Olivia's POV
We drove like the night was chasing us, headlights slicing through the dark like they were trying to outrun what we'd just discovered. No one spoke. Not even Luke, who usually cracked jokes just to kill the silence. But this silence? It was different. Heavy. It sat in the car like an unwelcome passenger.
Sebastian hadn't let go of the file. Not once. He held it like it was a lifeline—or maybe like it was a bomb, and he didn't know when it would go off.
We were both in it.
Both part of Project ECHO.
Both... used.
My stomach churned every time I thought about the words scribbled under our names: Emotional neglect. Physical trauma. Suicidal ideation. Parental ignorance.
We were six years old.
Luke's car slowed as he turned onto my street, and I saw them—two figures standing by the porch, arms crossed in the porchlight like shadows waiting to strike.
My parents.
My heart stopped.
Sebastian reached over, gently lacing his fingers with mine. His voice was soft, steady. "Let me go with you."
I nodded.
We stepped out together. Luke didn't move. Eve's eyes followed us, jaw clenched like she wanted to bolt after us but knew this was our fight.
"Olivia!" Dad's voice cut the air like a whip. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
I froze. Sebastian moved a half step closer, protective.
"I told you," Dad shouted, stepping off the porch, "stay away from the Pattersons! How many times do we have to say it?"
I didn't move. "He's my friend," I said, my voice trembling but clear. "And I'm not going to stop seeing him just because you don't like it."
"Friend?" he sneered. "Is that what this is?"
And then, without warning, he reached forward and yanked Sebastian's hand from mine.
"Don't you touch her!" he snapped.
Sebastian jerked back, startled, then stepped between us. His voice was cold. Dangerous. "Don't lay a hand on me. Or her."
"Oh, you've got some nerve," Dad growled. "I am talking to my daughter" he told me
I stepped forward, facing my dad fully now. "Are we being filmed?" I asked flatly. "Is this some kind of performance? You should've warned me, Dad. Because if I remember correctly, I'm not your daughter—I'm just a burden you keep hidden behind closed doors."
"Olivia," he barked, "don't talk to me like that!"
"Why not?" I snapped. "It's the only time you ever listen. When you're angry. When you're ashamed of me. So let me make it easier: stop pretending you care when the neighbors are watching. Just admit it. You care more about your reputation than me."
He stepped closer, furious now. "You've changed. He's changed you."
"No," I said. "He's the reason I finally opened my eyes. He showed me what love actually looks like. Not fear. Not silence. Not control."
"Enough!" he roared. "You're coming inside, and we're ending this!"
"I'm not going anywhere!" I shouted. "You don't get to control who I care about. Not anymore."
"You listen to me—" he started, but Sebastian cut him off, stepping forward.
"You don't get to talk to her like that," he said, voice low and tight. "You don't get to take her pain and twist it. You weren't there. You didn't see her crying alone. I did. And I won't let you break her again."
My father's face twisted in fury. "You think you're some hero? I'll make one call and your father will have you on your knees."
"No," I said, panicking. "You can't. You don't know what he'll do—"
Sebastian looked at me, calm even as I was falling apart. "It's okay, Liv," he said gently. Then, turning to my father: "You want to call him? Fine. Do it. But you're not taking her from me. Not again."
He reached out, brushed my hair behind my ear, and kissed my forehead. "Don't worry about me," he murmured. "I'll see you tomorrow."
And with that, he gave my father one last look—burning, defiant—and walked away.
I stood frozen in the driveway as the silence collapsed into something worse.
"Phone," Dad said.
I didn't move.
"Now."
I took it out with shaking fingers and handed it to him.
"You're grounded. No phone. No internet. No outside contact. And if you even think about seeing him again, we'll take you out of this school. Out of this city. You'll go wherever we go. Permanently."
He turned and walked inside without waiting for me. My mother followed like a silent ghost.
And me?
They locked me in my room.
No calls. No messages. No freedom.
I slid down the wall and sat there, knees pulled to my chest, biting my lip until it bled just to stop the sobs from spilling out.
I was alone. Again.
