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The sun rose over London like a slow exhale.

Orange bled into pink, then gold, spilling through the gap in the blackout curtains Kyle had forgotten to fully close. The city stirred below—distant traffic, the first cries of gulls, the soft hum of a waking metropolis.

Kyle blinked.

He had no idea how much he needed that sleep. His body felt heavy in the best way, limbs loose, mind quiet. The kind of rest that came after days of running on adrenaline and bad coffee.

"What time is it?"

He reached for his phone. Nearly ten.

A knock on his door. It was light and rapid.

Then Jasmine's voice: "Brother Kyle? You 'wake?"

Kyle sat up, rubbing his face. The sheets smelled like Cassandra—faint floral, warm. He glanced at the other side of the bed. It was empty, she must have slipped out sometime before dawn.

"Why did she leave? It's not like we're a secret."

He didn't have time to dwell. Jasmine knocked again.

"Coming, kiddo."

Kyle pulled on a shirt and opened the door. Jasmine stood there in her oversized hoodie, hair a mess, eyes bright.

"Everybody's up," she announced. "Ella said if you sleep any longer, she's gonna pour water on you."

Kyle snorted. "She wouldn't."

"She said she would."

"She absolutely would." Kyle thought to himself.

He followed Jasmine down the hallway. The suite smelled like coffee and toast. Cassandra was at the table, Junior in her lap, spooning something into his mouth. Jane sat across from her, slowly working through a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, and what looked like leftover pastries.

Ella leaned against the counter, mug in hand, watching Kyle enter with a smirk already forming.

"Look who finally crawled out of bed," she said.

Kyle poured himself coffee. "It's called beauty sleep."

"Beauty sleep." Ella's smirk widened. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"She knows." Kyle thought to himself.

Kyle didn't flinch. He just took a sip of coffee and raised an eyebrow. "Calling what?"

Ella opened her mouth, but Cassandra cut in smoothly. "Good morning, Kyle. There's food on the counter. Help yourself."

"Thanks."

He loaded a plate and sat down next to Jane. She was staring at her food with the intensity of someone solving a math problem.

"You okay?" Kyle asked.

"I'm full," she said quietly. "But I keep eating."

"That's called happiness."

Jane looked up at him, timid but curious. "Really?"

"Yeah. Happy people eat."

Ella snorted. "That's not science."

"It's Kyle science," Kyle said. "Very reliable."

Jane smiled, it was small, shy—and reached for another piece of bacon.

Kyle watched her for a moment. She had already put away what looked like two servings. Her belly was slightly swollen again, and she moved with the careful slowness of someone who might regret her choices later.

"How does she do it?"

"Jane," Kyle said, "I think your stomach is a pocket dimension."

She froze. Bacon halfway to her mouth. "What?"

"A pocket dimension. Like in sci-fi. Unlimited space. You eat and eat and it just… disappears."

Jane's cheeks flushed pink. She looked down at her plate, then at her stomach, then back at Kyle. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Is that… bad?"

"No." Kyle shook his head quickly. "It's amazing. I'm jealous."

Ella laughed. "Smooth recovery."

Jane's shoulders relaxed. The self-consciousness faded, replaced by that soft, almost shy smile. "You're so weird."

"Thank you." Kyle responded.

Jasmine tugged Kyle's sleeve. "Brother Kyle, can I have more juice?"

"Of course." Kyle responded.

He poured her a glass, then sat back and watched the scene unfold. Cassandra feeding Junior. Jane picking at the last piece of toast. Ella scrolling through her phone, occasionally glancing up to throw a barb. Jasmine just existing, safe and full and warm.

After breakfast—after Jane had somehow found room for a second pastry and Jasmine had fallen asleep on the couch—Kyle stood up and stretched.

"I need to step out," he said.

Cassandra looked up. "Where?"

"Business." He didn't elaborate. Didn't need to. She understood.

Jane's brow furrowed. "You're leaving?"

"Just for a few hours. I'll be back."

Ella set her mug down. "Should we be worried?"

Ella knew more than the others and this question was her vague way of asking him if they should be worried.

"No." Kyle grabbed his jacket. "But if I'm not back by dinner, send a search party."

"Not funny," Cassandra said.

"I'm half joking."

Ella studied him for a moment, then shrugged. "Bring back snacks."

She was smart enough not to press him to draw suspicion but either way, it was something that she understood was out of her control.

Kyle smirked and headed for the door.

-

He stepped into the hallway and let the door close behind him. The smile faded.

"Time to work."

He had to start gathering intel and fast. The fact that he no longer felt eyes on him didn't mean anything. Marcello had connections everywhere—London especially. There would be people here. Informants or enforcers. People who owed the family favors.

And those people would be watching as all it would take would be a phone call.

Kyle walked toward the elevator, already running through his mental map of the city. The escape routes. The blind spots. The faces he had committed to memory.

"I need to find Angelica before anyone knows I'm looking."

The elevator arrived. Kyle stepped inside and pressed the button for the lobby.

As the doors closed, he caught his reflection in the polished metal.

"Let's see what London's hiding."

-

The library was empty—school wasn't in session—but Maya sat hunched over a stack of books, her dark hair spilling across the table. At twenty-one, she was striking in a way that made people stare. Italian beauty, sharp cheekbones, and a face that could turn any man to stone.

"Maya, are you sure you won't take a break?" Leo leaned against the shelf, hopeful.

She didn't look up. Her fingers traced a map, old and frayed.

"Shut up, Leo."

He sighed and walked away. Maya, once Angelica, kept reading. Somewhere out there, someone was looking for her.

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