The sky had already turned purple by the time Luna and Reid crossed the backyard. The cold stung her cheeks, but she barely felt it. Her hands still trembled — not from the tests, not from exhaustion — but from the possibility that she might one day end up in Elderwatch’s care anyway.

  A new future to fear.

  Another cage.

  Reid had gone quiet too. The results of their tests — brilliant and terrifying — turned their faces paler by the minute. But when they reached the back door, Reid squeezed Luna’s arm once, wordlessly, before heading to the kitchen.

  Luna braced herself for Trey's interrogation on where she had been, scolding her for skipping meals or whatever he had prepared for her.

  She was ready for all of that.

  But none of that happened.

  Luna eventually made it all the way up to the second floor without anyone ambushing her.

  Then she stopped.

  Ermin stood there, waiting at the top of the stairs. His expression was hard to read — stern, worried, and something dangerously close to pity.

  “Luna.”

  Her stomach dropped.

  He knew?

  Did Reid tell him?

  Did someone see?

  Her heart hammered as if the man standing in front of her was an executioner preparing to behead her for having such powerful Quanta.

  “Sir?”

  ‘Come, sit.”

  “What happened? You’re scaring me, sir.”

  Ermin sighed, softer this time, and gestured to an armchair. Luna sat carefully, every muscle ready to bolt.

  “I’ve received news,” he said quietly, “about your hometown.”

  Her shoulders eased in an instant. Upperbeak. That was fine. That was normal.

  “Upperbeak? Is there anything wrong?”

  “No. My bad. Not Upperbeak.” His voice softened further. “The Thompsons’ Orphanage.”

  Luna’s breath caught. “Oh.”

  “The place was demolished this morning,” Ermin said. “Their network of fraud and abuse was torn down and sentenced. The children were relocated to closely monitored orphanages.”

  “What? H– How?”

  Her voice cracked. She hadn’t meant for it to.

  The Thompsons had survived complaints. Investigations. Pleas. Cries for help.

  And no one — no one — could ever touch them.

  Ermin snorted. “Apparently, they crossed someone they shouldn’t have. And that someone was very pissed.”

  Luna nodded slowly. “Huh. That person must be incredibly powerful.”

  Ermin’s eyes almost rolled back. “Enough to make the authorities listen. And it’s good news, Luna. They finally got what they deserved.”

  She forced a smile — crooked, stiff, unfamiliar.

  “For the kids,” she whispered. “It’s good for the kids.”

  And for me.

  I guess.

  “Thank you for telling me, sir.”

  Ermin squeezed her shoulder once then walked away, leaving her alone in the dim corridor.

  Luna didn’t move.

  Her lips parted — but no breath came out.

  Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, loud and steady and wrong.

  She should be happy.

  She should be relieved.

  She should feel free.

  Instead, she felt nothing.

  Or too much — she couldn’t tell which.

  In the staircase’s shadows, Trey and Francis exchanged a look. Francis caught the tremor in her shoulders immediately. Trey’s hands twitched like he wanted to go to her, but before he could, Luna shot up, turned sharply and walked away.

  She headed straight for the library.

  It was dark inside — good.

  Dust shimmered in the lantern light, and rows of forgotten books towered like quiet witnesses. Pine Hollow almost never used the place. That was why she liked it. It was safe here — too safe, maybe.

  She set the lantern on the table and went straight to the window. Outside, the forest swayed in silence. The air carried the faint scent of snow, and beyond the tree line, the faintest glimmer of the moon.

  She’s finally free.

  Free.

  She tested the word again.

  It didn’t fit.

  It felt too clean, too light — like clothing she didn’t deserve to wear.

  Her mind reached for old memories without her permission:

  A slammed door.

  A shout of her name.

  Hands grabbing.

  Something breaking.

  Her own breath held so tightly she forgot what breathing meant.

  Years of it.

  Years of surviving by being quiet.

  Years of believing help would never come.

  Years of smiling to protect others.

  Years of believing crying meant losing.

  Her fingers tightened on the window frame.

  Even after coming to Elkington, a small part of her had kept watch — waiting for the Thompsons to burst through the door, drag her back, remind her freedom wasn’t hers to hold.

  But they wouldn’t now.

  It was over.

  Truly over.

  And that was when her chest began to ache — a deep, unbearable ache, like air rushing into lungs that had forgotten how to expand.

  She heard a creak behind her.

  Trey leaned against the archway. Lantern light softened the edges of his dark hair.

  “Thought you might be here,” he said quietly. “Francis said to leave you alone. So naturally—”

  He gestured around the empty room. “I ignored him.”

  Luna didn’t turn. “Go away, Trey.”

  “No.”

