Steven’s POV

  Morning came too politely.

  Not with a storm. Not with sirens. Not with the world collapsing the way it had last night.

  Just… light.

  Soft sunlight slid across Aqua’s living room like the world hadn’t done anything wrong. Like it hadn’t eaten my house and swallowed my mom and left me standing in ash with a business card in my hand.

  I blinked awake on the couch, my body heavy in that weird way sleep gives you when it’s too short to be real rest.

  The blanket Aqua had thrown over me sometime in the night was half on, half off, and my shirt was twisted like I’d been fighting in my sleep.

  I sat up slowly.

  The apartment was quiet—until my nose caught it.

  Eggs.

  Warm bread.

  And something… slightly burnt.

  Not smoke. Not danger.

  Just… breakfast burnt.

  Like a normal problem.

  Like a problem I understood.

  My stomach growled before my brain could tell it to stop.

  I rubbed my face, stared at the ceiling for a second, then followed the smell toward the kitchen like I was being pulled by a string.

  Aqua stood at the counter, hair down, wearing one of those oversized pajama t-shirts, that could be a dress, which made her look almost normal.

  Almost.

  A pan sizzled in front of her, and she lifted it, squinting at the bottom like she was personally offended by the idea of browning.

  I cleared my throat softly. “Uh…”

  Aqua’s head lifted instantly—like she’d sensed me before I even spoke.

  Her expression softened. “Good morning.”

  My mouth twitched like it wanted to smile and failed. “Morning.”

  I nodded toward the pan. “What are you making?”

  Aqua’s lips curved—small, proud, like she’d been waiting to surprise me. “Egg sandwiches. And fruit.”

  “Egg sandwiches,” I repeated, like it was a sacred phrase.

  She turned the stove down as if she’d just remembered humans preferred their food not scorched.

  “I may have… overestimated your pan’s strength,” she admitted.

  I gave a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “It’s okay. Burnt is still edible.”

  Aqua shot me a look that said you should not have to live like that.

  Then her gaze flicked toward the hallway.

  “Katie?” I asked automatically.

  Because Katie was usually up before me.

  Even when she was tired.

  Even when she was upset.

  Even when she’d pretend she wasn’t.

  Aqua nodded. “She’s in the bath.”

  I blinked. “The bath?”

  Aqua’s voice dropped, gentler. “She said she wanted to soak her cares away.”

  That hit me harder than it should’ve.

  Because Katie was a shower person.

  Quick. Efficient. In and out. No time to think.

  And choosing a bath meant… she wanted time.

  Time to sit still.

  Time to feel it.

  Time to not have to be brave for anybody.

  I swallowed and nodded once. “Yeah. That… makes sense.”

  Aqua set three plates on the table, then slid a bowl of fruit between them like she was offering peace in the form of strawberries.

  I sat slowly, my body clearly feeling different this morning then from previous days.

  Like my body was more alert. More agile. More heightened.

  Is this what it is like to have superpowers?

  My phone sat on the table where I’d left it. I picked it up out of habit—then my thumb hovered.

  Mom.

  No new messages.

  No missed calls.

  And the absence of her name there felt like a bruise I couldn’t stop pressing.

  I stared at her contact.

  My thumb hovered like it was afraid of the truth.

  Then I hit call before I could talk myself out of it.

  One ring.

  Two.

  Three.

  Straight to voicemail.

  I ended it fast—too fast—like hearing her voicemail greeting would snap something inside me.

  My chest gave a slow, heavy thump.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Quiet and steady.

  Like my body was settled…

  …but my life was not.

  I stared at the screen, then whispered, “Please be alive.”

  Aqua didn’t speak. She didn’t pity me.

  She just moved like she understood what it meant to need to keep moving so you didn’t fall apart.

  The eggs were on the table now—sandwiched between toasted bread, a little uneven, edges browned.

  Normal food.

  Normal morning.

  I took one bite.

  It tasted like effort.

  It tasted like someone trying to take care of us.

  My throat tightened anyway.

  Aqua sat across from me with her own plate, watching me like she was checking whether I’d disappear if she blinked.

  I cleared my throat. “Before I forget…”

  I opened my phone again and scrolled to the contact.

  Frank — Fire Dept.

  My fingers hesitated, then I typed quickly:

  Me: Hey Frank. It’s Steven. We’re safe. Staying at a friend’s apartment for now. My sister is okay. If you hear anything… about my mom… please tell me.

  I sent Aqua’s address before I could rethink it.

  Then I stared at the screen like it might answer back.

