Victor

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Victor Morgan disliked “Luke Duty”.

It was one in the morning, and Victor held Luke by his ankles over the edge of a roof, three stories up.

Because Luke was curious, he was hanging over a downtown Charleston home, where anyone could walk by at any moment, including the police.

Luke dangled, inching his way down to avoid dropping his weight so Victor wouldn’t spill off the edge of the roof. His hair was tied back into a tiny bun on the back of his head. He’d already removed his shirt, as it was too loose and would have gotten in the way.

If it wasn’t for the mess of trees in the front yard shielding them, Victor was sure that with Luke’s blond hair and fair skin, they’d draw loads of attention—even late at night.

The grit of the tiles dug into the bottoms of Victor’s bare feet, and it hurt to keep standing. It was painful, and getting worse now that he was carrying so much extra weight and dug his heels into the roof. If Luke had only warned him they’d be doing this, he could have brought sneakers instead of slick shoes that he’d had to leave on the ground.

Keep still. Just hang on.

He breathed in warm, damp air, and then bit his tongue. His muscles shook. Helping Luke commit trespassing or breaking-and-entering wasn’t the sort of Academy work he was used to. Playing the piano and tapping at a computer keyboard didn’t give him a lot of time for strength training like the others.

Luke wriggled as he dangled over the edge of the roof, swinging toward the house, and reached out to grip the ledge of a window. He had a lean body, but he was taller and bigger than Victor, definitely outweighing him.

Victor readjusted and locked his arms around Luke’s legs, but the jeans Luke wore were of a slippery material, and he still felt like he was losing him.

“Hurry up,” he whispered through clenched teeth. They had no idea if the people inside were home, and he didn’t want to find out either way. He just wanted to leave. With Luke in one piece.

Luke said nothing, but his toes wriggled.

Just when Victor wasn’t sure he could hold onto him, Luke pulled his ankles away from his grip; he wanted to be released.

Was he insane? They were three stories up. If Victor let go, Luke would end up dangling from the window. How would he get back up?

When Luke tugged again, his body arching, Victor lost his grip, his heart lurching in terror at his sudden helplessness. Luke’s feet punched into Victor’s stomach as he launched himself over the edge.

Winded, Victor dropped to the roof, and then, once steady, forced himself to look over the edge, peering down to the concrete driveway below.

Nothing. No splattered body.

He was relieved but frowned, then realized Luke was most likely through the window. Somehow, with his Luke Magic, he’d made it inside.

Victor bit back a few choice words. How could he be so reckless? He wasn’t just risking his neck; he was risking a reputation as well. If anyone saw Victor helping someone break into the house, it would be all over the news in a heartbeat. He’d said he just wanted to look in the windows. What happened to the plan?

The smell of a rainstorm on the way hit his nose as a breeze whipped into his face. He waited, and without anything else to do, reached absently into his pocket, temporarily forgetting that he didn’t bring his own iPhone.

He felt the emergency flip phone instead. He considered using it to let Mr. Blackbourne know Luke was stupidly taking such big risks. He didn’t want to tattle, but Luke sometimes needed stronger guidance than Victor could provide. Mr. Blackbourne was one of the few people Luke actually took seriously.

Right now, though, there was nothing he could do but wait. He couldn’t go in. He wasn’t even sure he could get off the roof on his own.

He quietly tapped out the entirety of a Mozart tune on his leg with his fingertips, slowing on the last few bars to give Luke extra time.

Nothing. Silence.

The silence was better than gunfire or screaming. Luke remained unnoticed, whatever he was doing in there.

Victor scanned the street below, listening for any signal from Luke that he might need help getting back on the roof. He doubted he could lift Luke back up again. He wasn’t sure Luke could even climb his way back up to the roof from the window. He was good but not that good.

It had taken both of them ages to get up there in the first place. Victor studied the small front lawn surrounding the driveway. It was a long way down, and if Luke never reappeared, he would need to find a way down on his own.

There was a patch of grass for a front lawn, but with gnarled, old tree roots sticking out that he expected would be painful to land on; not that he would consider jumping from so high. He’d break something for sure.

He frowned and combed back his hair, wishing it was longer so he could tie it back like Luke. The waves got into his eyes, caught in the light, warm breeze. Maybe he should let Gabriel cut it shorter next time, he mused.

A few moments later, he realized if Luke were to get into trouble, he couldn’t help him sitting on the roof.

Most likely Luke would try to escape through a window or open back door.

Victor studied the outside of the building for a way down. The garage on the other side of the house wasn’t high enough for Victor to jump on and was too far away.

There was a back porch. That, at least, was closer than the ground.

He slowly moved toward the back of the house, crouched on all fours and crawled to keep his center of gravity low.

He wasn’t afraid of heights, but without Luke, he was losing his confidence. Why had he ever said yes to this?

What an insane life he had. In the dead of night, in the dark alone and up on a roof, sneaking around like a thief or pervert; would anyone believe it of Victor Morgan, teen piano prodigy?

He knew it’d be shocking if anyone saw him like this, but he somehow often found himself in these situations. He hardly believed it himself sometimes.

♥♥♥

It took fifteen minutes for Victor to climb down onto the roof of the back porch and then dangle over the edge and drop to the ground.

By the time he was down on the ground, he’d ripped his pants and lost two buttons off the formerly crisp and clean white shirt he wore. The side of his face stung after he’d scraped it on the way down.

Secretly, he was not only relieved but also proud of himself. Maybe he didn’t like this type of work, like Luke did, but Victor just scaled down a three-story home in the dark without getting caught. It was a better accomplishment than his last sold out concert.

Once he was on the lawn, he ducked behind a tree out of view of the house and planned his route to the rendezvous spot. He had no idea whose house this was, and he’d be lucky if they didn’t know his face from the media. He assumed Luke knew if he dared to go inside. Still, just in case, Victor needed to get going before one of them caught Luke.

He crouched, using the low bushes as his cover. He was just about to reach the gate when a loud pop came from the house.

It wasn’t a gun—more like a cap gun going off—but Victor dropped to the ground and waited. What the hell was going on?

Victor waited for several long moments, but no other sounds came from the house. Finally, he got up on his hands and knees. A few more feet and he could stand up properly and make a dash for the street and pretend he was never there. He’d still have to wait for Luke, but he’d do it out of sight.

A body crashed on top of him, forcing Victor flat against the ground with a grunt as all the air was squeezed out of his lungs. The body wasn’t fighting him, just holding him down. The weight, though, was familiar. He knew who it was, once the shock wore off.

“Oughfff,” Victor let out an exasperated grunt. He hated when Luke jumped him.

“Miss me?” Luke said in his ear, his body still weighing down on top of him, keeping him flat to the ground.

Victor ignored the question as his cheek landed in a moss heap, and he breathed in the scent of mud. Was that a bug on his hand? He tried to ignore it, remaining still, letting Luke stay on top of him. Someone must be looking for him; he had gotten caught.

More time passed, maybe another ten minutes, before Luke slowly rolled off of Victor onto the grass. No police sirens in the distance getting louder. No one coming out from the house.

They’d dismissed Luke to be a figment of their imagination, or assumed he was a squirrel or something else that was of no threat. Not that it mattered, as long as they got away safe.

Being cautious, they still crawled to the sidewalk before they stood and started walking away. Their shoes and Luke’s shirt were around the corner hidden under a bus stop bench. If they’d had to run from the house, they didn’t want to leave evidence on the property. They collected them and put them back on. Victor checked the hole in his pants. As long as no one shone a bright light on them, it was hard to see it.

He resisted the desire to brood over the thought of someone taking a photo of him like this. Sometimes he became paranoid, and that was probably thanks to his mother. If she saw him in such a state, she’d barrage him, saying people will think he was strange, or he’d be treated poorly among their social circle.

They’d do a few circles around the city streets before heading back to Victor’s house, just to lose anyone who might have been following them. It was standard operating procedure.

They didn’t talk until they were several homes away.

“Why in the world did you go in?” Victor asked him the moment he thought it was safe. “That was so stupid.”

“I couldn’t see inside; there was a weird light thing,” Luke said. “And I hadn’t been inside that one. Those old houses are nice on the inside.”

“Then you should ask, politely, during the day, to look inside,” he said. “Not at night.”

“It’s not the same. You know I need to practice.”

“You said you needed practice climbing a roof or two and asked if I’d be a lookout. You didn’t say anything about going inside.”

“We did the outside practice, but then I thought I should do the inside practice, too. You’ve got to do it sometimes, or you get rusty.”

Victor grumbled, but he knew there wasn’t a lot he could say to convince him. Luke had different ideas of boundaries. “You know, Mr. Blackbourne won’t like this.”

