Three months after the rooftop meeting.
Ashen had always been good at reading people.
It was one of those things that came naturally, like everything else. Body language, tone shifts, and the micro-expressions that flashed across faces before people remembered to mask them.
With Alice, though, it was different.
She didn't have tells in the normal sense. She was too controlled for that, too practiced at shutting down.
But he'd been watching her long enough to notice the habits she couldn't hide.
The way she flinched when anyone raised their voice, even slightly.
The way she always positioned herself near exits.
The way she wore long sleeves even in summer.
And the way she never, ever talked about going home.
He'd suspected for weeks. Today, he confirmed it.
⛧
After school
Ashen kept his distance, staying just far enough back that she wouldn't notice.
Not that she was paying attention. Alice walked with her head down, shoulders tight, like she was bracing for something.
When she reached a small, run-down place on the edge of town, she paused at the door.
For a long moment, she just stood there.
Then she went inside.
Ashen moved closer, keeping to the shadows.
He didn't have to wait long.
CRASH!
The sound of glass shattering. A man's voice, slurred and furious, shouting words that made Ashen's jaw clench.
Then, there was Alice's voice, quiet and careful. "I'm sorry. I'll clean it up—"
"Sorry?! You think sorry fixes anything?! You're just like her! Just like that bitch who left me with you!"
Another crash. This time, Ashen heard Alice cry out.
His hands curled into fists.
⛧
The next day - School rooftop.
"Your father hits you."
Alice froze, her fingers hovering over her laptop keyboard.
Ashen sat down beside her, his expression calm but his eyes hard.
"Don't bother denying it," he continued. "I followed you home yesterday. I heard him."
For a long moment, Alice said nothing.
Then, quietly: "It's not your problem."
"Yes, it is."
She finally looked at him. "Why?"
"Because you're mine now." His tone was so casual it sounded less like a confession and more like a line from a badly written drama. "And I don't let people hurt what's mine."
It was the kind of thing that would make anyone older than twelve cringe into another dimension. Unfortunately for humanity, Alice was still twelve, and her heart decided to sprint a marathon.
Her breath hitched. "Ashen—"
"We're getting rid of him."
"What?"
"Your father." Ashen's voice was almost casual. "We're getting rid of him. Legally, obviously. I'm not stupid. But he's not touching you again."
"You can't just—"
"I can. We will." He turned to face her fully. "And you're going to help me."
For the first time since he'd known her, Alice looked genuinely shaken.
"...How?" she whispered.
Ashen smiled. "I'm glad you asked."
⛧
The plan took shape over the next two weeks.
Ashen had done his research. To get Alice's father out of her life permanently, they needed undeniable evidence of abuse. The kind that would make police intervention immediate and adoption impossible to contest.
But there was a problem: Alice's father was careful. He never left marks where teachers could see them, and he was smart enough to keep his violence contained to the home.
They needed to catch him in the act.
But Ashen refused to let Alice be the bait.
So he came up with something else.
Something crazy.
Something that would only work because both of them were smart enough, determined enough, and just wild enough to pull it off.
⛧
Two weeks later.
Alice sat in Ashen's room, watching him adjust the wig in the mirror.
It was surreal.
He'd bought it with his competition winnings—a perfect match for her hair color and length. Combined with careful makeup application and the right clothes, the resemblance was… uncanny.
"You really think this will work?" she asked quietly.
Ashen turned, and for a moment, Alice felt like she was looking at a mirror.
"It'll work," he said, his voice filtered through the voice modulator they'd built together. It replicated her tone perfectly. "We've tested everything. The cameras are in place. The wireless connection is stable. All we need now is to trigger him."
"And if he realizes it's not me?"
"He won't." Ashen's confidence was absolute. "He'll be drunk and angry—a combination that doesn't leave much room for realizations. Don't worry, he won't look closely enough to notice."
Alice stood, walking over to adjust the collar of the shirt he was wearing; her shirt.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked softly.
Ashen met her eyes through the mirror. "Because you deserve better. And because I can."
It was the simplest answer in the world.
And somehow, it was also the rarest.
⛧
Ashen approached Alice's house at 10 PM, when he knew her father would be deep into his drinking.
Alice was safe at his house with his parents, who thought she was staying over for a study session.
The hidden cameras they'd installed were recording. The wireless feed was streaming directly to Alice's laptop, backed up to three separate cloud servers.
Everything was in place.
Ashen took a breath, adjusted the wig one last time, and walked through the front door.
Alice's father was in the living room, surrounded by empty bottles.
He looked up, bleary-eyed. "You're late."
Ashen kept his head down, letting the voice modulator do its work. "Sorry."
"Sorry." The man stood, swaying slightly. "That's all you ever say. Sorry, sorry, sorry."
He took a step forward.
Ashen took a step back, leading him toward the hallway where the cameras had the best angle.
"You know what your mother said before she left?" The man's voice was rising. "Sorry…! …But she also said you ruined her life. That having you was the worst mistake she ever made."
Ashen said nothing, just kept backing up.
"And you know what? She was right."
The man lunged.
Ashen dodged, but not fast enough—or rather, not dodging completely, letting the man's hand catch his shoulder and shove him against the wall.
"You think you're so smart, don't you?!" The man was screaming now, his face twisted with rage. "Just like her! Thinking you're better than me!"
BANG!
His fist slammed into the wall next to Ashen's head.
Then came the litany of abuse… every vile thing a parent should never say, caught in crystal-clear audio.
Ashen endured it for exactly five minutes.
Long enough for the cameras to capture everything.
…And long enough for evidence that no court could ignore.
Then he ducked under the man's arm and ran, leaving through the back door before the man could get a clear look at his face.
⛧
Three days later.
The police came the next morning.
The evidence was damning. Video, audio, timestamps. Everything was documented and backed up.
Alice's father was arrested within hours.
By the end of the week, Alice was placed in temporary foster care while the case proceeded.
By the end of the month, parental rights were terminated.
And three weeks after that, Ashen's parents—after much discussion and seeing the bond between the two—agreed to take Alice in until she turned eighteen.
It happened so fast it felt like a dream.
One day, Alice was living in fear.
The next, she was free.
⛧
Alice sat on the bed in her new room, staring at the walls.
It was clean, safe, and quiet. It was everything she had ever wished for.
No shouting… no breaking glass… And no waiting for the next outburst. Just like her dream home…
Just… peace.
A knock on the door. "Can I come in?" Ashen's voice rang through.
"Yes."
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. For a moment, they just looked at each other.
Then Alice stood and crossed the room in three steps.
She wrapped her arms around him and held on tight.
"Thank you," she whispered against his shoulder. "Thank you, thank you, thank you—"
"You don't have to thank me."
"Yes, I do." She pulled back just enough to look at him, and for the first time in years, there were tears in her eyes. "You saved me. You didn't have to, but you did. You put yourself at risk for me. You—"
"Alice." Ashen's hands came up to cup her face, thumbs brushing away the tears. "You're mine. Of course I did."
And in that moment, Alice understood.
This wasn't just some friendship or kindness.
This went beyond that… This was… devotion.
And she felt it too; that fierce, overwhelming need to keep him close, to never let him go, to make sure he knew that he was just as important to her as she was to him.
'I love him,' she realized. Not the crush kind of love, nor the admiration kind.
But the forever kind.
The kind that didn't wither.
The kind that would endure anything.