The vial felt heavy in my pocket.
Too heavy for a simple piece of glass.
It was a secret.
And I had just gotten my hands on it.
I left the hallway without a word.
They thought I was just a kid?
Perfect.
I climbed the stairs slowly, my heart beating with a cold, precise kind of anger. The kind that opens your eyes instead of closing them.
When I reached the landing, I should've turned right.
Toward my room.
Instead, my steps carried me left.
Toward my sister's room.
The door was slightly open.
Light spilled across the hallway floor in a pale strip.
I stopped.
I wasn't going to spy.
Not really.
But something still held me there.
Inside, Gabriel was sitting beside the bed.
He wasn't speaking.
He was watching her.
Avery moved in her sleep, restless, like she was trying to escape a place that existed only for her.
And him…
He was looking at her like she could disappear in the next second.
He leaned closer and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers grazing her cheek with a gentleness that was almost painful to witness.
A tender gesture.
Protective.
Far too intimate for someone who had only just entered our lives.
I stayed frozen behind the door.
They barely knew each other.
Barely.
So why did he look like a man who had already lived through losing her?
Why did that fear look like a memory?
A shiver ran through me.
Because that look…
I'd seen it before.
Mom had the same one.
Dad did too.
Every time they looked at Avery, it was like they were watching the edge of a cliff.
And me?
I'd been pretending not to understand.
But lately, it was becoming impossible to ignore.
I slipped a hand into my pocket.
My fingers closed around the vial.
I wasn't stupid.
I'd seen Mom's silences.
Her rushed lies.
Her excuses that came too fast.
And this hadn't started yesterday.
It began after Dad died.
After that, something shifted in our family.
In her.
The whispered phone calls.
The disappearances.
The exhaustion in her eyes.
The way she checked the doors and windows like something might get in.
At first, I blamed it on grief.
But no.
She was preparing.
For what?
I was starting to get an idea.
Inside the room, Gabriel murmured something I couldn't hear.
But the tone—I understood that perfectly.
He was scared.
Really scared.
For my sister.
I took a step back.
The floor creaked.
His gaze snapped immediately toward the door.
Alert.
Ready to move if he had to.
I held my breath.
But I didn't move.
---
Gabriel's gaze never left me.
He'd heard me.
Of course he had.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then he stood up.
Slowly.
Without taking his eyes off Avery for too long, like he was calculating the risk of simply moving away from her.
He took a few steps toward the door.
Toward me.
Great.
Awesome.
Plan A: run.
Plan B: pretend I was just passing by like a complete idiot.
Too late for both.
He opened the door.
— Daniel.
Not aggressive.
Not surprised either.
Like he'd known I was there the whole time.
I straightened in the doorway.
— Hey.
Yeah.
Brilliant.
Nobel Prize for conversation.
His gaze flicked behind me for a second, checking the hallway, before stepping out and quietly closing the bedroom door behind him.
I cast one last glance at Avery as the door shut.
She was still moving.
Even asleep, she didn't look safe.
I sighed, then turned my attention back to Gabriel.
Up close, he carried that strange presence—solid, almost too calm to be honest.
— So… how is she? I asked.
He barely hesitated.
— According to your mother, she's fine.
Wrong answer.
I crossed my arms.
— And what do you think?
He slipped his hands into his pockets.
A nervous gesture. Human.
That surprised me.
— Lauren's the expert, he said at first.
Then, after a second:
— But I'd say she's safe for now.
For now.
I mentally noted the phrase.
Absolutely terrifying.
A small silence settled between us.
The awkward, heavy kind where nobody really knows what position to take.
The first time we talked, I'd thrown a thousand questions at him without thinking, and he'd been nice about it.
Simple.
But now…
this was different.
We weren't in the getting-to-know-each-other category anymore.
— Gabriel… do you mind if we drop the formalities? I asked.
Considering I already had.
One corner of his mouth moved.
Almost a smile.
— Not at all.
I nodded.
Okay.
— Then tell me what happened.
Direct.
No detours.
Something shifted slightly in his gaze.
Not closed off.
But careful.
He searched for his words.
And I saw the exact moment he decided not to tell me the truth.
Not completely.
— Something tried to hurt her, he finally said.
My heart jolted.
— Tried?
— Yes.
He held my gaze.
— And it failed.
That was reassuring.
It should've been.
But if it failed…
why did everyone look like they were expecting it to happen again?
I tilted my head.
— That wasn't a panic attack.
It wasn't a question.
Gabriel exhaled softly.
— No.
Thank you.
Finally, someone honest.
Halfway honest.
I ran a hand through my hair.
— What is it? And it's going to happen again, right?
Silence.
He didn't answer.
And that was more than enough.
A humorless laugh escaped me.
— Great. Awesome. I love when my life feels like a movie nobody wants to give me the script for.
To my surprise, that almost made him smile.
Almost.
Then he grew serious again.
— I understand that you want answers.
Ah.
He speaks my language.
— But right now, what matters is that she rests.
Translation: not now.
I stared at him for another second.
Trying to see if he thought I was an idiot.
No.
Actually, the opposite.
He looked at me like someone who knew I was going to keep digging.
And maybe wasn't going to stop me.
Interesting.
I nodded slowly.
— If she needs anything… I'm here.
It came out on its own.
Not sarcastic.
Not funny.
Just true.
Gabriel held my gaze.
And this time, he nodded too.
A silent agreement.
Between us.
I took a step back.
— Goodnight.
— Goodnight, Daniel.
I turned away.
But one certainty kept pounding in my head.
They could keep their secrets.
Not for much longer.
---