“He’d say I‘d need practice, too.”

“Not like that.”

Luke sighed, and then stretched his arms up to the sky and then, resting his forearms on top of his head as he walked alongside Victor. “I’m just a little restless, I think. I’m not really excited about our school plan.”

“You’re not?” Victor said, in a quieter tone. He put his hands in his pockets, hanging on to the emergency phone, focusing on the sidewalk. “I’m kind of curious about high school. Don’t you want to see what the classes are like?”

“I don’t think you remember school like I do,” Luke said. “There was homework and bullies...”

“And interesting lectures,” Victor said.

“That’s the college,” Luke said. “You’ve gone to the college too much. We’re talking high school.”

Victor smirked at the sidewalk. “There will be girls.”

Luke said nothing, but tilted his head toward the sky, and dropped his arms to his sides.

Victor got quiet, too. They turned down a side street and continued their seemingly random walk through neighborhoods.

High school. Girls their age. Victor rarely got a chance to meet anyone who didn’t know his name and face before he got to know theirs. It was hard to blend in downtown. Too many locals recognized him with just a glance.

A new school, a public school, was a chance to get lost in the crowd and be normal, even if only for a little while.

“We won’t be able to get involved,” Luke said, after a few blocks.

“What?”

“The girls,” he said. The soles of his shoes made scraping sounds as he walked. “We won’t be able to have girlfriends. You know that.”

“Sure we can,” Victor said. “It’s harder to do but...”

“We wouldn’t be able to tell them anything,” Luke said and stopped walking, scuffing his shoes loudly and turning toward Victor. “It’s too weird.”

“We just tell them...” Victor said quickly and then stopped, pressing his lips together. His hand in his pocket clenched the phone. What could he say? It was the same problem he had meeting anyone else outside of their group, even as just a friend.

“How do you explain when you disappear in the middle of the night?” Luke said quietly. “Or when you have to hang up without a goodbye? Or how you’ve bruised your face?” He reached out and brushed his fingertips across Victor’s scratched cheek.

Victor stepped back and covered the spot gingerly with his hand. “Is it bleeding?”

“It’s red. But imagine having to explain to a girlfriend.”

He was right, of course. Relationships were much harder when you were in the Academy. They’d talked at great length about things like this before. The only real chance you have at a girl understanding is if the girl is in the Academy, too. The chance of meeting one was slim, and that was assuming if that girl even liked you. “Didn’t seem a big deal six years ago, huh?”

“Six years ago, girls weren’t really on the radar,” Luke said and grinned. “But we wanted to be spies; the good guys, remember? The part we didn’t think about being undercover spies is you can’t tell anyone about it.”

“We’re not spies,” Victor said, turning, still covering his cheek with his palm as he continued walking.

Luke fell in step beside him. “We’re better.”

Victor hoped people would think so if they ever found out.

♥♥♥

Victor led Luke back to his house, and they went inside and up the grand staircase.

“Don’t tell Mr. Blackbourne I went in,” Luke said, once they were in Victor’s bedroom. Their phones were sitting on the piano bench in the center of the room. Luke picked his up to check for messages.

“We can’t keep secrets from him,” Victor said. “But I guess I don’t have to say anything if he doesn’t ask.”

“It’s not like it was a total stranger’s house,” Luke said. “Mr. Duncan wouldn’t have done anything to me if he’d caught me. He knows my face.”

Victor arched an eyebrow, his mouth opening in confusion. It took him a minute to remember that Mr. Duncan was another person within the Academy. He was middle aged, and had his own family to take care of, but retired recently, so he’d been spending more time working on Academy projects. “What? He...” he stopped, wanting to be relieved but then realizing the truth. Victor rubbed his own forehead. “I was almost relieved, but... my god. That’s not Mr. Duncan’s house.”

“Sure it is,” Luke said, lifting a blond eyebrow. He lowered his phone and pointed in the direction of the neighborhood they’d come from. “That’s his house.”

“That’s not his house,” Victor said. “I don’t know whose house that is, but it isn’t Mr. Duncan’s.”

“Oh,” Luke said and then red spread across his cheeks. He grimaced. “Whoops.”

“Whoops? Whoops? That’s all you have to say?” Victor groaned and then took a step back, sitting on his bed. After a moment, he dropped to lie on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Why didn’t you tell me who you thought it belonged to?”

“I don’t always know whose house I’m supposed to go in when they send me to fetch something. You need to be ready for anything.” He pocketed his phone and then winked. “Got to go.”

Victor said nothing and didn’t move as he heard Luke leaving, going down the back stairs, his footsteps fading off until the only noises were normal house sounds.

For a few minutes, he listened to the grandfather clock that stood one floor down; the very low, rhythmic ticking sound it made. He listened to it often when it was really late at night, and no one in his house was stirring. When he couldn’t sleep, it was the tempo of a song he tried to write in his head.

Not tonight. He couldn’t compose tonight. He needed to sleep. Victor fumed for a while but then got undressed and crawled into bed. In a few hours, he had to hit the road.

He promised himself he wouldn’t go with Luke to do any more late night sneaking around. Unless it was a dire emergency.

♥♥♥

Victor’s alarm went off early. He had to get going.

For the most part, his morning routine was smooth. He stretched, showered, got dressed. He checked his face in the bathroom mirror and applied a thin layer of makeup over the scratch he’d earned the night before.

He checked his phone to see if Luke or anyone else had sent word. He prepared mentally for a long drive through Charleston and on to Summerville to pick up Kota.

Victor stepped out the back door, and as he closed it behind himself, a bell sounded deep within the house. The alarm shook him out of his still-waking-up state. He scanned the back yard, recognizing the alarm as the one that sounded when someone breached the wall.

Victor paused, his hand on the door handle with the door closed behind him and remained still. If he tried to go back inside, and security hadn’t captured whoever it was, the intruder could rush him through the door. He held his breath, straightened his posture, and surveyed the tall wall surrounding the property, checking for movement.

All of Charleston was beyond the wall, and at times, Victor felt that all that was holding them back was the one wall. And even that sometimes wasn’t enough. Sometimes he felt the neighbors watched their every movement and reported all sorts of rumors to Charleston society. The neighbors weren’t really a problem. He could deal with rumors. It was the tourists, the journalists, and the occasional fans who got nosy and wanted a glimpse of him.

One or two photographers sometimes waited around, pretending to be tourists, but at least they stayed on the sidewalk. They were waiting for him to make a mistake. Pick his nose. Walk next to a girl by accident while taking a walk in the neighborhood. Bend over to tie his shoe while standing next to one of the guards; a pose that might look provocative, if they took a picture at the right angle.

Social columnists lived to capture every minute of the wealthy in Charleston. The rich who lived downtown must enjoy being seen. There were other neighborhoods that were far more protected that they could have moved to.

His mother craved the attention.

His father thrived on it.

Victor hated it.

On top of that, his parents had put him on stage from a young age. He hadn’t been the best piano player in the world, but by age seven, he could tap out Beethoven with reasonable skill, and everyone thought it was cute. Ever since, he’d been the monkey on stage, playing whatever the crowd wanted. He entertained for the high society of Charleston and people from all over the globe who came to see the adorable piano prodigy.

Now that he was sixteen, he was a local celebrity, made even more popular by a scandal-prone father wreaking havoc at social events. The press loved to play him as the suffering son: Poor Victor. How does he live under the shadow of a crazy father? Where did his father wake up yesterday morning? At another hotel? Or maybe on a plane on the way to Europe? Will the parents divorce after all the rumors?

Worse than the photographers were the teenage girls who occasionally jumped the wall to get a chance at Victor, requiring security to be in place on a twenty-four-hour basis. Girls were the worst. They were sneaky.

Then there was the occasional random woman leaving quietly out the back door. Not that the women his father seduced were much older than the ones breaking in for Victor, but it seemed there were always desperate women around, making Victor feel vulnerable and insecure in his own home. Often, those women got pictures taken as they were leaving, creating more rumors, and much more unwanted attention on Victor. Most journalists liked to assume those women were for him.

Across the driveway were three buildings: a carriage house, a garage, and quarters for servants. They all looked the same, with light brown bricks and green doors. The carriage house had been converted into a security building. Two men in dark shirts and pants were emerging from it, hands at their waists, hovering over their tasers.

Victor stepped back, pressing against the house wall, and tried not to be too obvious. He was too curious to go back in. He checked his position, and then angled himself behind one of the pillars along the back porch and waited.

The men went right to a corner of the yard, beyond the pool, and then behind the pool house.

Victor held his breath and waited. Behind the pool house was a clever spot to breach the wall, as it provided cover. Intruders, however, neglected to think about sensors being in areas like that for that reason.

