Steven’s POV

  By the time the taxi dropped me back off at Aqua’s building, my bag felt like it weighed fifty pounds.

  Passports.

  Birth certificates.

  Bank paperwork.

  Kevin’s business card.

  And the letter.

  Mom’s letter.

  My hand stayed clamped over it the whole ride like it could fly away if I loosened my grip—like if I didn’t hold onto it, she would be gone in a way I couldn’t undo.

  The sky was bright in that annoying coastal-Florida way—blue and clean, like the universe had decided to be pretty out of spite.

  I paid the driver in cash as I stepped out. Cash I’d withdrawn at the bank while I waited—the rest I’d give to Katie, so Aunt Claire wouldn’t have to spend all of hers right away.

  I stood in front of the building for half a second, collecting myself, staring up at Aqua’s apartment like it was a lifeboat.

  Then I forced my legs to work.

  Up the stairs.

  Past somebody’s doormat.

  Past somebody’s dirt-filled shoes.

  Past the smell of someone else’s breakfast drifting down the hallway.

  Normal life.

  Just… happening.

  I reached Aqua’s door—the one with the potted plant—hesitated once, then unlocked it and went inside.

  The girls were already at the table, chatting like they were trying to forget why I’d left in the first place.

  Aqua was still in her pajamas, cardigan draped over her shoulders like she’d been waiting to actually start her day until I came back. Katie’s hair was damp from a shower, and she was wearing one of Aqua’s oversized T-shirts like it was borrowed dignity.

  Aqua’s eyes flicked over my face fast.

  And she knew.

  Not what happened exactly.

  Just… that something had.

  She stood. “You’re back,” she said softly.

  I nodded once. My throat was too tight to manage anything else.

  Katie turned her head away in defiance, arms crossing like she could build a wall with her attitude.

  “—Katie,” Aqua cut in gently, warning and soothing at the same time.

  Katie faced me again with a glare that tried to look fierce and ended up looking… scared.

  “You left me,” she said with a pout.

  Something in my shoulders loosened at the sound of her being Katie again.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “It was a sudden meet-up. Too important to miss.”

  “Whatever,” she muttered—anger as armor. Then, quieter: “What happened?”

  I didn’t answer right away.

  Because if I opened my mouth too fast, the wrong thing would fall out.

  So I set my bag on a chair, reached in, and pulled out the passports first.

  Two navy booklets with gold lettering.

  I placed them carefully on the table like they were fragile.

  Katie’s eyes went wide.

  “…How?” she whispered.

  “Mom had them in a safe deposit box,” I said. My voice sounded rough even to me. “Her attorney had instructions. He gave them to me.”

  Katie stared at the passports like they were proof our life had become something else.

  Then her gaze snapped up.

  “Attorney,” she repeated. “Mom had an attorney? Aqua told me… since when?”

  Aqua sat close to Katie—close, but not crowding.

  I lowered into the chair too.

  “He’s legit,” I said quickly, because I could already feel Katie’s brain sniffing for traps. “Kevin Newman. Middle-aged. Stern. But… not cold. Just used to this.”

  Katie’s jaw tightened.

  “She planned for this,” she said, and her voice cracked like that possibility made her furious.

  I swallowed hard.

  “She prepared,” I corrected softly, repeating Kevin’s exact line because it was the only thing holding me upright. “Not because she wanted it to happen. Because she refused to leave us with nothing.”

  Katie looked away fast, blinking hard.

  And for a second, she didn’t look stubborn and grown.

  She looked sixteen again—technically almost seventeen—like a kid trying not to cry in public.

  Aqua’s hand drifted up and rested lightly on Katie’s shoulder.

  Katie didn’t shrug it off.

  That made my chest ease with a sharp kind of relief.

  Because somewhere inside this chaos, Katie had found someone else she could lean on for a second.

  And I didn’t know how much longer my arms could keep doing it alone.

  I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the white envelope.

  The one that still smelled faintly like paper and ink and my mother’s handwriting.

  “To: Steven and Katie,” I said softly, and my voice wobbled. “From: Mom.”

  Katie’s eyes snapped to it like it was a weapon.