  Aqua’s voice was quiet. “Who were you texting?”

  “A firefighter at the scene. He gave me his number last night.”

  Aqua’s gaze softened. “Good. You’re building a thread back to the truth.”

  A thread.

  Like my life was something that had snapped, and now I had to stitch it back together by hand.

  I set the phone down.

  Then I realized something else.

  Too quiet.

  I glanced around. “Where’s Fang?”

  Aqua’s eyes flicked toward the living room.

  “He moved,” she said. “To the couch.”

  I turned in my chair.

  Fang was coiled on the sofa cushion, tucked into the spot where I’d been sleeping—like the warmth from my body had stayed there and he’d claimed it.

  His head was lifted slightly.

  Watching me.

  Always watching.

  I swallowed and looked back at Aqua.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said.

  Aqua nodded immediately, like she’d been waiting for that sentence all morning.

  I lowered my voice. “I can’t keep Katie here.”

  Aqua didn’t look surprised.

  She looked… steady.

  Listening.

  “I want her here,” I rushed, words tumbling. “I don’t want her out of my sight. But after last night… after your sister… after everything you told me—”

  Aqua’s eyes sharpened in understanding.

  “You’re worried she’ll get pulled into it,” Aqua said softly.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “She’s… she’s not like me. You said she reads human.”

  Aqua nodded slowly.

  “And if people can just… show up,” I continued, stomach twisting, “then what happens if the wrong person shows up? What happens if someone decides Katie is a good way to get to me?”

  Aqua didn’t flinch away from the fear in my voice.

  “I think,” she said carefully, “sending her somewhere safe is the best course of action.”

  Relief and guilt collided in my chest so hard it almost made me dizzy.

  “My aunt,” I said, voice lower. “My mom’s younger sister lives in Paris. Aunt Claire.”

  Aqua’s brows lifted slightly. “Paris.”

  “She’s… stable,” I said. “Strict, kind of. But stable. And she won’t let Katie fall apart alone while I—”

  While I what?

  While I train?

  While I figure out what I am?

  While I step into a world I didn’t know existed?

  Aqua leaned forward, voice gentle.

  “While you put your life back together,” she supplied.

  My chest tightened.

  I nodded once. “Yeah.”

  Aqua’s gaze flicked toward the hall again, then back to me.

  “And if anyone comes looking,” she said quietly, “Katie won’t be the one standing next to you when they do.”

  I swallowed hard.

  It hurt to admit she was right.

  But it also felt like the first smart thing I’d done since the fire.

  “Okay,” I said, voice rough. “Then I’m doing it.”

  I grabbed my phone again, scrolled, and hit Aunt Claire’s contact before I could lose my nerve.

  I typed fast:

  Me: Aunt Claire… our house caught fire last night. Katie and I are safe, but Mom is missing. Can Katie stay with you for a while? I’ll explain everything as soon as I can.

  I stared at the screen after I sent it, heart hammering.

  Then the reply came so fast it made my stomach drop.

  Aunt Claire: Steven. I’m here. I got the text from Katie about the house fire. Tell me what you need. Are you safe? Is Katie safe? I can help. I can come. I can take her. Anything.

  I blinked at it.

  That was Aunt Claire.

  Sharp edges.

  Big heart.

  Love that sounded like orders.

  I swallowed hard and typed again—slower now, because this one mattered.

  Me: Katie needs you. Please take her in for now. Book her a flight. I’ll send you the airport info. I have to handle some things here. Please.

  Three dots.

  Then:

  Aunt Claire: Bring her. Of course she can stay. I’m booking her a flight now. Tell me what airport. And you—eat something. You cannot take care of your sister if you fall apart.

  My throat tightened in that stupid way it always did when someone cared and I didn’t know what to do with it.

  I set my phone down.

  And then—like the universe liked timing my pain—

  the bathroom door opened.

  Katie stepped out, hair damp, wrapped in one of Aqua’s towels like she didn’t trust her own clothes yet.

  Her eyes landed on me.

  Then on Aqua.

  Then on the plates of food like she’d walked into a scene that had been happening without her permission.

  “You’re up,” she said hoarsely.

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  Katie’s gaze narrowed immediately. “Why do you look like you’re about to tell me something I’m not going to like?”

  Aqua’s eyes flicked to me.

  My stomach twisted.

  I forced my voice to stay steady.

  “Sit,” I said gently.

  Katie didn’t sit.

  She just stared at me like she was already bracing.

  I swallowed.

  Then I said it.