A few minutes later, the security guards emerged holding onto a teenage girl. Her face was red, and she held a phone out with a straight arm like she’d been filming.

Victor remained behind the pillar, watching the men escort her to the closest gate door, telling her not to return as they slammed the door behind her.

He sometimes felt a little sorry for the teenage girls, who may have not meant any harm, but how would she feel if some stranger walked into her yard to take pictures? He sighed. Hopefully being kicked out deterred her enough to not try again. If she tried again, they’d call the police. They kept a record of faces just to be sure there weren’t any repeated attempts.

Once forgiven, twice reported.

Victor waited a few minutes on the porch, allowing time for the teenager to be on her way. He felt the buttons on his crisp shirt, ensuring all were secure except the top two at his neck. The white Armani shirt and black slacks were like a uniform now. While he didn’t mind wearing the same comfortable outfit every day, it was also boring. However, it prevented photographers from bothering to take his photo as often. It was something he’d read other celebrities did; wearing similar clothing made those photos impossible to sell. Mr. Blackbourne had recommended it, and so far, it had been working.

Once the yard was clear and the guards went back inside, the show was over. Victor brushed a few waves of his hair from his face and stepped off the back porch toward the large garage, knowing he was being watched—if not by a desperate fan, then his own security team.

How his mother and father got used to this sort of thing, the always being under surveillance—even if for his own safety—he wasn’t sure. Growing up with it, Victor had never gotten used to it and still always felt uncomfortable.

At least within the Academy, he could disappear.

His gray BMW was parked in the middle of the driveway, where he’d left it last night, although he knew it hadn’t gone untouched. One of the staff often washed and vacuumed out the car during the night after he returned. The tires looked to have been shined as well. Despite his mother not liking his choice in buying a BMW, she insisted it looked brand new at all times.

Victor wanted the car because it looked normal. Fancy cars were noticeable, and much more likely to draw the wrong sort of attention or be stolen. If he was going to go to this new high school, he needed something far less flashy. The BMW was a compromise. He’d have preferred something even less luxurious, but his mother wouldn’t tolerate him driving a Ford or Toyota. They wouldn’t let him get an older BMW, either. Extravagant, brand new, fitting of his wealth. That was the only way.

Following the brick pathway, he reached into his pocket, pushing a button on his key fob.

The BMW’s lights lit up, and the doors unlocked with a click. Victor started walking around the car to open the door when a voice called to him from the carriage house.

“Master Victor? Before you go...”

Victor turned. A guard approached the car, leaving the door to the carriage house open. He wore dark pants and a dark, long-sleeved shirt. He was blond, pale-skinned, and tall, yet unfamiliar to Victor. Guards didn’t often come out to address him personally. They rarely left the carriage house, unless provoked. His mother didn’t like guards scaring any authentic guests.

Victor paused briefly. Master Victor? He hadn’t been called that old-fashioned honorific since he was ten, and that was usually only by older men and women. “Good morning,” he said. “Is there something I could help you with?”

The guard blinked at him for a moment, as if the offer to help him threw him off. “Your mother is requesting you return at a reasonable time tonight. She’s anticipating guests for dinner.”

Victor forced a tight smile. Instead of sending a text, or waking up to tell him herself, she’d requested a guard stop him before he left? What a distraction it must have been for them. And how spoiled of her to do so. No wonder he used the term Master. She liked the old formalities.

“I’ll do my best, but...” Victor paused and then shook his head. “Sorry. I’ll let her know. I don’t mean to use you to pass messages.”

“I was a little surprised myself,” the guard said, relaxing his shoulders. “She doesn’t normally make requests. And she sent an email. I was wondering why she didn’t bother to tell you herself. She was home last night.”

“Was she?” Victor asked and then wished he hadn’t. The house was big enough that they could avoid each other most of the time, a fact Victor appreciated and often took advantage of. Otherwise, he’d be asked to attend parties or provide the entertainment for events.

The guard’s eyebrows went up. “I’m pretty sure.”

“Never mind,” Victor said, offering a sympathetic smile. He’d have to ask her why her phone wasn’t good enough to send a message directly to him anymore. “I’m sorry for the disruption. I’ll let you get back to...”

“Mr. Morgan,” a monotone, feminine voice drifted from the house.

Victor and the guard turned. Muriel, one of the new maids, stood with a small tray on the porch. She was a plain-looking girl, with straight, brown hair. She often appeared dazed to Victor, like she was always sleepwalking. She was always very formal with him in front of other people, despite repeatedly being told it was fine to address him by first name. She only ever called him Victor in private.

Victor cringed and waited for her as her hard-soled shoes thunked down the steps; she scurried, making a swishing noise with the suit pants she wore. Her hair was tied up in a bun on her head, making her appear older than she really was. She got the job done and often got him things before he knew he needed them. Even if she was new, she was good at her job and Victor could tolerate her awkwardness.

Muriel reached them and took a long look at the blond man, but then ignored him while presenting the tray to Victor. On it was an envelope, and beside it, a small, brown paper bag, neatly sealed with a sticker. “I had the chef put together some breakfast to go. And there’s a letter here for you. I brought it just in case it was important.”

Victor raised an eyebrow, ignoring the breakfast, and picked up the long, plain white envelope. The return address said Richmond, Virginia, but the stamp from the post office said it had been mailed from Charleston.

The address was probably a Wal-Mart or some random abandoned warehouse. Random was code for Academy. Someone was using an old-fashioned method of contact within their system.

“Thanks, Muriel,” Victor said, and then picked up the breakfast. He didn’t want it, as he suspected it was probably over-sauced salmon or something else rich and expensive. The new cook was great, but fish breakfasts were too salty and out of place for him. He couldn’t convince the cook to make something simple. The last time he asked for pancakes, the cook used zucchini in the batter, made tiny ‘cups’ out of it and filled them with caviar.

Victor waited until Muriel started toward the house before he passed the paper bag to the guard. “I hope you like salmon roe,” he said.

The guard looked surprised and then smirked. “I always see her lurking around the garden, and then taking a walk around the perimeter. Like she doesn’t trust us to be on guard.”

Muriel had been vetted by a reputable staff service, so it was odd he’d note her behavior, but then, it was his job to be aware of anyone near the house. Victor tilted his head to one side, surprised. “I only ever see her inside,” he said. Maybe she liked to take walks, get some fresh air. That didn’t seem too odd; maybe she enjoyed the old house and the gardens? Maybe she was more human than she let on. “Maybe she’s just getting familiar with the grounds—she is new, after all.”

Victor left the guard and got into the BMW. He tossed the envelope onto the passenger seat for now. He buckled in, started the car, and headed out toward the highway.

♥♥♥

The long stretch from his house to Kota’s was one that Victor had taken a number of times, and every time, he wished he lived closer. Traffic piled up before he even got onto the highway. The glare off cars from the sun rising behind him was blinding. He found a pair of sunglasses in the glove compartment and put them on, just as he felt the edge of a headache.

Once they started their new school project in Goose Creek, he’d have to do this every day. Not only that, but he’d have to go pick up Gabriel, who lived in a poor section of North Charleston. That meant getting out of traffic, and then getting back in line to get onto the highway.

Maybe he should take Silas with him and pick out roads around the highway that would be better and faster if there was a wait. Victor had GPS, of course, but that wouldn’t tell him if there was construction or which roads would have tight traffic.

Silas would appreciate the driving around, and may have a few recommendations. Victor made a note to talk to him sometime before school started.

Victor kept his foot on the brake, releasing slightly when the car in front rolled forward. His eyes fell on the envelope on the seat next to him. He was going to wait until he got to Kota’s house, but since he was stalled in traffic anyway, he needed the distraction.

He reached over, opened the envelope, and pulled out the one sheet of paper. There was a single paragraph printed inside.

Seeking volunteers for new harvest. Experience with ill crops required. Two days maximum. Meet up at the address below. Overnight may be needed. Seven.

Messages like this normally went to a group leader, like Mr. Blackbourne.

He hadn't heard from Mr. Blackbourne in a week, as everyone was getting ready for the new assignment at the high school. Mr. Blackbourne was busy working his way through required coursework for principals, a requirement for the job.

So why had this message been sent directly to him? Or had Mr. Blackbourne given them permission?

Two days maximum. With it being so vague and with only an unknown address as a contact point, Victor was unsure if he could get involved. Not when they were so close to starting a new job.

Would they have written to him if they didn't think he could help?

He would have to ask Kota. He’d have to get his involvement approved anyway.

