Chapter 31: Unspoken Words
The heavy thud of the hatch locking behind them signaled the first real moment of safety since the world started unraveling.
Bright released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His shoulders slumped slightly, but the tension in his chest didn't fade.
Emily's grip on his hand remained firm, her fingers curled around his like she was afraid to let go. He didn't pull away.
His gaze swept across the room.
It was… extravagant.
Too extravagant.
The walls were lined with sleek, polished stone, the lighting soft and ambient, casting a warm glow across the semi-circular formation of plush sofas and couches. The space was a strange mix of a luxurious underground lounge and a war room.
Mr. Carter strode forward and sank into the center sofa, his posture regal despite the exhaustion that clung to his movements. Michael clung to his side like a leech, his presence almost possessive.
Mrs. Carter settled into an adjacent seat with Elijah at her side. She looked pale, her grip on Elijah's arm just a little too tight.
Brolly, the tattooed man, flopped onto a couch of his own, stretching out like he had no care in the world.
Meanwhile, Bright, Emily, and Franklin remained standing.
The silence stretched between them like a thread pulled too tight.
Bright felt out of place.
More than ever.
He wasn't part of this.
This wasn't his family.
Finally, Mr. Carter exhaled, rubbing his temple before speaking.
"Franklin, take the kids away." His voice held no room for argument.
"Yes, sir."
Franklin's tone was even, respectful, but firm.
He turned on his heel and walked to one side of the room, where he pressed his hand against a seemingly ordinary stone tile.
With a low hiss, a hidden door shifted into existence.
Bright's brows shot up.
The hell?
Emily and Elijah also looked mildly surprised, though not nearly as much as Bright. Had they known about this place?
Without another word, Franklin began descending the narrow stairway leading underground.
Bright felt Emily's grip tighten again.
She still wasn't letting go.
She didn't say anything, but her silence spoke volumes.
She was anxious.
And for some reason, she was holding onto him like he was some kind of anchor.
Why?
The thought burned at the back of his mind, but Bright didn't have the energy to think about it now.
He just followed Franklin down the stairs.
---
The Underground Quarters
The descent was short but suffocating.
By the time they reached the bottom, Bright was sure he had inhaled enough cold, filtered air to last him a lifetime.
The hallway was long and lined with six evenly spaced doors, three on each side.
It was bigger than he expected—spacious, but still too closed in for his liking.
Franklin came to a stop and gestured to the rooms.
"Little girl. Elijah." His voice softened slightly. "Pick whichever room you like."
Emily didn't even flinch at the nickname. Instead, she tilted her head at Franklin, her expression unreadable.
"How do we open them?"
Franklin wordlessly reached into his coat pocket and pulled out three identical keys, the only difference being the numbers engraved onto them.
Emily stepped forward and plucked them from his hand.
Then, much to Bright's utter confusion, she hugged Franklin like a spoiled child seeing a cherished relative after a long time.
Bright felt his stomach twist.
He wasn't sure why.
But he didn't like it.
Not one bit.
Franklin actually smiled—well, if you could call the slight twitch of his lips a smile. He patted Emily's head once before stepping back.
"Take care." His tone was softer than before, almost affectionate.
Then, without another word, he turned and left.
The door at the top of the stairs shut with a dull click behind him.
Bright and Elijah exhaled at the same time.
Elijah muttered first, "That guy is so damn scary."
Bright didn't disagree.
Elijah turned to Emily, frowning. "And why aren't you scared of him?"
Emily didn't respond.
Instead, she turned toward Bright.
And stared.
Really stared.
Like she was trying to read his mind.
Bright's mouth went dry.
What was she thinking?
Her gaze was intense—too intense.
A storm brewing behind her dark eyes.
Bright felt like he was being cornered by something he couldn't name.
He looked down, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, then his cheek.
Then, before she could say whatever was on her mind, Bright snatched one of the keys from her hand.
"I feel drained," he muttered. His voice sounded too rough, like something was caught in his throat.
He forced himself to turn away.
"I'm off to sleep. Let's chat tomorrow, okay?"
He didn't wait for a response.
He just walked to the door with the matching number and shut it behind him.
---
A Room Too Empty
The second the door closed, Bright leaned against it, exhaling sharply.
His hands curled into tight fists at his sides.
His chest felt weird.
Like something was pushing against it.
He didn't know why.
He didn't know what was wrong with him.
Maybe it was exhaustion.
Maybe it was the sudden realization that he wasn't actually part of this family.
For the past few days, things had been chaotic, but Emily had always been there.
Teasing him. Dragging him into things. Acting like he belonged.
But now?
Watching her mother hold her. Watching her talk with her family, fit in so naturally. Watching Franklin treat her like she mattered—
Bright had never felt so out of place.
Like an outsider watching from the window of a home he could never enter.
The thought made something inside him ache.
He clenched his jaw.
He wasn't supposed to care about this.
He wasn't supposed to care about belonging.
He was a nobody.
A street rat. An orphan. A throwaway.
So why…
Why did it hurt?
Bright ran a hand down his face and pushed himself off the door.
The room was small but comfortable. A single bed. A nightstand. A storage locker.
It was more than enough.
So why did it feel empty?
He shook his head and collapsed onto the bed.
This is stupid.
Go to sleep.
---
Outside the Room
Emily stared at the closed door.
Her grip on the two remaining keys tightened.
Her chest felt weird, but she couldn't quite place why.
Elijah sighed beside her.
"Is he mad at you?"
Emily didn't answer.
Because she didn't know.
Elijah rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm tired too." He grabbed one of the keys and walked off to his own room.
Emily stood there for a while longer.
Her fingers curled around the last key, her brows furrowing.
She had been meaning to talk to him.
To really talk.
But he had just shut down.
And that bothered her.
After a long moment, she sighed.
Fine.
Let him sulk.
They could talk tomorrow.
For now, she needed sleep.
With one last glance at Bright's door, Emily turned and entered her own room.