  Her reflection caught his in the windowpane — steady, calm, refusing to leave even though she pushed.

  He always stayed when she was too tired to ask.

  “You heard, right?” she whispered. “It’s gone.”

  “I did.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “They’re gone.” Luna tried to smile. It trembled. “I should feel happy.”

  “Should?” he echoed.

  “Yeah. That’s what people do when they’re free, right? They’re happy.”

  Trey’s voice softened. “Luna…”

  Her throat tightened. The air felt too heavy.

  Something inside her cracked.

  “I don’t think I know how to be happy.”

  The confession escaped before she could swallow it.

  She had rehearsed this moment — the day justice came, the day she’d finally breathe without fear. She had imagined smiling, laughing, celebrating.

  But she wasn’t.

  Her chest trembled, her vision blurred, and a thin sound — unfamiliar and vulnerable — slipped out of her throat.

  A sob.

  Trey moved instantly, but he didn’t touch her until she leaned, ever so slightly, toward him. Then his arms wrapped around her, slow and steady.

  She fell into him.

  And the tears came — hot, fierce, unstoppable, leaving tracks she hadn’t let anyone see.

  All the years she had held them back.

  All the nights she had stayed silent.

  All the pain she had buried so no child would suffer.

  All the fear she had carried alone.

  All the smiles she had forced because breaking meant losing.

  It spilled.

  Every bit of it.

  She hated crying.

  She hated how small it made her feel.

  She hated to give them the win.

  But Trey held her like she wasn’t breaking — like she was finally allowed to.

  “Let it out,” he murmured, “you don’t have to be strong all the time.”

  “I’m not—” she gasped, “I’m not crying for them.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m crying because—because I thought they’d come back. Every day. I thought if I was quiet enough—worked hard enough—maybe they’d stop.”

  Her voice cracked. “I never stopped thinking— that they would come for me—”

  Trey’s arms tightened. “And now they never will.”

  She shook, trembling. “It’s stupid.”

  “It’s human,” he said simply.

  That undid her completely.

  She clutched his shirt, letting years of restraint snap, letting the fear and survival drain out of her in shuddering breaths. Trey said nothing more — just rested his chin gently against her hair, breathing slow, grounding her.

  After a long time, when her sobs finally softened, Luna whispered, “I don’t know how to stop being scared.”

  Trey brushed a thumb under her damp cheek.

  “Then I’ll keep reminding you,” he said quietly. “As often as it takes.”

  A broken laugh escaped her — small, real.

  For once, she let herself lean into him, not out of fear, but because she finally could.

  And for the first time in years, Luna didn’t cry because she was hurt.

  She cried because she was safe enough to.

  Darkness still lingered, mixed with soft, faint golden lines spreading across the horizon.

  Luna’s footsteps echoed in the pinewood as she shuffled absentmindedly, arms wrapped tight around herself as if she could physically keep her chest from cracking open.

  Her eyes were swollen to the size of eggs.

  Her nose ached.

  Her throat felt scraped raw and dry as a desert wind.

  Even breathing hurt.

  But she kept moving.

  She needed air.

  She needed space.

  She needed something—anything—that wasn’t the hollow ache clawing through her since last night.

  The news.

  The breakdown.

  The fear of her own Quanta.

  The confusion of feeling “free,” yet somehow unable to breathe.

  It was too much. Too fast.

  Too cruel.

  I don’t need this. Not right now.

  Her mind could barely handle one fear, let alone two.

  Her legs carried her aimlessly, until the towering pines thinned into long, drooping curtains of willow branches. Their whispers brushed her cheeks like ghostly fingers.

  She blinked.

  Shit. I crossed into Willow Shade’s area.

  She spun too quickly. The world tilted sideways. A rush of dizziness swallowed her vision.

  She grabbed a nearby trunk, clinging until the ground steadied under her feet.

  “Luna?”

  She froze.

  Great. Now I’m hallucinating.

  “Luna! What are you doing here?”

  She turned and found Sergio standing a few steps away — hair tousled, shirt damp with morning dew, gloves hanging from his belt. He must have been training before dawn.

  He stared at her like she had no right existing in front of him.

  “Sergio,” Luna croaked, straightening on instinct. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—cross into your area. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  He blinked, confused. “You don’t have to apologize. There’s no rule saying students can’t visit other houses.”

  “Oh,” she murmured, swaying slightly. “I thought—”

  “You look awful.”

  Luna frowned. “Thank you?”

  “No—I mean—” he stepped closer, concern overtaking embarrassment, “you’re pale. Really pale. Do you need to sit?”

  “I’m fine.”

  She took a step and the ground simply dropped away.

  “Luna—”

  She blinked hard, trying to clear the fuzz in her vision.