♥♥♥

As he turned onto Sunnyvale Court, Victor passed by a little blue car belonging to one of the new homeowners. They’d taken the two-story, gray house not far from Kota's. The man inside the car had thin lips and pressed them together, focusing on the road. Victor waved, but the man ignored the gesture. Perhaps he wasn't fully awake yet or hadn’t expected anybody to wave at him that early in the morning.

Oh well. He’d tried to be friendly. Normally he wouldn’t have bothered, but it felt like he should be on friendly terms with Kota’s neighbors. They saw him regularly on the street.

Max wagged his tail as Victor pulled into the driveway of Kota’s house, a light-colored brick two-story. The Golden Retriever was tied to a long lead, most likely had already been given a walk, and was allowed to roam a bit to let out some energy before being allowed back inside.

Victor parked behind Kota’s sedan in the far corner of the driveway. Max stretched his tether as far as it allowed, and opened his mouth, almost like a smile, as his tongue hanging out. He didn’t bark, but simply sat on his haunches and waited to be greeted.

Once Victor emerged from the car, Max started panting. Victor patted him on the head, and when Max lay down on the driveway, exposing his furry belly, Victor gave it a friendly scratch.

“Nice to see you, too,” Victor said. Max smelled a little too much like wet dog. Had it rained or had he just gotten a bath?

It was the first time Victor noticed the pools of water around the yard. It hadn’t rained downtown. Summerville must have had a shower pop up last night.

Victor left Max, and the dog jumped up and went back to sniffing around the yard.

He went into the open garage door, passing Erica’s car inside, and to the inside door that would let him into the house, knowing Kota would be up already. He knocked once softly and opened the door slowly. Kota’s mother and sister saw Kota’s friends coming and going and encouraged them just to come in and make themselves at home. It’s what Victor loved about their home: very inviting.

He closed the door behind him and listened. There was a noise, but it sounded like it was coming from upstairs in Kota’s room.

Victor opened the door to Kota’s bedroom, the finished room over the garage, and climbed the steps, stopping at the landing, scanning for signs of life.

At first, he thought no one was there. The bathroom door was open, the light off. The closet was closed, light off. The room was as neat and tidy as usual, yet it didn’t feel right, something Victor couldn’t place.

He was about to return downstairs when he noticed the lump in the unmade bed. Kota always made his bed neatly once he was out of it.

Then he took in the shape of the lump—it was obviously a body lying completely flat under the covers.

Sleeping in? Kota? Victor groaned mentally. Kota only ever slept in if he wasn’t feeling well. He would have called Victor if it was bad enough he had to cancel, so maybe it was allergies. Or perhaps a headache he had already taken medicine for.

Regardless, it didn’t seem like he’d heard Victor come in. Victor smiled to himself and then tiptoed over to the bed. He rarely got a chance to spook Kota, and while he was sympathetic that he may have a headache, a little surprise wouldn’t kill him.

He positioned himself near the bed and bent a little over it.

“Hey Kota!” he said, grinning.

The body in the bed didn’t move. Not a jump or even an annoyed word about being quiet. Odd. Maybe he’d heard him coming. How disappointing that Kota heard everything.

Victor pouted. “Still sleeping? What’s wrong with you?”

Nothing again.

Maybe Kota was ignoring him. Victor positioned himself where he wouldn’t hit Kota in the groin with his knee or land on his stomach. He launched himself up, landing hard on the bed, colliding with the body underneath. He sought out wrists and grabbed them, trapping Kota under the covers.

He paused. Something was wrong. Kota’s wrists felt a little too slim, but still, he kept on top of him, thinking maybe the bulk of blanket was throwing off his senses. “Are you getting up or what?” he cooed. “The world is spinning on without you.” It was a phrase Kota had often told him when they were younger whenever Victor slept in. Kota would jump on him, too. It was about time he took some revenge.

But...why did Kota feel so small? Was his bed broken, making his body sink into the mattress? He grasped the wrists a bit more tightly, finding them too small.

Why wasn’t he moving? He wasn’t trying to even throw him off or even complain.

“Victor.” Kota’s voice spooked him, as it came from behind him, and not underneath.

Victor twisted his head around, spotting Kota across the room, a curious look on his face, and then a concerned one as he glanced down at the bed.

If he was by the door, then who was...

Victor’s heart stopped. A flash of realization shocked him, and his head rocked back. His grip tightened, but then he loosened it quickly, not wanting to harm whoever it was. Was it Jessica, Kota’s little sister? She hadn’t said anything, which wasn’t like her. What was she doing in Kota’s room?

He held his position and then carefully sat back on his heels and yanked away the blanket, expecting the small face of Kota’s sister. He was ready with an apology and hoped he hadn’t hurt her.

Underneath the blanket a wave of dirty blonde hair was draped across Kota’s pillow, and arms went up to cover a face and block out the light, but it wasn’t enough to conceal the tender, pink lips and the delicate angle of her chin.

This wasn’t Jessica. He didn’t know who it was.

Victor froze, embarrassed throughout and unsure what to do, his brain hung up on the shock of finding this girl in Kota’s bed. “Who...” He was trying to complete the question, but words were failing him.

A green eye peeked out at him from behind the arms, studying him the way he studied her. Timid, curious eyes. She had delicate, dark lashes and a tiny, button nose.

He retracted his head slightly, searching desperately for something to say.

“Victor, this is Sang,” Kota’s voice came from behind him, closer now.

Victor blinked again and again at the face, sure that this was a dream. “Uh,” he said. Then, as delicately as he could, he eased off the bed and stood up. She sat up a little more, brushing her hair away from her face. She was pretty, even with her hair messy, but she was lost in the gray shirt she wore. It didn’t give her much shape. It was hard to determine her age, but he guessed fifteen-ish.

Instinct kicked in, and his thoughts turned immediately to the teenaged girl who had jumped the wall that morning. Was this another one? But no, Kota would know right away if someone was trying to get to Victor through him. Besides, she’d clearly slept here and seemed confused; her cheeks were red, clearly embarrassed. The answer was in her eyes: She didn’t know Victor at all.

That was a relief. “What are you doing here?” he asked, and then tried to soften his voice. He didn’t mean to be so demanding. “I mean, in his bed?” His heart started beating a little faster, embarrassment finally taking over from the shock. Kota should have warned him. What would his mother say to this? Did she even know?

“She slept here,” Kota said.

Victor finally pulled his eyes away from the girl to him, stunned. Kota clearly had already been up for a few hours, although he looked a little tired with shadows under his eyes. He wore a light blue Polo shirt and jeans, ready for the day.

What perturbed Victor was that he was just so casual about it. His mom was reasonable, but even still, she may have some objection. And what about the girl’s parents? Victor shot out his hands, palms up, eyes widening. He couldn’t believe he’d bring a girlfriend here overnight and pretend like it wasn’t a big deal. The more he thought about it, the crazier it seemed. “Are you kidding me?”

“Don’t get weird,” Kota said. “And don’t tell my mom. I don’t think she’ll understand.”

Oh, great. So Kota knew he could get into trouble but didn’t care. “But why is she...”

“Kota?” Erica, Kota’s mother, called up from below. Victor clamped his mouth shut, staring wildly at Kota as she continued. “Do I hear Victor up there?”

Footsteps. His mother was coming upstairs.

Victor shared a look with Kota, and all he could see was that small bit of panic. Kota needed his help; needed to keep the girl in his bed a secret.

Victor cursed to himself silently. Kota would owe him big time for this. He charged toward the bed, while Kota went to the stairwell to distract his mother.

Victor pushed the girl back down, gently, but quickly. Her green eyes widened, but she was compliant, seeming to understand without having to be told that it was an awkward moment, and they needed to work together.

Victor eased himself onto the bed and sprawled out. She was tiny enough that if he crumpled the blanket and pillow, it might just look like he’d messed up the bed laying on it.

He swallowed, trying not to think about how he was lying on top of a girl in a bed, or how part of his back was brushed up against...

“Yes, we’re up here,” Kota said, throwing Victor one last pleading look, halting Victor’s thoughts.

Victor frowned and then tried to relax his face and not grimace. He wouldn’t give him away, of course, but Kota was sure as hell going to hear about this later.

Kota’s mom popped her head up, surveying the room, catching Victor on the bed. She smiled. Her short, dark hair was a little mussed on one side, but she seemed happy. Victor liked her a lot, much more than his own parents. She was always sweet.

“Hi, Victor,” she said, with a cheery smile.

“Hi,” he said quickly, thinking to wave but then didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to risk shifting and possibly hurting the girl, or giving away her position underneath him.

“I thought you boys could come down for breakfast,” she said. “It’s almost ready.”

“Mom,” Kota said. “Is it okay if I let Sang stay for breakfast, too?’