  Aqua inhaled sharply—quiet, controlled.

  I set it down between us.

  “Kevin gave me this letter,” I said. “With all the other stuff. He let me read it there. He didn’t push. He just… waited.”

  Katie stared at the envelope for a long beat.

  Then she reached for it.

  Her fingers trembled a little, but she tried to hide it by gripping it harder.

  She opened it, pulled the letter out—

  and the second she saw Mom’s handwriting, her face folded.

  Not dramatically.

  Just… like her whole body had been holding itself together by brute force, and the handwriting was the one thing it couldn’t argue with.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Katie’s lips parted like she wanted to say something mean.

  Nothing came out.

  She sank into the chair, elbows on the table, and started reading.

  Aqua didn’t read over her shoulder.

  Didn’t rush her.

  Just stayed near like a steady wall.

  I stayed quiet, watching my sister’s eyes move across the page.

  Watching her swallow.

  Watching her jaw tighten.

  Watching the tears show up anyway.

  Halfway through, Katie’s breath hitched.

  She pressed the heel of her hand to her mouth like she could block the sound from escaping.

  Then she kept going.

  By the time she reached the warning part—If anyone says they know the family… you say nothing… you leave… you tell Kevin—Katie’s eyes were red, but sharp.

  She looked up at me.

  “Who is she talking about?” she demanded.

  I shook my head slowly.

  “I don’t know,” I said, honest. “But… she meant it.”

  Katie’s gaze dropped back to the page.

  Her voice came out smaller when she spoke again.

  “She said I’m stubborn,” she muttered, sniffling through it.

  Aqua’s mouth twitched faintly.

  “That seems accurate,” Aqua murmured gently.

  Katie shot Aqua a watery glare.

  “Don’t start,” she warned, but there wasn’t much bite left in it.

  Then Katie’s eyes hit the part where Mom said don’t punish Steven for trying to protect you.

  Katie’s throat bobbed.

  She looked at me again—furious and soft at the same time, like she hated that Mom had even needed to write that sentence.

  “Okay,” Katie whispered, voice hoarse. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  I blinked. “Do what?”

  Katie wiped her face with the back of her wrist like she was mad at the tears.

  “Let’s go shopping,” she repeated, harder. “I’ll need a lot of stuff before I go to Aunt Claire’s.”

  My chest felt a little lighter at her words.

  “You sure?” I asked carefully, because I didn’t want her regretting this later.

  She hesitated for one beat, then nodded—stubborn streak snapping back into place.

  “Yes,” she said. “Because if I don’t go, I’ll talk myself into staying again, and then you’ll try to protect me by being stupid, and Mom literally told me not to punish you for that.”

  A laugh slipped out of me—small, cracked, real.

  Aqua’s hand found mine on the edge of the table—warm, steady.

  Katie stared at it, then looked away like she refused to acknowledge how much she needed steadiness too.

  “What about Dad?” Katie asked suddenly. “Any calls or texts back yet?”

  My stomach tightened.

  Dad.

  Because I’d been thinking it too.

  “No,” I admitted quietly. “I haven’t heard back from him since the fire.”

  Katie’s brows pulled together.

  “Even now?” she scoffed, bitter.

  “He’s probably busy,” I said, trying not to jump to conclusions. “Work. Whatever.”

  “Yeah,” Katie said, but it sounded thin.

  It would’ve been normal not to hear back for a few days.

  A week, even.

  In any normal circumstance.

  I wanted to pretend he was a normal dad for a little longer.

  But the Salvatore symbol I’d once seen on one of his work envelopes—something like a crest—flashed in my mind at the worst possible time.

  The Salvatore Crest.

  Mom had been preparing for something.

  And the word family in her letter hadn’t meant neighbors.

  I looked away before my thoughts could turn into accusations.

  Not yet.

  Aqua’s thumb brushed my knuckles once—quiet grounding, like she could feel my mind trying to spiral.

  “Okay,” Aqua said softly, pulling us back into survival mode. “If Katie is going tomorrow, we need supplies today.”

  Katie sniffed. “That’s right. Aqua and I made a list together of everything we’ll need to hold us over for a long while.”