  “I just… didn’t sleep well,” she whispered. “It’s nothing.”

  “Okay, no,” Sergio said, now openly alarmed. “Sit. Please. You don’t look—”

  Her vision blackened. Her knees buckled.

  “Luna!”

  Sergio didn’t hesitate.

  He surged forward, catching her right as her legs gave out. One arm slid behind her back, the other beneath her knees, lifting her before her forehead hit the ground.

  Her head slumped against his shoulder, heat radiating off her in an alarming wave.

  “Hey—hey, Luna—come on—” His voice cracked. “Stay with me.”

  She didn’t respond.

  Her breaths came shallow, uneven.

  Her skin was burning.

  Sergio cursed under his breath, panic rising sharp and cold. He shifted her carefully in his arms, mind racing.

  The infirmary. He should go to the infirmary.

  But…

  Francis was better, faster, more familiar with Luna.

  And Trey—

  Trey would kill him if he took her anywhere except Pine Hollow.

  Sergio spun on his heel, then ran straight toward Pine Hollow, Luna cradled tightly against him as dawn cracked fully over Elkington’s rooftops.

  Her hair brushed his collarbone with every jolt.

  Her breath hitched in shallow, uneven puffs.

  Her skin was frighteningly hot.

  “Just hang on,” he whispered, tightening his grip as he crossed the pinewood. “They’ll know what to do. I promise.”

  Sergio hadn’t even made it halfway up Pine Hollow’s front path when two figures burst out of the front door.

  Reid and Bridget.

  Both in pajamas.

  Both wild-eyed.

  Both clearly in hunt mode.

  Reid scanned the yard like a hunting falcon.

  Bridget clutched her robe, hair in an elegant disaster.

  They were moments away from splitting to search in opposite directions when Reid froze mid-step.

  Her eyes locked onto Sergio.

  Onto the limp girl in his arms.

  “—LUNA?!” she screamed.

  Bridget snapped her head around, saw the unconscious girl, and barked—

  actually barked—

  toward the backyard.

  “FRANCIS! TREYYYY!”

  Her voice echoed across the entire estate.

  But Reid didn’t wait for backup.

  She sprinted so fast Sergio took a step back out of pure survival instinct.

  “What happened to her?!” She demanded, grabbing Luna’s wrist, forehead, cheek—checking signs she absolutely did not know how to evaluate.

  Sergio stammered, “She was walking into Willow Shade’s and then she—she fainted—she’s burning up, I—”

  But Bridget wasn’t listening anymore.

  She cupped her hands around her mouth and bellowed again.

  “TREY LANCASTER, IF YOU DON’T GET HERE RIGHT THIS SECOND—”

  Crashing footsteps thundered somewhere behind the house.

  Two figures emerged from the backyard path a second later—

  one tall and furious, one thin and already panicking.

  Trey and Francis.

  Both in pajamas.

  Both barefoot.

  Both breathing like they sprinted the entire way.

  Trey saw Luna in Sergio’s arms, and something inside him snapped.

  He didn’t yell.

  Didn’t shove.

  Didn’t even speak at first.

  He simply went still.

  Dangerously, terrifyingly still.

  Francis, however, shoved past him immediately.

  “Move.” He nudged Reid aside and pressed a hand to Luna’s forehead. “She’s burning. High-grade fever.”

  Sergio looked like he was about to faint too. “I—she collapsed just now—”

  Francis’ voice sharpened, instinct taking over.

  “She needed treatment the second she swayed. Why didn’t you—”

  Trey’s voice cut in, low, cracking.

  “Put. Her. Down.”

  Sergio froze.

  He had never heard Trey sound like that.

  Francis shot Trey a warning look, but nodded anyway.

  “Sergio,” he said softly but firmly. “Hand her over.”

  Sergio swallowed, adjusting Luna carefully as he transferred her to Trey’s arms.

  The moment Trey took her, he held her like he’d done it a hundred times.

  Arms braced firm under her back and legs.

  Her head tucked under his chin.

  A steadying, protective grip that looked dangerously natural.

  Trey exhaled sharply, a shudder running down his spine as he pressed his cheek to her fever-hot temple.

  “Luna,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Why didn’t you tell us you were sick?”

  Reid placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get her inside. Now.”

  Francis nodded briskly. “Bring her to the isolated room. I need space, cold cloths, water—Bridget, wake Abel. Sergio…”

  His voice softened. “Thank you. Truly. You did the right thing.”

  In a blink, all five disappeared behind the door.

  Sergio still stood frozen on the porch, chest heaving, palms sweating.

  He had delivered her safely.

  But somehow, watching Trey disappear inside—

  He knew he had just walked into a battlefield he never intended to enter.