Victor widened his eyes and was sure he felt the girl below him shake a little. Was Kota mad? What was the point of Victor sitting on top of her if Kota was just going to give away she was there?

“Sure,” Erica said. An eyebrow went up on her oval face. “Who’s Sang?”

“She’s the girl from next door,” Kota said, not missing a beat. “The family that just moved in.”

“Oh...” she said and then scanned the room. She smiled a little, the same coy smile she used when teasing her son. “Where is she?”

Kota’s face started changing color: first, it went pale, and then a blushed a shade of pink. “In the bathroom.”

Victor thought Kota was losing it. It was always hard for him to lie to his mother. He’d been doing fine until she’d asked a direct question.

“She came in with me,” Victor said. He didn’t like lying to her, either, but if Kota was willing to do so for the girl, there must be something going on.

Kota relaxed, throwing a thank you look to him.

Erica kept her smile and nodded. “Sounds good. Have her come down. I made eggs.”

She walked down the steps and once he heard the door close, Victor hopped up like he was on fire. He pulled the blanket away instantly, looking down at her again as if the answers he wanted would somehow appear on her face. He also wanted to make sure he didn’t bruise or upset her.

He locked eyes with her and couldn’t move, or think of anything to say as she looked back at him with green, haunted eyes.

What an introduction. He jumped on her twice and then couldn’t stop staring. He felt like he’d stepped into a dream. Had he fallen asleep at the wheel?

Finally, he tore his eyes away, looking down her body. It was the first time he noticed the pants she wore: they were blue-striped but too big for her. He was sure they were Kota’s. “Are...you wearing...”

“Yes,” Kota said quickly, and then sighed. There was a tense edge to his voice. “I’ll explain later. She needs to hurry and get dressed.”

Victor backed away from the bed. Sang pushed herself up and out of the bed, standing beside it. The pants were almost falling off her hips, and the T-shirt was sliding off a shoulder, revealing a thin bra strap. Her hair was rumpled, all over the place.

In Kota’s too-big clothes, she seemed small and timid. She avoided his eyes, and her cheeks seemed to remain a permanent shade of pink.

Victor swallowed, feeling guilty for treating her so roughly, and wanting to apologize. He simply couldn’t find the appropriate words. What an idiot he was.

But it was Kota’s fault; he should have warned him. What the hell was going on?

Kota went to the bathroom, looking at Sang as she flicked on the lights. “Does your bag have clean clothes?”

She nodded.

Her silence made Victor wonder what her voice sounded like. She hadn’t spoken at all, not even when he’d jumped on her.

“Get dressed and come downstairs when you’re ready,” Kota said, and then crossed the room, grabbing Victor by the arm, tugging him toward the stairs. “Let’s go.”

What about her? Could they leave her alone? She looked terrified. “But...” Victor combed his fingers through his hair. This didn’t seem like a secret girlfriend in his bed. The more the thoughts settled into his brain, the more he was sure there was something deeper going on, and he didn’t like not knowing the details.

Kota yanked at his arm again, and Victor finally followed. He paused once on the steps, looking back at Sang.

She stood still, looking at him with imploring eyes. Don’t give me away, she seemed to say to him. Please.

The way she looked at him did something to his insides that he couldn’t explain. His heart raced. His stomach turned over.

He bit the inside of his lip, went down the steps and followed Kota out.

♥♥♥

When Erica had a day off, she loved to make a huge breakfast. She must have known Victor would be by that morning, too, as there was plenty of food already made. As Victor came down, Erica was finishing up last batches of bacon and toast in the kitchen.

Victor wondered if Nathan, or one of their other friends, would be by at some point and she had made extra, just in case.

Erica beamed at both him and Kota as they appeared. “What a morning!” she said in a happy tone. She stepped away from the stove, coming to Victor to give him a brief hug and kiss on the cheek. “How are you doing?”

She hadn’t greeted him like that earlier. Victor wondered if she suspected something was going on upstairs and was pretending not to notice. Perhaps Kota was too oblivious, but Victor often spotted her clever little looks and smiles when she suspected something was going on.

Good thing she trusted them.

“I...need to go get something out of my car,” Victor said. He elbowed Kota in the side. “Maybe you could come...”

“Don’t leave yet,” Erica said, returning to her frying pan and plating the bacon. When the toast popped up, she quickly tugged the slices out and buttered them while they were still hot. “Not until you’ve had a proper breakfast.” She gave him a knowing eye. “You look hungry. What did they try to feed you this morning?”

Victor really needed to get a handle on what was going on, but she was making it awkward to leave. “Some salmon, I think? Capers? I don’t know. I gave it to one of the guards.”

She nodded and smiled. “I don’t know where you picked up your taste buds, but it wasn’t from your parents. But thank goodness, because I don’t think I could make salmon with capers in the morning.” She nodded toward the bacon plate. “Someone grab that and then get some orange juice. And make an extra setting?”

Victor hid his gritted teeth, shooting looks at Kota for putting him in this awkwardness, grateful Erica didn’t ask any more questions about Sang.

Although he had a feeling those questions would come soon. Erica may trust them, but she could be a relentless tease, in a good-humored way.

Victor knew where things were in the Lee house, so he assisted with creating a place setting for Sang. Kota rolled over an office chair from his mother’s room to the table to make a spot for her.

Victor threw looks at Kota, asking him questions he nonetheless wouldn’t be able to get the full answer to—at least not until they could talk. Was she really a next door neighbor? If so, she had to be from that gray house; the one he’d passed on the way there. Victor didn’t know there’d been a girl living there, although admittedly, it hadn’t really been on his radar. Kota and Nathan would have mentioned if the new neighbors were interesting, or would have warned him if they’d seemed weird.

The more Victor thought about the situation, the more strain he felt inside his heart. He wanted answers. He didn’t have enough clues to figure out the puzzle on his own. What could have driven Kota to invite her in? Wouldn’t her parents wonder where she was? Had something happened? If she was the girl from the other house, the father...the person he’d passed on the road that morning. Was he distracted because he was looking for her? Where was he going? There weren’t police around looking for a missing girl.

Did they even know she was gone?

♥♥♥

When everyone sat down to breakfast, Sang still hadn’t come downstairs.

The longer she took, the more nervous Victor got, for her and Kota. Erica kept her amused smile. She’d pulled her hair back into a bun and cheerily served Kota and Victor eggs and toast.

Jessica, Kota’s little sister, came out of her room. She cleaned her glasses with her shirt and sat at the table, looking with mild interest to Victor, and then at the other empty chair between Victor and Kota. She didn’t ask anything, and Victor thought she assumed Nathan or one of their other friends would be along at any moment.

He focused on his plate, too nervous to eat. What would Sang say if she came downstairs? What would he say? He shot looks at Kota, filled with questions and unable to ask any. Kota avoided his eyes, which told Victor he was feeling guilty.

They were all sitting looking at their plates and putting jam on toast or sipping at some juice when Erica’s head popped up, her smile widening, as she looked over the top of Victor’s and Kota’s heads. “Hello!” she said, standing up and coming around the table with her hand out.

Victor instantly twisted his head around, as Kota did the same.

Dark blonde hair, gray skirt...green eyes.

They were the same green eyes, but she looked different otherwise: her hair was brushed and the clothes she wore fit her better. She was pretty.

Then he noticed the bandage on her arm. What happened there? She tried to hide it, tucking an arm behind herself, but she couldn’t completely.

Victor hid a small frown. Somehow he missed this, or he’d been so confused that the bandage didn’t grab his attention. Had she been in trouble? Had someone hurt her? If so, it made sense for Kota to have kept her there overnight.

She stood by shyly as Erica approached her and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Erica.”

Sang smiled as her cheeks went a shade of pink again, and Victor hated to think so, but it suited her appearance. The natural blush gave her pale skin some color and vibrancy.

Sang slowly put her hand in Erica’s. Her lips pressed together.

Won’t she say hello? Oh god, she’s mute. Or deaf. Or something. Victor shot eyes to Kota in question, but Kota was totally focused on her.

So focused. So...wow. Victor had never seen him so concerned over a girl. Did he like her?

Erica shook Sang’s hand. “I haven’t met your parents yet.”

“We’re still kind of settling in,” Sang said, in the softest voice Victor had ever heard. There was a slight rasp to it, Victor assumed from lack of use, but he suspected once she warmed up her vocal cords, she would have a more sing-song voice, delicate and beautiful.

At least she wasn’t mute. Just incredibly shy. Victor looked down at his plate for a minute, embarrassed and wishing he’d done things differently when he’d arrived. If he’d only known... She must think he was some brute jerk to jump on her like he’d done.

“This is my daughter, and Dakota’s sister, Jessica,” Erica continued. She pointed to Jessica, who nodded and adjusted her pink glasses.