  “Chargers,” I said automatically. “Clothes. Toiletries. Anything we lost.”

  “And snacks,” Katie added grimly. “Because Aunt Claire is gonna feed me something French that looks like a dead leaf and call it dinner.”

  Aqua blinked. “French food is… a dead leaf?”

  Katie pointed at her. “You’ve never seen her shiny bread boomerang of a croissant.”

  Aqua’s eyes widened like she was filing that away as a new type of danger.

  Looking at them—talking like that—something in my chest eased.

  Not because grief disappeared.

  Because we weren’t alone in it.

  I stood.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  ---

  Town felt better when I wasn’t alone.

  Even though it was still too bright. Too alive. Too normal.

  The same coastal strip—gift shops, tourist windows, the smell of sunscreen even in the cooler air.

  And I walked through it like I was wearing someone else’s skin.

  Aqua stayed close on my right.

  Katie stayed close on my left.

  Like a triangle.

  Like if we broke formation, something would find the gap.

  We hit a practical store first.

  Basics fast: socks, underwear, sweatpants, a hoodie for Katie that didn’t smell like someone else’s detergent.

  Phone chargers. A power bank.

  Aqua kept updating the list on her phone like it calmed her to organize.

  Katie kept making snide comments like it calmed her to be mean.

  And I… I kept scanning faces without meaning to.

  Not for Dad.

  Not for reporters.

  For something I didn’t know how to name.

  My instincts kept trying to scan auras—like my Beast Core wanted me searching for food.

  Is it really this hard to control something that isn’t even a choice?

  Most people were pale glows like Aqua had described—soft and muted.

  But every now and then, my chest would hum faintly anyway.

  A tug.

  A scent.

  A reminder of what I’d done in the café and… what I’d done to Aqua.

  What I’d liked.

  What I’d hated liking.

  Aqua glanced up at me in the checkout line like she could tell my mind had drifted.

  “You okay?” she murmured.

  I nodded too fast.

  “Yeah,” I lied.

  Aqua didn’t argue.

  She just stayed close.

  And somehow that made it worse.

  Because close now meant my core noticed her.

  Not just her body.

  Her.

  The way her presence felt… warm, steady, alive.

  Like a lantern in fog.

  We left with bags.

  Katie nudged Aqua with her elbow lightly.

  “Can we go get coffee?” she asked. “One last normal thing before I go be Aunt Claire’s emotional support niece in Paris.”

  Aqua’s lips curved. “Yes.”

  Katie looked at me. “Steven?”

  The question wasn’t about coffee.

  It was:

  Are you coming?

  Are you staying with us?

  Are you still my brother and not whatever you’re becoming?

  I forced my face into something softer.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  ---

  The café bell chimed as we walked in.

  And the smell hit me immediately—coffee, pastries, cinnamon.

  Normal life in a cup.

  We slid into a booth by the window.

  Katie dropped the bags beside her like she owned the place.

  Aqua sat with graceful quiet beside me.

  And for one minute—just one minute—it felt like we were three people doing a normal thing.

  Then a couple walked in.

  Different faces from last time.

  Same energy.

  The guy teased the girl about something, and she laughed with her whole body—leaning into him without thinking, touching his arm like it was instinct.

  And the pink glow around them flared.

  My breath caught.

  My Beast Core stirred low, like a creature waking up in its den.

  Just one taste.

  The thought slid through me like a whisper I didn’t invite.

  I gripped my cup harder.

  Don’t.

  I stared down, willing my hands to stay still.

  But my vision kept tracking the glow anyway.

  I didn’t even realize I’d gone quiet until Katie’s voice cut in.

  “Steven,” she said. “You okay? You seem to be spacing out or something.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “The statue thing,” she said bluntly. “Where you freeze like your brain got unplugged.”

  Aqua’s gaze sharpened.

  She followed the direction of my stare—toward the couple.

  Then back to me.

  Understanding slid into her expression fast.

  Not fear.

  Not anger.

  Something calmer.

  Practical.

  Aqua leaned slightly closer—not touching me yet—and her voice dropped low enough that only I could hear.

