went downstairs slowly, half-awake, hoping Dad had just fallen asleep in his office again. But the table was empty.
I thought he just hadn't come home yet, until my phone rang. Unknown number.
"Are you Valerie Kessler?" A deep voice, hurried.
"Yes, who's this?"
"This is Avellyn Police Department. I need you to come to this location immediately."
"Why? What happened?"
"Just come, Miss Kessler. We need an identification."
My breath stopped.
The spoon in my hand slipped and clattered against the tile floor, echoing through the empty kitchen.
That morning the air was cold. Too cold. The sound of sirens carried down the street long before I arrived. I didn't remember how I got there, only that I was standing behind the yellow tape, staring at the gray tarp covering a body.
Bryan Carpenter stood before me, his face grim.
"Valerie," he said quietly.
I just stared.
He bowed his head slightly. "Your father was a good man. Stubborn, but good. I told him to stop digging into Orion-78, but he wouldn't listen."
I couldn't respond. My throat locked.
He gave my shoulder a light pat before walking away. I stood there, hands trembling, chest hollow.
Hours later, I was at the police station. Boxes of my father's belongings sat stacked on a desk. Everything looked foreign, as if they belonged to someone else.
There were folders full of newspaper clippings: Project Orion-78 – Rhys Tech Leak. Handwritten notes. Photos. And in one torn piece of paper, a headline with a familiar face, a young man in a black suit, sharp gaze, perfect smile.
Leonardo Rhys.
I stared at the picture for a long time, my jaw tightening.
"Miss Kessler?"
I turned. The middle-aged officer from earlier stood at the doorway.
"There's one more thing," he said, handing me a brown envelope.
"What is this?"
"A photo. We didn't get to process the main piece of evidence because… it went missing this morning."
"Evidence?"
"The murder weapon. A knife. Something not sold anywhere. Looks Japanese, with engravings on the handle."
I slowly opened the envelope. Inside, there's one photo.
A silver blade, slim and gleaming even under harsh light, with Japanese kanji etched along its black wooden hilt. It looked expensive. And merciless.
"Something like this isn't sold to just anyone," the officer said quietly. "If you ever hear or see anything similar, call us immediately."
I nodded. The photo felt heavy in my hand. Like the knife was still wet with blood.
That night, I sat at my father's desk. Papers were scattered everywhere, but I didn't care. I just stared at the photo, trying to imagine who could be rich enough, cruel enough, and bold enough to kill him with something like this.
But through all those thoughts, one sentence kept echoing in my head,
"Don't say something you'll regret, Valerie."
I pressed my chest. It felt like I couldn't breathe, and the tears just started falling before I even realized it.