I saw him putting it in and l could only look and think to myself am l really going to do this with him. I mean l really don't know what he is up to but whatever it was wasn't going to do it without knowing what it is.
I then pushed him and he fall back to the ground .
" What are you doing,honey?"
" I don't know what you are doing,so please leave my room ." I said warping the sheets on my body.
" It won't hurt l promise,l only need to feel you this once and then l will leave,okay..."
" But l don't want that."
"See it's only just a simple wiggly thing, don't you want to try it. You can even taste it,it's so sweet." He got up from the ground and then launched at me again. "You know what l have had enough of these games. I am gonna do it anyways."
.....
"Nyx, nyx...wake up?"
I woke gasping, the edges of darkness finally receding. My chest heaved, my body trembling from the slow burn of the poison, and the first thing I noticed was the sharp, steady rhythm of my own heartbeat. Liam was there—kneeling beside me, hands gripping mine like he could hold me together if he tried hard enough. Relief and panic warred in his eyes, and I saw him blink back tears, trying so hard to stay composed.
I swallowed hard. "I'm… I'm fine," I rasped, though the words sounded foreign even to me.
"You nearly didn't make it," he muttered, voice tight. "Don't ever scare me like that."
I wanted to speak, to explain that I was okay, that the adrenaline had kept me going—but the memory hit me before words could form. My mind spun, drawing me back into that nightmare I thought I had buried.
I was eight again.
The walls of my old home pressed in around me. Shadows danced in the corners, thrown by the flicker of what should have been a warm nightlight, but now felt sinister. I saw my parents asleep—so peaceful, so unsuspecting—before everything went wrong. I remembered the sounds: footsteps, muffled screams, the shattering of our safety, the night that had stolen them from me.
A chill ran down my spine, not from the poison but from the echo of that fear. I saw my small self clutching the blankets, paralyzed, unsure what I could do, and for a moment, the weight of all those years pressed down like a stone in my chest.
And then, the figures returned—another intrusion, another wave of chaos—but this time there was someone else, someone steady. An older man, calm, searching. And next to him, a boy with wide eyes who reminded me of Adrien. When their gaze met mine, the old man's voice was gentle, unshakable.
"It's going to be okay now," he said, and in those few words, a seed of trust took root.
I followed them silently, too shaken to speak, but something inside me decided—this time, I would survive.
We went to their home. I started living with them. Adrien became my brother, Sebastian my anchor, and though the world outside had tried to claim me, these small moments of safety stitched me back together. Over the years, I learned to walk through the world with caution, with a sense of control, but also with the knowledge that danger could return at any moment.
Even on my sixteenth birthday, when Sebastian handed me that gift and told me how proud he was, the lesson lingered: trust cautiously, survive fiercely, and always, always keep control of yourself.
And now, lying on the ship deck, breath ragged from the poison, heart still hammering, I understood something crucial. All those years of fear, all the losses I'd endured—they didn't make me weak. They had prepared me.
I pushed myself upright. Liam's hand was still on mine, anchoring me, but I didn't need it anymore. I was still trembling, yes, but the poison was fading, my mind sharpening again. I looked around. The Reiss family was safe for the moment, and Dorian was handling the next steps.
And I knew: I could survive this. I had survived worse.
This was just another night. Another challenge. And I would meet it with everything I had.
By the time the poison had fully loosened its grip on me, the ship had already begun to slow.
I could feel it in the subtle change beneath my feet—the steady hum of the engines easing, the faint shift in balance. Dawn was creeping in through the narrow windows now, pale and unsure, like it didn't quite know if it was welcome yet.
We were close.
I pushed myself fully upright, ignoring the lingering ache in my body. Liam watched me carefully, like he was afraid I might disappear again if he blinked too long.
"You good?" he asked quietly.
I nodded. "Good enough."
He didn't argue. He never did when he heard that tone in my voice.
Dorian rejoined us shortly after, calm as ever, his presence grounding. Clara held Yeager close, whispering softly to him as he slept, her shoulders finally lowering just a fraction. She looked exhausted—but hopeful. That alone made everything worth it.
When we disembarked, the air hit different.
Cooler. Sharper. The kind of air that belonged to borders and decisions and lives about to change forever.
The port at Enver was quieter than I expected. Not empty—just controlled. Officials moved with purpose. Vehicles waited in neat rows beyond the checkpoint. Everything felt deliberate, rehearsed. Safe, but only just.
Liam slowed beside me and subtly angled his head forward.
"There," he murmured.
I followed his gaze.
A man stood a short distance away from the others, hands clasped behind his back, posture relaxed but alert. He looked ordinary enough—mid-forties, neutral clothes, no visible weapons—but there was something about the way he watched the area that set him apart. He wasn't scanning nervously. He was assessing.
I didn't need the photo to know.
But Liam took it out anyway, just long enough to confirm. The resemblance was exact.
Mr. Graham.
One of the higher-ups' most trusted allies on this side of the border. The kind of man who didn't survive this long without knowing exactly when to disappear and when to stand his ground.
As we approached, his eyes flicked to Clara and Yeager first. He softened immediately, just a touch, and that told me more than any file ever could.
"You must be Clara," he said gently. "And this must be Yeager."
Clara nodded, visibly overwhelmed. "You're… Mr. Graham?"
He smiled faintly. "I am. You're safe now."
Yeager shifted in her arms, stirring, and for the first time since I'd met him, I saw a real smile break through his sleepiness.
Something inside my chest finally loosened.
Dorian exchanged a few quiet words with Graham—short, efficient, professional. Liam stepped back, letting them handle the formalities, his shoulders finally relaxing now that the handoff was in motion.
I stayed a step behind, watching.
This was the part no one talked about. The moment after the chaos, when everything slowed enough for the weight to settle. When you saw clearly what you'd fought for.
Clara turned to me then.
She hesitated, like she didn't know what to say, and then simply reached out and squeezed my hand.
"Thank you," she said. Her voice shook. "For everything."
I nodded once. "Live well," I told her. "That's all I ask."
Graham guided them toward a waiting vehicle, already giving instructions, already thinking ten steps ahead. When the door closed behind them and the car pulled away, I stood there a moment longer, watching until it disappeared from view.
Mission complete.
Liam exhaled beside me, long and slow. "You did good, Nyx."
I didn't answer right away.
I watched the border instead—the thin line that separated one life from another, one ending from a beginning.
Then I said, quietly, "Let's go home."
And for the first time in a long while, I meant it.