Chapter 5 Everything He Became

The car was still quiet.

Just like it had been since he picked her up from June's curb an hour ago. No music. No small talk. Just the low hum of tires carving through road and the occasional mechanical sigh of the air conditioning.

She hadn't caught his name earlier - not when he opened the car door with clockwork precision, not when he simply nodded and said, "Ms. Raye," like he already knew everything about her. She was too busy pretending her hands weren't shaking.

Now, nestled in black leather seats that felt more like a vault than a vehicle, she finally asked.

"I didn't get your name earlier," she said, voice softer than intended.

The driver didn't glance back. Just responded, clipped and exact. "Steve. The Mercers' chauffeur."

Right. Of course it was.

Professional. Polished. Quiet as a closed file.

Elara offered a small, awkward "thank you" that floated and fell flat.

He didn't reply.

She turned back to the window, watching trees blur past, tall and intimidating. The city had vanished behind them almost too quickly - like it wanted nothing to do with where she was going.

Her own reflection stared back at her in the tinted glass, catching her off guard.

She looked... older.

Not wiser. Just aged by things time shouldn't touch.

And suddenly - as if yanked by an invisible thread - she was back in that hospital hallway.

White walls. Cold tiles. A teenage girl in borrowed shoes and a bloodstained school shirt. The clock above the emergency doors didn't move. Or maybe it did - and that made it worse.

She hadn't cried at first. She didn't believe it.

It wasn't until Marcus slid down beside her, hands in his hair, knees pulled to his chest like a boy too big for the floor - that the truth became real.

They were gone.

Mom's laughter. Dad's keys jingling at the door. The weird mushroom stew. The way they always sang out of tune in the car.

Gone.

She hadn't lost just parents.

She'd lost the structure of safety.

And Marcus - twenty years old and nowhere near ready - stood up and became everything.

Father. Provider. Shield. Shadow.

He never let her see the cost.

But she did.

In his unspoken exhaustion. In the way he read contracts late into the night with an online dictionary beside him. In the way he quit college without telling her and never reapplied.

Tears gathered fast, surprising her.

She pressed the back of her wrist to her mouth and turned toward the window so Steve wouldn't see. Not that he was looking.

A single sob slipped through - sharp and humiliating - before she bit down on the rest.

The road stretched endlessly ahead, winding like it had no destination.

Her phone buzzed.

Marcus: Text me when you get there. Don't make me call the FBI again.

She smiled through the pain.

Me: I promise. You okay?

Marcus: Of course. Go change the world, bookworm.

That's when the weight hit her.

Heavy. Warm. Like a blanket pulled over old bruises.

She closed her eyes just for a second.

Just to breathe.

Just to gather herself.

She couldn't afford to carry her past into a mind like his. But it clung anyway.