But even as the dark closed in around me, even as the walls became too quiet, one thing still pulsed like a heartbeat in my mind.
You can't take her away from me.
And God help me, I hoped he was right.
Sebastian's POV
Three days.
Three fucking days.
No call. No text. Not even a damn emoji.
I'd paced holes in my room, practically tore the lock off my phone waiting for a buzz that never came. I knew it. I knew that bastard took her phone. And if he did more than that—if he yelled at her, locked her up, laid a hand on her—I swear to God I'd bury him.
She was the only good thing left in my life. And I couldn't breathe without her.
So here I was. Climbing up to her goddamn window like a maniac in the middle of the night. A lovesick idiot with bruises under my shirt and rage boiling under my skin.
I reached her window and knocked once. Nothing.
"Liv…" I whispered and knocked again, harder.
The curtain moved. Then her face—God, her face. She looked like she'd seen a ghost. Her mouth parted, her eyes wide.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she whispered sharply.
I gave her a lopsided grin despite the thunder in my chest. "Well, I was planning to serenade you, but I figured the climbing part might impress you more. Can I come in before I fall and break my pretty face?"
Her eyes blinked rapidly. "Oh my God—sorry, wait—" She yanked the window open, grabbed my arm, and practically pulled me inside.
And then she hugged me. Hard. Her arms wrapped around me like she was trying to fuse us together.
"I missed you," she breathed. "I missed you, I missed you, I—"
"Shhh, I know. I'm here now." I buried my face in her neck, inhaling her like oxygen. "I missed you too, Liv. Every second."
She pulled back, hands still clinging to my shirt. Her eyes were red. Her lip trembling. "I thought—"
"I know." I pressed my forehead to hers. "Me too."
Then—she reached for my shirt.
"Whoa, Liv—if you're that excited to see me, maybe I should've climbed in earlier—"
She shot me a look.
Not just a glare. That look.
Dead serious. Pure fire.
And just like that, my smirk vanished. "Okay… shutting up now."
She lifted the fabric and froze. The bruise on my side, dark purple and yellow, was still raw. She touched it like it might vanish if she was gentle enough.
Her breath hitched.
"Sebastian…"
"It's fine," I lied. My voice was soft, shaky. "It's nothing."
"Don't you dare say that." Her voice cracked. Her fingertips traced the edge of the bruise like it might split her too. "He did this to you?"
I swallowed. Couldn't lie again. "Yeah."
A tear rolled down her cheek. "I wasn't there. I should've protected you—"
"No." I cupped her face, my thumb brushing her skin. "You don't get to say that. You are the only reason I'm surviving this shit. You're the reason I haven't lost myself."
She was crying now, silent and broken. I kissed her forehead, trying to anchor her.
"I know it's bad. I know it's unfair. But we're not gonna let them win. You hear me?" I whispered against her skin. "We're gonna get out. I'll take you away from here. You and me. Somewhere no one knows our names. Just a little longer, Liv. I'm close to figuring things out."
"You promise?" she choked.
"I swear on every scar." I took her hand and placed it over my heart. "I'm yours. And I'm not letting go."
She leaned in again, resting her forehead against mine voice barely there. "I just want you safe."
"And I just want you free."
We didn't kiss right away. We just stood there, breathing the same air, holding on like we were the only solid things left in the world.
Then she kissed me. Soft at first, like she was afraid I'd break. I deepened it slowly, pulling her close, letting my hands tangle in her hair. She melted into me, like everything inside her had been waiting for this—to feel, to breathe, to stop pretending she wasn't breaking too.
The world faded. Her mouth, her tears, her warmth—this was home.
But I couldn't stay. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But if her dad found me here—
I pulled back, chest aching. "I have to go. For now. Just for a little while longer. Be strong, Liv. We're almost at the end of this nightmare. You just have to hold on."
She nodded, wiping at her cheeks. "Just… please. Don't get hurt again. I can't—I won't survive it."
I brushed my fingers against her jaw, one last time. "Hey… I'm tougher than I look."
"You look like you got tackled by a truck."