  “You’re going to Paris.”

  Katie blinked once.

  Twice.

  “What?”

  “To stay with Aunt Claire,” I added quickly. “Just for a while. Until things calm down.”

  Katie’s face sharpened like a blade. “No. Steven, no. I’m not leaving you!”

  “Katie—”

  “No!” She cut in, stepping closer. “Our mom is missing. Our house is gone. And you’re going to send me away?”

  Her voice cracked on the last word and she hated herself for it immediately.

  I stood, slow and careful, like I was approaching a wild animal.

  “I’m not sending you away because I don’t want you,” I said, voice low. “I’m sending you because I have to.”

  Katie’s eyes flashed. “That makes no sense.”

  “It does,” I insisted. “Aunt Claire has a home. A routine. A place where you can eat and sleep and breathe without—” my throat tightened “—without having to watch me spiral while I try to figure out what’s happening.”

  Katie stared at me like she wanted to fight.

  Then her shoulders dropped an inch.

  “You acting mature is weird.” she muttered bitterly.

  I almost laughed. Almost.

  “I have to,” I said quietly, “because you started looking at me like I’m the adult.”

  Katie’s mouth twitched despite herself.

  Then her eyes went glossy and she looked away fast like she was mad at her tears.

  “This is stupid,” she whispered.

  “I know,” I said softly. “But it’s my call.”

  Katie’s head snapped back. “Excuse me?”

  I held her gaze.

  Firm. Calm. Not angry.

  Just… decided.

  “It’s my call,” I repeated gently. “Because you’re my sister. And I’m not losing you too.”

  Katie’s jaw clenched.

  She hated it.

  But she heard it.

  Her shoulders sagged, defeat creeping in like a slow tide.

  “Fine,” she muttered.

  I blinked. “Fine?”

  Katie glared. “Fine. I’ll go. But only because Aunt Claire is so annoying that she’ll probably drag me around Paris like I’m her emotional support niece.”

  A surprised laugh escaped me—small, cracked, real.

  “There she is,” I murmured.

  Katie’s expression softened for half a second.

  Then she stormed past me toward the hallway.

  “I’m going to my room,” she snapped, as if she had thing she had to pack.

  Her bedroom door shut.

  Silence fell.

  My chest felt like it had been squeezed.

  I stared at the table—

  at the food,

  at the untouched fruit,

  at my phone with Aunt Claire’s messages still glowing like a lifeline I didn’t deserve.

  I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

  Aqua moved quietly.

  Then she reached across the table and placed her hand over mine.

  Warm.

  Steady.

  Real.

  I swallowed hard.

  “I hate this,” I admitted.

  Aqua’s voice was soft. “I know.”

  I squeezed her fingers once—like that small pressure was the only thing keeping me from breaking.

  Then a random thought hit me, sharp and desperate—anything to distract from the fact I was sending my sister away.

  “Aqua,” I whispered. “How do Salvatores train?”

  Aqua’s gaze lifted.

  “I was wondering how Salvatores train.” I said, myself back into the moment. “Besides… the love sucking thing.”

  Aqua hesitated. “I don’t know your system’s name, what your family calls it.”

  My jaw tightened, but I nodded.

  “But I do know this,” Aqua continued. “Salvatores are mainly physical combatants. Bodies first. Instincts. Control.”

  “So… what,” I breathed, “I run until I’m tired?”

  Aqua’s mouth twitched faintly. “Yes. Except you may not tire.”

  That made my stomach twist with a strange flicker of fear and excitement.

  Aqua tilted her head toward the window, toward the trees beyond. “The clearing from last night. It’s private. Quiet. It’s good for now.”

  I nodded slowly. “Okay. Then that’s where I practice.”

  Aqua’s eyes held mine. “When you’re ready… I’ll help.”

  That mattered more than it should’ve.

  It mattered anyway.

  I pulled in a slow breath and forced myself to stand.

  “I’m gonna go for a jog,” I said, voice rough. “Just… to clear my head. I’ll be back.”

  Aqua’s hand lingered for half a second longer before she let go.

  “Okay,” she said softly. “Be careful.”

  I grabbed my hoodie off the chair on the way out, the fabric grounding me in something familiar.

  As I passed the living room, my eyes snagged on Fang—coiled on the couch like he owned it, head lifted slightly, watching me like he knew what I was about to do.

  My skin prickled.

  I didn’t know why.

  But I didn’t stop walking.

  Next Chapter: Steven gets his first taste of what being a Salvatore is all about.