“Hi.” Sang closed her lips promptly, looking quickly once at Jessica, and then trained her eyes on the floor.

Victor’s heart started beating loudly in his ears.

She was pretty. Very pretty. And the shyness was charming in a way. He wasn’t sure why.

And within the deepest part of him, he found that he was hoping that Kota didn’t have an interest in her. Maybe it was selfish, but he hoped maybe it was all a misunderstanding.

Is that likely? Kota could have easily called a hundred people through his Academy contacts to come help her out. Kota didn’t have to risk letting her sleep in his bed. At the very least, if she needed a place to stay that was safe, Kota could have called Nathan; he was right next door and had a whole house to himself.

The realization that Kota had kept her at his house made Victor second guess how Kota felt about her. He must have felt personally responsible, or just liked her enough, cared about her enough, to take the risk.

Victor cast his eyes down once he realized he was staring. He should stop making assumptions. He should get to know her, after all. She seemed shy right now, but what if she was snobbish? Or rude? He really had no idea what was going on.

Erica motioned to the empty chair between Kota and Victor. “Have a seat.”

Victor leaned over an inch in an effort to make room for her, but she had plenty of space.

She sat, and focused on the table. Kota quickly reached for the bowl of scrambled eggs and quietly filled her plate with a couple of scoops.

Of course! Victor reached for the closest thing, the bacon platter, and quickly placed a few slices on the plate for her. He wanted to show her he was sorry.

Why was his heart thudding so hard? He rarely had stage fright, but he suddenly felt it strongly. Feeling jittery, he didn’t want to drop bacon in her lap, so he quickly set down the platter.

“Orange juice?” Erica asked her.

Victor’s head snapped around, looking for the juice. Kota got hold of it before he could; it was on his side of the table.

Damn it.

Kota held it over her cup. “Say when,” he said.

As he poured, Victor suddenly worried perhaps she didn’t want bacon. Or eggs. Was she a vegetarian? They hadn’t even asked. He hadn’t thought to ask. He was just trying to make sure she got something to eat.

She seemed pleased, though, and began to eat once Jessica and Erica started eating again.

With Sang beside him, he found it difficult to swallow. He picked at his food and tried to think of something to say, but nothing came except apologies and questions, things Erica probably shouldn’t hear.

If they hurried, maybe they could get outside, and he could finally find out what was going on. It was agony waiting. He just wanted to talk to her without Erica around.

Everyone was quiet as they ate, and it seemed like the longest moments of his life. He threw looks at Kota, silently trying to urge him to hurry up.

Maybe it didn’t matter. It’s not like he could ask Sang to hurry, too. He didn’t want to seem rude to Erica, either.

He stabbed at a small piece of egg, and chewed it, but his stomach was in knots. He wouldn’t be able to finish his plate.

“So, how did you meet my son? And Victor?” Erica asked as her eyes lit up coyly.

Was she laughing at them? Did she know? It was hard to tell.

Sang’s face reddened a lot. Poor thing. Didn’t Erica see she was shy? There were a lot of new people around her, watching her.

“I met her yesterday,” Kota said quickly. The slight tone and the way he glanced at Erica told Victor Kota was pleading that she not ask too many questions.

“I only bumped into her today,” Victor said, stabbing at the bacon on his plate. She’d asked about him, too; he may as well answer.

He looked up at Sang and stopped chewing the bacon as she met his eyes.

It was two seconds, two long seconds of getting lost in those green eyes. Was it a plea to not say what had happened upstairs? Did she think he’d betray her now?

“Kind of surprised me, to be honest,” he said, smiling at her, silently asking for forgiveness.

She blushed again.

Too much? He didn’t mean to embarrass her. Had he said something wrong?

“Will you be going to their school?” Erica asked.

“Yup,” Kota said. “She’s in the same grade as us.”

That’s right; she’d go to the same school. That hadn’t even crossed his mind yet.

Erica threw a look at Kota and Victor. Kota obviously knew that look and cringed, ready for a scolding. “You’ve got such a lovely voice, Sang. And that ventriloquism thing you do is amazing. A real talent.”

Victor’s small smile turned into an embarrassed grimace. This was so painful to sit through. Couldn’t Erica understand they didn’t mean to speak for her? They were just trying to help. Kota used to be the same way, shy and never speaking to anyone. Kota always said he appreciated it when Victor took the lead with things. Wasn’t it natural to want to be helpful and aware of a sensitive person’s feelings?

“You know how guys are,” Sang said. Her voice was small, but she looked to the guys in a teasing way. “Give them two minutes; they think they know everything.”

Victor’s mouth opened, and he dropped his fork. Maybe he’d assumed too much. Was she really shy? Or just nervous given the situation she was in?

Kota laughed so hard; he put his hand on his stomach. A little too much. Was he trying to ease the tension?

Victor shot him a look. Don’t laugh at her. Kota didn’t look at him, though, so he missed it.

Erica seemed pleased. “Smart girl,” she said and drummed her knuckles on the table. She stood, and picked up her empty plate. “Keep an eye on this one, Kota. She’s got your number.”

Victor was thinking of something to say when Kota spoke quietly, “Not yet, she doesn’t.”

Then, he winked at her.

She blushed again and giggled nervously.

Victor frowned. Did she like Kota?

Did he like her?

Kota had told him it wasn’t what he thought, but that look felt like there was more between them. Maybe Kota wasn't being honest or was understating their interest in each other.

Victor stared at his plate and picked at his food in silence.

Forget about her. Something was going on, but why should he get so excited about her? He thought of the conversation he’d had the night before with Luke. Girls wouldn’t understand them. Relationships were too complicated. If she dated Kota, or him, how long would it be before she got upset with them for being out late, or coming home with bruises? How long would it be before she learned they’d lied to her or thought they didn’t care, leaving her to disappear, sometimes for hours or days at a time, with no explanation?

Girls outside the Academy didn’t understand. It wouldn’t be long before Kota had to disappear on her because of some emergency and he wouldn’t be able to explain why.

Victor sighed to himself. In a few days, she’d find them too strange to even want to be friends with them. Whatever was going on, they’d help her with it, but then, she’d be gone.

Sometimes, being inside the Academy was the harder choice.

♥♥♥

Erica shooed them out of the house, insisting she’d clean up, but not before she threw a few amused looks at Kota. He ignored them.

Outside, the sun was drying out the puddles. Sang shuffled behind Kota, sticking close to him.

Victor frowned and hid his hands behind his back for a second. When he realized it, he corrected himself; he didn’t want to seem unfriendly.

Max padded his way around to the drive, tongue out, happy to see them all. He sprinted over toward them.

Sang dodged out of the way, using Kota as a shield.

Did she not like dogs? He frowned, unsure how to feel about a person who might dislike a friendly, and very obedient dog like Max. Victor adored Max dearly. Or did she fear dogs? Maybe she didn’t have much experience with them?

Kota stood with his arms wide out, and then showed his palm to Max, a sign for the dog to stop. “No. Sit. You did enough damage already?”

Damage? What damage? Max froze, whined once, and then sunk into a sitting position.

Then, Victor spotted the bandage on her arm. With the way she shrank away from Max and how Kota spoke, it had him guessing. “So that was from Max?” he asked.

She nodded and then covered her bandaged hand with her good one. “It wasn’t his fault. He just surprised me, and I hit the pavement.”

Oh no. He felt ashamed he’d thought badly of her before. He needed to stop assuming, but it was difficult. His puzzle-solving brain was trying to reason out all the answers.

She turned her head and then focused on Victor’s car.

Okay, enough silence. He couldn’t take it anymore. “All right, out with it,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t want to be mean, but he needed to know. He was dying trying to figure it out. “I’ve been playing along all morning. I’d like to know what kind of trouble I’m digging myself into.” Ugh. That was harsher than he meant. He sounded like his mother.

She looked to Kota instantly, and it was him who responded. “She was out late walking home when Max broke the lead and well... I couldn’t just let her go home bleeding.”

That was it? No. There was something more. Why wouldn’t she just go home with a bandage?

She nodded and responded before he could ask more questions. “I was out so late that sneaking back in would have meant more trouble at my house.”

“It just kind of happened,” Kota said.

Victor studied them, mostly her. He wasn’t sure what to say and suspected they weren’t saying everything. When she looked away, he was sure of it. There was more to the story. She was holding back. Kota, too.

“Give her a break, Vic,” Kota said, and then stepped in front of her like a shield.

Victor turned his head, trying to mask his dour expression. Something was wrong. He knew it. Kota knew it; he could see it in his face. Something was happening, and he didn’t know what, but if Kota was protecting her, there was way more.

