Noah woke first.

  Warm morning sunlight spilled through sheer curtains, gently chasing away shadows that clung stubbornly to the corners of the room. Soft, muted birdsong drifted in through the cracked window, blending with the rustle of leaves outside, creating a tranquil backdrop.

  Slowly, his gaze fell upon Vivian, still curled quietly beside him. Her dark hair spilled across the pillow, face serene in a rare moment of unguarded rest. The steady rise and fall of her chest was peaceful, rhythmic, reassuring him that she was real—solid and tangible beside him.

  For a long moment, Noah didn’t move, barely daring to breathe in case he broke the fragile stillness. He simply studied her: the gentle slope of her cheek, the faint curve of her lips, soft lashes casting delicate shadows across her face. His fingers itched to reach out, to touch her warm skin, to reassure himself once more that she was really here.

  Last night felt like a surreal dream, almost too perfect to have actually happened, but she was here, sleeping soundly in his arms.

  A small, fleeting smile tugged at Noah’s lips, a contentment he rarely allowed himself to feel. He let the quiet seep into him, savoring this simple, perfect moment. He drew it out, unwilling to let reality invade just yet.

  Because something within him whispered that this peaceful morning would not last. A lingering, haunting certainty tugged at his chest, telling him that very soon, everything was going to change.

  So, Noah tightened his hold ever so slightly, drawing Vivian a little closer against him, breathing in the faint scent of her skin, and closed his eyes, committing this moment to memory.

  *****

  Their gentle preparations were quiet, each aware of the other, respectful of the weight of their task ahead. They dressed in silence, Vivian carefully pulling her hair back, Noah methodically checking their belongings. An understanding passed between them in quiet glances and fleeting touches.

  The drive to Martha’s house was long but peaceful. They left the bustling streets behind, the scenery shifting to quiet suburban lanes lined with tall trees. Sunlight filtered through dense canopies, casting dappled shadows onto their car. Vivian watched the world blur by, hands clenched nervously in her lap.

  Martha’s home was nestled comfortably on a quiet street, surrounded by meticulously trimmed hedges and colorful flowers blooming vibrantly. The house itself was quaint, painted a soft eggshell blue with white shutters. A small wind chime tinkled gently from the porch, and an aura of calm domesticity radiated from the place.

  Noah knocked, his knuckles sharp and confident. Moments later, Martha opened the door, her eyes widening in surprise and delight as recognition flashed across her face. “Noah? Oh, my goodness! What a wonderful surprise!” Her warmth instantly put Vivian at ease.

  Inside, the home was cozy, filled with comfortable furniture, framed photographs, and shelves lined with neatly arranged books. Martha guided them to a plush sofa, insisting they sit and relax. She bustled off into the kitchen to prepare tea, talking warmly as she went. “Noah was such a serious boy,” she chuckled, her voice echoing softly from the kitchen. “The first time I sent him grocery shopping, he came back with cabbage instead of lettuce. Couldn’t tell the difference to save his life.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Vivian smiled softly, imagining a younger Noah standing perplexed in a supermarket aisle. Martha continued her anecdotes, each story painting Noah as endearingly out of his depth in the mundane, everyday world Martha inhabited.

  Eventually, Martha returned, tea tray in hand, sitting opposite them with an encouraging smile. Noah carefully recounted recent events—Marcus’s tragic death, Sammy Kwan’s violent betrayal, Mochi’s deception, Vince’s brutal execution, and Serena’s disappearance. Vivian watched Martha closely, noting the careful way she absorbed each detail, nodding occasionally, her expression solemn yet reassuring.

  Martha leaned forward, setting her cup aside. “I promise, I’ll help you find Serena or at least someone who can,” she said, determination bright in her eyes. “There’s a notebook upstairs with contacts that could help. Noah, could you fetch it for me?”

  Noah hesitated briefly, glancing uncertainly at Vivian. She nodded silently, offering him reassurance. He stood and disappeared upstairs, footsteps quiet but firm.

  “Would you like some more tea, dear?” Martha asked gently, rising again. Vivian shook her head.

  “No, thank you,” Vivian replied softly. “But may I use your bathroom?”

  Martha smiled warmly, pointing down the hall. “Second door on your left.”

  Inside the bathroom, Vivian took a deep breath, running cold water over her hands, splashing her face gently. She stared into the mirror, gathering her thoughts, seeking a moment of calm amidst chaos.

  Her gaze caught something faint along the mirror’s edge. Narrowing her eyes, Vivian stepped closer, fingertips tracing lightly over faint scratches etched carefully into the reflective surface. Her pulse quickened sharply as she recognized a familiar shape carved discreetly—a tic-tac-toe grid with a circle in the center square, intersected by a single diagonal line slanted sharply at ten o'clock.

  Her heart began racing, recognition hitting her like ice water. The symbol was a secret distress sign she and Serena devised years earlier, a silent promise that if either ever found herself trapped or in danger, they’d leave this discreet mark. Panic surged hot through her veins. If Serena had carved this here, it meant Martha was involved or knew far more than she admitted.

  Swallowing her fear, Vivian carefully locked the bathroom door, breathing deeply, steadying herself. Her mind raced, rapidly formulating a plan. She needed answers. She had to confront Martha, but not openly—not yet.

  Vivian exited the bathroom quietly, composing herself, masking her panic beneath calm determination. Martha’s back was turned, humming softly as she busied herself preparing tea, completely unaware.

  Moving swiftly, quietly, Vivian entered the kitchen. Her gaze fell on a heavy cast-iron frying pan hanging from a hook. Her pulse thundered loudly in her ears. She lifted the pan, its weight reassuringly solid in her grip.

  Martha turned, sensing movement far too late. Her eyes widened briefly in shock before Vivian swung the pan decisively. It connected sharply, Martha crumpling instantly, unconscious but alive, onto the tiled kitchen floor.

  Vivian stood frozen for a moment, breath ragged, her heart pounding furiously. She blinked rapidly, shocked by her own decisiveness, momentarily paralyzed by what she’d just done. Quickly shaking herself into action, Vivian moved swiftly, grabbing an extension cord from a nearby lamp. She knelt beside Martha’s unconscious form, swiftly binding her wrists securely behind her back, tightly restraining her ankles as well.

  She hesitated briefly, debating whether to gag Martha, troubled deeply by the violence of her own actions. Ultimately, she decided against it, uncomfortable crossing yet another line.

  Vivian straightened slowly, her breathing heavy, heart hammering against her ribs. A creak from upstairs signaled Noah’s imminent return. Vivian’s pulse quickened again. She knew he would not take this lightly, that it would challenge his loyalty to Martha, the woman who’d been like a mother to him.

  Steeling herself, Vivian turned towards the stairs, bracing for Noah’s reaction, hoping he would understand.

  Because whatever Martha knew, whatever secrets she held, Vivian knew this was their only chance to uncover the truth.

  And Serena’s life depended on it.