  “Breathe with me,” she murmured.

  My throat tightened.

  “Aqua—”

  “Just breathe,” she repeated gently.

  I forced a breath in.

  It didn’t help.

  The pull stayed.

  Aqua’s eyes held mine.

  Then she did something subtle.

  So subtle I almost missed it.

  Her shoulders eased.

  Her posture softened.

  And something—something I couldn’t see with my eyes but felt under my skin—reached outward from her like warmth spreading through water.

  It wrapped around my chest.

  Around that hum under my ribs.

  Not blocking it.

  Not fighting it.

  Soothing it.

  Like she was laying a hand over a snarling animal’s head and telling it: I know you’re there. Be quiet.

  My breath came easier.

  The pull dulled from a scream to a whisper.

  I blinked, stunned.

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  Aqua’s lips barely moved. “You’re welcome,” she mouthed.

  Katie watched us with narrowed eyes.

  “What are you two doing?” she demanded. “Secret telepathy?”

  Aqua blinked. “No.”

  Katie pointed between us. “Yes.”

  I forced myself to look away from the couple.

  Forced my hands to unclench.

  Forced a shaky smile.

  “We’re fine,” I said. “Just… tired.”

  Katie huffed. “Well, don’t be weird on my last day here.”

  Aqua’s mouth twitched, amused.

  “I will try,” Aqua said politely.

  Katie stared at her like she didn’t know what to do with polite sarcasm.

  Then she snorted.

  And for a second, the café felt normal again.

  ---

  That night, Katie went to bed early.

  Not because she wanted to.

  Because exhaustion finally grabbed her by the throat.

  Aqua came to sit with me on the couch while I stared at nothing.

  Fang was coiled on my other side like a quiet sentry.

  Aqua sat beside me—not touching yet.

  Just present.

  The way she always was.

  I swallowed, throat tight.

  “Thanks again for earlier,” I said quietly.

  Aqua turned her head. “I was glad to help.”

  I leaned forward, clasping my hands.

  “Is it really this hard to control my hunger, Aqua?” I asked. “Will it get any easier?”

  Fang lifted his head slightly at my words.

  Aqua rested her hand on my thigh, pulling me back into the room. “I can’t say for sure,” she admitted. “But I believe most Salvatores just give in. Which is probably why they get out of control and get into trouble with the rest of the Four Families.”

  “You… you calmed it,” I said, and my mouth went sour around the words. “The pull.”

  Aqua’s gaze softened. “You needed my help. There is nothing wrong with needing help.”

  That hit too close.

  I hated that it did.

  I hated that her calm worked on me. Hated that my body listened to her better than it listened to me.

  And I didn’t want to look weaker in front of her—especially not when she was already carrying so much.

  “I’m going to bed,” I said quickly. “Tired after… all of this.”

  I couldn’t stop my weary face from showing, but I didn’t say more.

  Aqua hesitated like she wanted to, then decided against it.

  “All right,” she said softly. “Good night, Steven.”

  When she disappeared into her room and the door clicked shut, I fell onto my side and let out a long breath.

  “Why am I so weak-willed, Fang?” I muttered into the quiet.

  I knew he’d been listening.

  Fang’s voice seeped into my head, smooth as ever.

  You seem to be struggling, friend.

  “I know,” I said, irritation flaring because it felt obvious.

  If I didn’t know any better… I would think you needed a familiar.

  I sat up, ears perked. “A familiar? Like a magical companion?”

  You can call it that. In your case, I mean something more like a conduit.

  Fang’s gaze held mine—serious.

  To help you control your hunger and other Salvatore instincts.

  It was a tempting offer.

  But Fang… being my familiar?

  The thought felt strange in my chest.

  Fang continued, quieter now.

  I might be your friend, Steven… but I can help you. Let me. Please.

  He sounded adamant.

  Like he’d decided this was the only way forward.

  I stared at him for a long beat.

  Then I exhaled.

  “Okay, Fang,” I whispered. “You win.”

  My throat tightened as I said it.

  “How do we make you my familiar?”

  Next Chapter: Steven and Fang seal the bond and family farewells.