Her face appeared over Kota’s shoulder, and those green eyes pleaded with him, begging for understanding.

He tried to silently ask her what was wrong. Tell me, he thought. I’ll fix it. Kota will fix it. I can’t fix anything if you don’t tell me.

Nothing. She said nothing. She was going to drive him crazy.

Still, maybe she couldn’t, or was too embarrassed. Who was he to even ask? She didn’t know anything about him.

He needed to get Kota alone. Just for a minute. He needed the full story.

He didn’t want to abandon her, either. If he invited her along for the day, maybe she’d get distracted by shopping, something in a store, and he could get two words in with Kota.

“Okay,” Victor said. He shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets then nodded to his car. “Well, I came to take Kota to the mall. Are you going with us?”

She didn’t talk for the longest time, though he knew she’d heard; her cheeks turned red again. What’s the deal? They were just going to a mall, he thought.

“Maybe we can put that off for a few hours,” Kota said.

Was he crazy? Gabriel would kill them if they canceled. They needed to go if they wanted their suits to be ready on time.

“No,” she said before Victor could protest. She was focused on the dog who was relaxed, lying at Kota’s feet.

She bent down, scratching his belly.

They watched her, waiting.

Max rolled over as she continued to scratch. “It’s okay. You guys go. I’ve got things to do. I wouldn’t want to slow you down.”

Slow us down? Maybe she didn’t want to go. Or she really couldn’t. At least he’d get a chance to talk to Kota. They could see her later.

He was about to nod toward his car, but Kota wouldn’t look his way, focused on Sang, instead.

Slowly, Kota ducked down to catch her eyes, looking up at her intently. “Do you want to go?” he asked, quietly.

“It probably doesn’t matter,” she said, with a shrug. “I wouldn’t be allowed anyway.”

Well, crap. Her parents probably wouldn’t let her go out with two boys she didn’t know. Victor couldn’t blame them of course. Well, that’s that.

That’s when Kota shot him a look, silently urging him to help out.

What? What was he supposed to do? Kidnap her? He groaned internally. “What if we went and asked them?” he offered, putting his hands on his hips. “I mean, we’re not ax murderers.”

She looked right at him and smiled, amused.

He swallowed, trying to fix his face to smile back, but all he could do was stare. She made his insides quiver.

He’d never been so nervous around someone, not even while on stage in front of hundreds of people.

“It’s complicated,” she said. “My mom would just say no right off. It won’t matter who asks.”

Oh. A strict mom. No wonder she didn’t dare sneak back into her house at night. But then, she’s out now. What’s the problem? Were they not wondering where she is right now?

God, so many questions.

“We could try,” Kota said.

Victor couldn’t believe it. Why was he pressuring her?

Her lips twisted, and she was quiet as she seemed to be thinking. Finally, she said, “If you really want me to go, give me a few minutes.”

Victor’s heart raced and he clenched his teeth. Uh oh.

“What are you going to do?” Kota asked.

“She’s going to lie, dummy,” Victor said, frowning. Not a good idea. They were asking her to lie. Why pressure her into going? Why couldn’t they just leave without her? She’d said she was busy.

Kota frowned and rubbed his chin. “Really, it’s no big deal if we go talk to them.”

Couldn’t he see she didn’t want to go?

“I think it’s better if I just make a quick appearance and then don’t mention I’m going. They won’t notice I’m missing for a few hours.”

That struck him more than anything else she’d said yet.

They won’t notice I’m missing for a few hours.

He shared a look with Kota then, meeting his green eyes and then in the time it took to blink a few times, there was a serious, silent conversation between them.

What kind of family wouldn’t notice, if they were so strict she was afraid to say anything?

She was out last night, late, and too afraid to go home.

She was afraid.

That was what was wrong with her: Fear. That was the something off about her that had been haunting him and had him filled with questions from the start. A pretty girl, shy, and seemingly nice, but filled with anxiety over whatever awaited her at home.

Kota saw it, too. He’d probably seen it from the start. Of course, he would have recognized it right away. It was the same sort of fear Kota used to carry with him when they were younger. It was so similar, and now that Victor recognized it, he wondered how he hadn’t seen it before.

Something was terribly wrong within Sang’s house. No wonder Kota was pressuring her to stay with him. He didn’t want her to go back.

Victor gave in, knowing Kota wanted to get to the bottom of it. He couldn’t blame him. Victor was now too drawn in to let go. He shrugged. “We’ll wait,” he said.

She edged away and started walking down the drive. She was still barefoot, and was going to walk home.

Should he offer her to drive her over?

“Wait,” Kota said, rushing toward her, then stopped short and pointed toward his house. “I forgot. Your shoes are inside.”

She waved her hand as if wiping away a thought. “Oh yeah, my bag.”

Kota approached her, said something to her that Victor couldn’t hear, and Victor frowned again. Why was there a secret now?

Kota pulled away from her and headed to the garage. “Just grabbing her stuff.”

Her stuff.

She had a bag. She was out late. She was afraid.

Had she been trying to leave last night? Did Kota stop her?

Victor looked at her, and she stared back at him.

Her hands were shaking. Her cheeks held on to that blush. Those green eyes begged him silently to understand her, even if she could never say the words out loud.

She’d be the death of him with such a look.

♥♥♥

After Kota returned and returned her things, she walked down the road. She was still walking barefoot, carrying her shoes with her.

Beautiful.

“What’s wrong with her?” Victor asked the moment she got to her drive and was most certainly out of earshot. Thank god she couldn’t hear; the second the words were out of his mouth, Victor was ashamed for uttering them.

Kota was staring after her and didn’t even appear to hear Victor until she entered the garage and was out of sight. But he had heard. “I don’t know,” he finally said, quietly. “But I’ll find out.”

I’ll find out, Victor thought, even though it wasn’t like him. He was always the first to suggest they could work together on anything. “I can help, you know.”

Kota finally turned his head to look at him, his haunted green eyes an echo of hers. “Who knows,” he said. “Maybe it’s nothing.”

“I don’t think it’s nothing,” Victor said, and believed it. They had worked hundreds of cases with the Academy for years now. “No one looks like that. Not unless...” He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but they’d all suffered through abuse growing up, but maybe no one as bad as Kota. Victor didn’t need to point any of this out to him.

Kota just sighed and then shrugged. “I’ll tell you if there’s something to know.”

Maybe Victor was just overreacting or was being overly sensitive. Still, the prickling sensations on the back of his neck told him something wasn’t right. There was something in Sang’s world that she couldn’t talk about, and that was a good enough reason to look into it.

“We shouldn’t make her walk back,” Victor said. He took his keys out of his pocket and pushed the button to unlock his car doors. “Let’s go get her.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Kota said, but turned to walk around the car and get in the passenger seat. As he opened the door, he looked down at the envelope from that morning.

Victor got in the driver’s seat and smirked. “Well, I guess I should decline that,” he said. “Isn’t this old method of sending letters more obvious now than email?”

“Less traceable, though,” Kota said, picking it up and looking at the address in the corner. “I got one of these, too, but I haven’t had the chance to open it yet.”

“It may be the same thing,” Victor said, putting the key into the ignition.

“It may not,” Kota said and then replaced the envelope on the seat. “I’ll go get mine.”

As Kota left, Victor thought that maybe they should rethink their appointment today. They could still fit into their old suits. Time was limited right now. Maybe they should call in another team to look in on Sang. But as that thought occurred to him, he dismissed it. He didn’t want to bring in more strangers. With Sang’s shy nature, it might make things more difficult if they called in more people. They wouldn’t want to scare her into running off, or causing her to retreat into an abusive situation.

After Kota returned with the envelope, they drove into Sang’s driveway to wait for her. They compared the letters: the same.

“We should decline,” Victor said. He nodded toward the gray house. “We’ve got something else now.”

“I’ve got something else,” Kota said, folding the pages of each letter separately, and then into one envelope.

“Too late,” Victor said. “I’m already involved. What makes you think I’m just going to forget? You should never jump into something alone, right?” He shouldn’t have to say it. Kota recited the same stuff every time they tried to do a job on their own or handle problems themselves.

Kota frowned and then looked toward the house.

The house was two stories, with an attached, two-car garage, and a big shed at the end of the drive. The yard was rather big, too. The front was big enough to host a football game. The back butted up against the woods, like many of the homes on the street. What made him uneasy looking at it? The garage doors were open. No cars.

What about her mom? Had she gone to work, unconcerned for her daughter?

Was there no one else there? It seemed like a pretty big house. She didn’t want him and Kota to go and ask, so what was she hiding?

A thousand questions whirled around in his brain. He knew little of Kota’s neighbors; as far as Victor knew, none of them had been of any real interest, until now.

