Olivia's POV
Vince stood in front of us—me, Luke, Eve, and Sebastian. His face was unreadable, locked down in that calm-before-a-storm expression I'd learned to dread.
"We're going underground," he said. "Immediately."
No one asked why. We didn't need to.
"They've issued a BOLO," Vince went on. "National. Your faces are all over every agency list—especially Olivia and Sebastian. CCTV footage from that alley near the train station caught you with Anika."
I felt my stomach twist, hard and cold.
Anika.
Anika wasn't just some missing person. She was the proof. A living woman who work very close to ECHO, helping them for the most unethical trials—an experiment they were never supposed to talk about, much less continue. But they had. And they'd tried to silence her now because we have kidnapped her so now not only our life is in danger but also Anika's too
"They're saying we kidnapped her," Vince said. "Disappeared her after using her to stage the leaks. It's all over the networks. And with Cole's financial records exposed, they're trying to flip the narrative—call it a coordinated political hit job."
Luke let out a bitter scoff. "So now we're the criminals."
"Exactly," Vince said. "They're twisting the truth into knots. They're pushing the story that we doctored the evidence, framed Cole, and abducted a mentally unstable woman for sympathy. And unfortunately... the public's buying it."
I could feel the pulse in my neck. A tight heat built behind my eyes, but I forced it down. If I let myself cry every time the truth got twisted, I wouldn't have anything left.
"Even with the financial data?" Eve asked, voice tense.
"They're saying it was fabricated," Vince said. "That it came from a corrupted whistleblower pipeline. That it was revenge for Cole voting against a surveillance bill."
He ran a hand through his hair, looked more tired than I'd seen him in days. "Doesn't matter that it's true. Doesn't matter that we traced offshore wire transfers and dark money trails straight to Peterson's old PAC. They're drowning the signal in noise."
I glanced toward Sebastian.
He stood near the window, fists clenched so tight I could see the tremble in his arms. His jaw was locked, his eyes staring through the glass like he could set the world on fire if he looked hard enough.
"We hurt them," Vince said. "Peterson's losing grip. But now he's fully involved. And when he takes over, it's not about politics anymore—it's about erasing us."
"Permanently," I said, my voice quieter than I expected.
But Vince heard me. He nodded.
He pulled a burner phone from his jacket and placed it on the table like it was made of lead. "This is our last contact line. We shut everything down after tonight. No more phones. No messages. No digital traces."
He looked around the room—at all of us—and his voice dropped. "We vanish. We wait. Then we hit back."
He paused at the door, one hand on the knob. His eyes met mine for just a second longer than the rest.
"Be ready," he said. "They won't stop now."
And then he was gone.
The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence that followed felt a little sharper. Like everything was holding its breath again. Like the whole house knew we were about to disappear.
At night I'd gone into the kitchen for some water, but found myself drifting toward the faint glow coming from the living room. Some part of me already knew who I'd find there.
Luke was on the couch, curled slightly forward, arms resting on his knees, staring into space. No screen. No music. Just him, surrounded by shadows.
It made me pause.
Luke was never like this. He was the one who joked about everything, who made stupid faces just to make Eve roll her eyes, who danced like a lunatic when we were too tense to move. But now... he looked hollow. Not broken, but dimmed. Like someone had taken the color out of him.
I moved slowly, sitting beside him without saying anything. The air between us was soft, still heavy, but less alone.
"You've been quiet lately," I said, keeping my voice low. "Quieter than usual. That's not like you."
He didn't look at me. Just gave a faint shrug. "Didn't think anyone noticed."
"I did."
A pause. He let out a breath, not sharp, just tired. "I guess I've just been... off."
I waited. Sometimes people just needed space to find the words.
"It's weird," he said after a moment. "I've always been the one keeping things light. You know? Laughing, distracting everyone when things get dark. But lately... I don't know. It feels like I'm trying to find something that isn't there anymore."
My heart pulled a little. I'd seen it—the smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. The jokes that came too late. The silence that followed him like a second skin.
"You don't always have to be the one holding everyone else up," I told him. "You're allowed to feel heavy sometimes too."
He looked at me, really looked, and there was something raw in his eyes. Not broken. Just... tired in a way that didn't show on the outside.