"Yeah, but did you see the truck?" I grinned. "You should check on it. Might be in worse shape."
She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile hiding in the corners of her lips. That was enough.
"I'll be back," I said softly, climbing toward the window again. "And when I come back next time, I'm not leaving without you."
She nodded, trying to be brave, even as her eyes shimmered with fresh tears.
"I'll see you soon," I promised, climbing back out the window. "Don't forget—we're in this together."
And as I disappeared into the dark, I held onto that one truth tighter than anything else:
I'd burn the world down before I let them take her from me again.
The wind bit at my face as I raced down the road, my thoughts still tangled with Liv's voice, her tears, her kiss. I couldn't stop shaking—not from cold, but from the rage still boiling in my veins. I needed answers. I needed to do something.
By the time I slipped into the house through the back door, it was nearly 2 a.m.
The place was dead silent. Dad was out—some late-night meeting or whatever the hell he did when he disappeared in that suit and came back smelling like secrets.
Perfect.
I locked the door behind me and headed straight for his office.
That goddamn file had barely scratched the surface. There had to be more. There had to be.
I flicked on the small desk lamp, opened the hidden drawer behind the bookshelf, and started digging. Papers, USBs, photos. My fingers trembled as I pulled them out one by one, trying to find the thread that would unravel this nightmare.
Then—
A noise behind me.
I turned.
And froze.
He was standing in the doorway.
The man from the park. The one who threatened Liv.
"Vince," I growled.
He stepped into the light. Same black coat. Same dead eyes.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I snarled, stepping between him and the desk. "How dare you go near Olivia?"
His expression didn't flinch. Not even a blink. "Calm down, Sebastian."
"Don't tell me to calm down." My voice cracked through the room like a whip. "You think threatening her is some kind of game?"
"I was trying to protect her," he said. "Just like I'm trying to protect you."
"Bullshit." I stepped forward, fists clenched. "You don't threaten someone to protect them. You just scare them. Like he does."
Vince exhaled, rubbing his temples like I was a stubborn kid throwing a tantrum. "You're playing with fire. And if you keep digging, you're going to burn everything around you—including her."
"Then let it burn!" I shouted, chest heaving. "You think I care? I'd rather go down knowing the truth than live in the dark like a goddamn puppet."
"You don't understand what you're getting into." His voice was low now. Gravel and warning. "You think this is just about files and experiments? I've seen what this thing does to people. I've lived it. I've lost more than you can ever imagine."
"You think you've lost more than me?" I barked a humorless laugh. "Try watching your mother disappear without a word. Try surviving your father's fists like they're clockwork. Try falling in love when every minute you're terrified she'll be taken from you too. Don't stand there and talk to me about loss."
A pause. Heavy.
Then Vince's voice dropped to a whisper. "Your mother wasn't just a victim, Sebastian. She was part of it. Part of Project ECHO."
My stomach dropped.
"What…?" I whispered.
"She tried to stop it. She tried to run. And she died for it." He took a step closer, his face finally cracking—just a bit. "You think you're angry now? Wait until you know what they really did to you."
"I want to know," I said, voice shaking. "I have to know."
"No, you don't." His voice was sharp now. "You want revenge. You want something to punch. But this… this isn't a fight you win with fists. This is war. And no one walks away clean."
I stared at him. My whole body shaking. "Then why are you here, Vince? Why the hell do you care?"
His eyes burned. "Because I made the same mistake once. I didn't listen. I went looking for answers." He paused. "And I watched the person I loved most die screaming for me."
Silence.
And then:
"I'm not you," I said coldly. "And Liv is not going to die."
"You sure about that?" Vince said softly. "Because the closer you get to the truth, the more you put her in the center of it."
"She's already in it," I hissed. "Because of you. Because of them. The least I can do is drag this thing into the light."
He looked at me for a long moment. Then stepped back. "You want to play with fire?" he murmured. "Fine. Let me tell you a story. And maybe, just maybe, it'll be enough to make you back off before it's too late."
I didn't move. Didn't speak.
But I knew—deep down—I wouldn't back off. Not now.
Let the fire come.
Let it all burn.