Silence fell between them as they waited. Victor wondered if she’d ever come back. Maybe she got caught for being out all night and was in trouble. They had no way of knowing. Maybe they shouldn’t have driven over.

“Don’t let on to Silas,” Kota said, finally. “Just let him think she’s a friend coming along. And don’t tell Mr. Blackbourne. Not yet.”

“Why not?” That certainly wasn’t like Kota. He normally told Mr. Blackbourne everything. It was what made the whole team work; if they had no secrets, no one could hold anything against them.

Kota shook his head again.

Sang appeared, and when she spotted the car, she glanced over her shoulder and then raced toward it.

Escaping.

The moment she was in sight, Kota’s eyes were focused on her. “Just not yet,” he said quietly, and got out of the car, holding open the door for her.

Victor sighed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“What did you say to them?” Kota asked as Sang slipped into the car.

“Nothing,” she said and sat back in the seat as Kota got in the back seat behind her.

Victor bit the inside of his cheek. He was going to get arrested today. They were going to call the police on them for taking her.

He noticed her feet, the sandals. She wasn’t barefoot, at least. He stole glances at her so he wouldn’t get caught staring, and looking at her now, she looked almost normal. Beautiful. Her green eyes had a lightness to them. Her hair seemed to change from a sandy blond to a light brunette color, depending on how she tilted her head in the sunlight coming through the window.

She wouldn’t look at him, only out the window. She seemed nervous.

Victor put the car in reverse, driving out of the neighborhood.

He tried to catch Kota’s eyes in the rearview mirror, but it was hard to express what he was thinking. Whoever was inside that house had Sang worried about getting in a car with someone, yet she’d risk it just to get away.

He’d try it Kota’s way. Get her used to him to gain some trust, then ask her.

The car was silent, and it bugged Victor. He said something to Kota about the weather, still stealing glances at her to see if she’d respond.

She seemed lost, her eyes following the trees zipping by, at cars in front of them, and on the side mirror. The farther they got from her home, the more she sat up, and just looked at everything.

Did she not get out much?

Kota said he’d call Silas and let him know they were on their way. Silas sometimes got caught up in things at home and needed some notice.

Kota had his phone to his face, but Victor could hear the buzzing of the phone ringing.

“Is he answering?” Victor asked after the third ring. Usually, he picked up pretty quickly. What was taking him so long?

“Hey, you ready?” Kota asked. “We’re almost there.”

“Who are we getting?” came a quiet voice from the seat beside him.

Victor’s heart almost leaped out of his chest. Her voice was so sweet, melodic.

When he glanced over at her, she looked right at his face. Those eyes made his heart take another small leap. “An ax murderer,” he said and grinned, but then silently cursed to himself. He’d meant it as a joke, but quickly realized you can’t tell a girl that sort of thing. She didn’t know him from anyone else.

He was about to try to explain what he’d said when he noticed wasn’t wearing her seatbelt. Ugh. How did Kota not get on her? Kota fussed at all of them when they forgot their seatbelts. Where was his brain today? What if they’d gotten into a wreck? “Will you please buckle in? It’s bad enough we kidnapped you.”

The words were out before he could stop himself or come up with a way to say it more politely. Now he was fussing over her, and she was going to think he was mean when he was just trying to keep her safe.

She said nothing but smiled and turned her head away like she was hiding it.

The death of me. He gripped the wheel and was going to say something else, but she put her belt on and looked back out the window.

Kota had hung up by then. The car fell back into silence. For the sake of just something to listen to, Victor started going through the radio, seeking out something she might be interested in. Country? No reaction. Pop? She was still staring out the window.

Slowly, her eyes turned to his hand as he poked at the radio, and she waited in silence. He watched out of the corner of his eye while twisting the radio knob, splitting his attention with that and the road.

“That’s good,” Kota said at one station.

Sang didn’t react, though; he assumed no interest. What did she like? He tried the next one.

“That’s fine, too,” Kota said.

Kota could be so dense, sometimes. They were trying to get her to trust them, build a rapport. Why didn’t he ask her what music she likes?

Kota didn’t say anything. If he wanted to get her to relax so he could get to know her, he was doing a bad job. Victor was about to ask her himself when he flipped to another station; this time, it was just an orchestra piece, heavy on the violin.

Maybe he’d start with that. He turned the volume up to be able to hear over the air conditioning, as the violin started to pick up the tempo. “Will this put you to sleep?” he asked. He expected her to say it was fine, or maybe just shrug. He’d put it on whatever she liked if she’d just say something.

Those green eyes met his. “I love Vivaldi,” she said.

She knew Vivaldi.

He lost it. His mouth hung open despite trying to gain some control. His hands stiffened, and the wheel seemed to slip through his hands.

“What did you say?” There was no way he heard her right.

Her eyes went to his hands, and he realized he’d let go of the wheel, and took control of it again. God, he was turning into a mess around her already. He could sense Kota laughing at him.

“I said I like Vivaldi,” she said. “Summer is okay.” She made a small motion with her hand to the radio. Summer was the piece playing. “I like Winter best, though.”

Victor forced his lips shut just to stop his mouth from hanging open.

She liked his music.

Well, no, she liked Vivaldi. It was the type of music he played at performances, although he wasn’t sure he’d ever played Winter before. Not a lot of girls knew about classical music, and most of them couldn’t tell composers apart.

He was helpless to get his heart to stop pounding so hard in his chest, but that she liked music, his music, felt like a revelation.

God, don’t let there be anything wrong with her. Something wrong might mean they’d need to call in someone for help.

He looked in the rearview mirror, suddenly realizing why Kota wasn’t eager to talk to Mr. Blackbourne.

Because Mr. Blackbourne or the others might suggest calling in for help. Bringing in help could mean they’d take her if she was in an unsafe environment.

I told you, Kota seemed to say as they shared a look in the mirror. Help me help her.

Victor couldn’t get himself to speak after that. He needed to collect his thoughts. He hoped nothing was wrong. If that was the case and she was just a little strange, that wasn’t bad, right? They wouldn’t need to call in for help.

Maybe after this, he’d visit Kota more often. Unless Kota really was interested in more than just helping her. He’d never want to step on Kota’s toes like that.

Victor clenched his jaw as he stared out at the road. What if she liked Kota, too? What would she see in Victor? His money, his minor celebrity status? She didn’t know him from anyone else. But even if she found out, was that really how he would want to win her over? With money and stardom, when the one thing he wanted to be, was normal, not someone defined by their wealth and celebrity?

Would she ever consider him over Kota without it?

What was he thinking? He shook the thoughts from his brain. Too much. Too fast. Too soon. It was wrong to try to think of winning her affection. He’d just met her that morning. So what if she was into the same music? That didn’t mean they were meant for each other.

All too soon, he was pulling off the interstate and on the way to Silas’s apartment complex.

He wished he had more time to think. He needed to get himself together. He wasn’t sure he could with her around.

As they pulled into the apartment complex, she leaned over toward the side window, her body pulling at the seatbelt, nearly pressing her nose to the window, looking at the empty swimming pool, the tennis courts, and the buildings.

If he had to hit the brakes, she was going to smash her face. “Will you stop being cute?” he asked, hoping flattery will lighten what he needed to say. “Your nose is smudging the window. My god, you’re worse than a puppy.”

Okay, he could have said it nicely. What was wrong with him?

Her cheeks turned red, and she turned to face him, looking a little worried.

He smiled, trying to let her know he was teasing her, but he felt like he came off idiotic and goofy.

“Sorry,” she said.

Ugh. He shouldn’t have teased her so soon. He just wanted to lighten things up and had said it wrong. She had him in knots.

“She’s new,” Kota said. “She’s going to be interested in stuff.”

A flare of anger surged through Victor, and he gripped the wheel tighter. “I got that, Sherlock, thank you,” he said. He shot Kota a look in the mirror. You’re not helping.

Kota lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. He didn’t really understand.

Victor’s heart raced hard in his chest. He was sweating already, and it was still morning. Maybe getting Silas would help. Silas could distract Kota in the back seat, and Sang could stay in the front. With how tall Silas was, he’d be a little cramped in the back, but the mall they were going to wasn’t that far.

If Victor could only get her alone, maybe he’d stop saying stupid things around her and could get to know her.

Maybe she would learn to trust him, want to know him. Not just the rich piano prodigy, but him, Victor Morgan. Maybe he could show her what it meant to him that she liked Vivaldi.

Maybe he could even take her out. But before that, he’d have to make sure he could keep her safe. He needed to figure her out, like a delicate puzzle, knowing each move, if incorrect, could break her.

He clenched his teeth, determined. He’d figure this out.

♥♥♥