"I guess I didn't want to bring anyone down," he murmured.
"You're not," I said. "Letting people in isn't weakness, Luke. You don't have to smile to matter."
He didn't answer, but something in his shoulders eased.
Then he leaned into me, slow, like he wasn't sure if it was okay. His head came to rest against my shoulder, warm and familiar. I didn't move. I just stayed there, letting him rest. Letting him be.
His breathing began to slow. One minute passed. Then another.
He fell asleep.
I looked down at him, at the way his features softened in sleep—young and peaceful in a way I hadn't seen in days.
Carefully, I pulled the blanket from around my own shoulders and draped it over him, tucking it around his arms and legs. He didn't stir.
I stayed with him for a while, listening to the quiet. Watching the shadows stretch long on the walls.
After I tucked the blanket around Luke and brushed a hand over his hair, I stood there a moment, just watching him breathe. He looked more peaceful asleep than he had awake. But the worry lingered in me.
I make my way to my room. Seb was long asleep
I pushed the door open gently.
He was on the bed, twisted in the sheets, his body soaked with sweat. His breathing was fast—too fast. Shallow. Erratic. His arms jerked every few seconds like he was fighting something that wasn't there. A low, broken sound escaped his throat.
Then—he whimpered. "No."
My heart clenched.
"Seb?" I whispered.
He didn't respond.
His whole body jolted suddenly, like something had shocked him. His face twisted in pain. His fists clenched in the blankets. "Please—no, don't—I said I'll be good—I said—"
My chest squeezed. He wasn't dreaming. He was reliving.
His voice cracked again, high and terrified. "Stop—please—stop—Dad—"
That broke me.
"Seb." I stepped forward, heart pounding. I reached out before I could think better of it, gently placing my hand on his shoulder.
It happened in a blur.
He lunged.
His arm swung with brute force—pure instinct, blind defense. His palm slammed into my chest, and I flew backward, crashing hard into the nightstand. Pain shot through my side, hot and sharp, and I let out a gasp as I hit the floor.
The lamp toppled. Something shattered.
He sat up with a violent start, chest heaving, wild-eyed. Sweat clung to his skin. He was blinking fast, trying to separate dream from reality.
And then he saw me—curled on the floor, clutching my ribs.
"Liv," he breathed. His voice cracked like a splintering bone. "Oh god—Liv—"
He scrambled toward me, hands shaking, but he stopped short. "I—I didn't mean to—I didn't know—I thought—"
"I'm okay," I managed, wincing as I sat up. "It's okay, Seb."
"No, you're not." His eyes were wide and glistening, like the weight of what he'd done had just landed on his chest. "I hurt you. I told myself I'd never—never again—"
"It wasn't you," I said softly, reaching for him. "You weren't here. You were back there."
I pushed myself up slowly, wincing. "It's okay. You're safe."
His hands trembled as he dropped to his knees beside me. "I can't—this keeps happening. The nightmares. The voice... my father's voice."
"I'm right here," I whispered. "You're safe now."
His voice cracked. "He told me pain would make me stronger. That I was worthless if I didn't obey."
My heart shattered.
I reached for his cold hand, squeezing it gently. "You're here now. None of that's real anymore."
He looked at me like I was a lifeline. "But I hurt you."
"I'm fine." I shifted closer. "You didn't mean to. And you stopped the second you woke up."
"That doesn't change what I did."
I cupped his cheek gently. "You were scared. That wasn't you—it was the fear, the trauma, the monster he turned you into. And you're not that monster, Seb. You never were."
He blinked hard, like he didn't believe it—but wanted to.
And then, she kissed him.
Then, slowly, I leaned forward and kissed him.
It wasn't like before. It wasn't fierce or hungry. It was soft, steady—like a promise. His lips trembled against mine. He kissed me like he was terrified he might shatter me.
But I didn't pull away.
Eventually, he exhaled and leaned into me, resting his head against my chest. I wrapped my arms around him and held him there, feeling his heartbeat slow. Feeling his breathing even out.
This time, when he fell asleep, I held him.
And there were no more nightmares. Not that night.
Just the sound of two hearts, healing in the dark.