I slid under the blanket and watched as Jasmine reached over and shut the lights off. The room dimmed instantly, leaving only the faint glow of the city leaking through the curtains. Nala crawled closer to me, her body warm against my side, while Jasmine hopped fully onto the bed and settled in, tugging the blanket up around her shoulders.

Outside, the snow was coming down hard. Every now and then, a gust of wind pushed rain against the windows, making the glass rattle faintly. The storm felt loud and unforgiving out there, but inside the room, everything was quiet and warm, almost too calm for what was hanging over us.

"Nala," I murmured. "I won't be working tomorrow. I've gotta… handle some stuff."

She hummed softly and rested her palm flat against my chest. "Of course. Do what you need to do."

Jasmine shifted closer too, propping her head slightly against my shoulder. "I still can't believe it," she said quietly. "Carrie… Tom… Kim… what a day."

"Yeah," I muttered. "It sucks."

"Guy wasn't enough," Jasmine added with a tired exhale. "Now we have Carrie. Just perfect."

I let out a dry breath. "I kicked his ass. I can do the same for Carrie. Don't worry."

Nala tilted her head slightly, her voice softer. "How was Kim? Since you two came back to the penthouse, she… she was just quiet."

"A little… confused," I said. "But she's strong. I know she can pull through."

"Yeah," Jasmine agreed. "Kim's tougher than she looks."

"She told me to just… give up," I added. "That's not happening."

Jasmine lifted her head and looked at me. "Good. Because we're not going anywhere."

I smiled faintly and leaned in, kissing her lips. "That we're not, Jas."

She settled back down, hugging me tightly. One of her legs slid over mine, warm and familiar, and she let out a long breath as if she was finally letting go of the tension. I reached up, brushed my fingers through Nala's hair, and kissed her forehead, then did the same to Jasmine.

She was right. We were sticking together. Whatever this turned into, we'd face it as one.

"Let's just sleep," I murmured. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

"Mm," Jasmine said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Nala whispered as her eyes closed.

I stared up at the ceiling. "Yeah… goodnight."

As if sleep would actually come that easily.

The blanket felt heavier than it should have, pressing down on me the same way my thoughts did. Outside, the storm kept raging, and inside my head, it was no different. Every worst-case scenario lined up one after another, all of them ending with Carrie getting exactly what she wanted.

"Fucking hell…" I whispered under my breath. "How am I supposed to sleep like this?"

I shut my eyes, forced myself to breathe slowly, tried again. Minutes dragged by. Nothing.

Eventually, the sound of breathing around me deepened. Jasmine's grip loosened slightly. Nala's chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. They were out.

Carefully, I straightened, easing Jasmine's leg off mine and slipping out from under the blanket. I grabbed my shirt, pulled it on quietly, and padded toward the door. The hallway was dim, lit only by the low night lights along the wall.

As I stepped into the living area, I noticed the glow from the dining table.

Minne was sitting there alone, a glass of orange juice in front of her. Her phone was in her hand, the light reflecting in her eyes.

She startled slightly when she saw me and immediately stood. "Oh—M-Master…"

"Ssh," I said gently, lifting a finger to my lips. "Let's not wake the others."

She nodded quickly and sat back down. "S-sorry, Master."

I walked over and sat on the couch opposite her. As I did, I caught a glimpse of her phone screen before it dimmed. Carrie's name was still there, search results open.

"Couldn't sleep?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No, Master. That woman was… scary."

"Yeah," I said quietly. "She was."

"Mm…"

I leaned back slightly, folding my arms. "You were looking her up."

"Yes," Minne admitted. "I wanted to understand who she is."

"And?" I asked.

She thought for a moment, fingers tightening around her glass. "She's powerful. People praise her a lot. They say she's generous and kind. But…" She hesitated. "Some comments are strange. Some men call her 'mommy' online. I think it's because of her body."

A tired chuckle escaped me. I shook my head. "Yeah. That tracks."

Minne exhaled softly, her shoulders still tense as she leaned back in her chair. I stayed seated on the couch, staring at the coffee table like it might suddenly hand me an answer. Nothing came. Carrie was a wild card. Guy had been simple. A loud, arrogant idiot hiding behind money and a title. Carrie was different. She was doing all this because her son wanted to swap out his "toys," and somehow she thought that gave her the right to threaten everyone around me.

I leaned forward, grabbed my cigarette pack, and lit one. The flame flared briefly, then died as I took a long drag and let the smoke roll slowly out of my lungs. It hung in the air, curling lazily.

Minne watched me for a moment. The worry in her eyes softened, replaced by something gentler. A small, almost shy smile appeared on her lips.

"C-can you do the little bubbles, Master?" she asked.

I glanced at her. "Little bubbles?"

She nodded, sitting up a bit straighter. "The circle smoke things."

I let out a quiet chuckle. "Yeah. I can do that."

I took another drag, held it, then carefully shaped the smoke as I exhaled. A thin ring drifted forward, wobbling slightly before breaking apart. Minne's smile widened, and for a second, the tension eased for both of us.

Then, just as quickly, the moment faded. The same name crept back into my head, souring everything.

I cleared my throat. "How's your mother?" I asked, changing the subject. "Getting better?"

"Yes, Master," Minne said, nodding. "Day by day."

"Good," I said honestly. "I'm glad."

She hummed softly and looked down at her hands.

I took another drag and stood, walking over to the window. Outside, the snow was still coming down hard, blown sideways by the wind. The trees along the street bent unnaturally, branches shaking like they might snap at any second. It looked miserable out there.

When I turned back, Minne was checking her phone again. I couldn't help smiling at the way her brows furrowed in concentration. I took a few steps and stopped near her.

"So," I asked, "what's the plan? Stay up all night and sleep through the day?"

She shook her head. "I was going to drink some water," she said. "But… I didn't want to go back to my room."

I nodded, understanding more than I said aloud. I stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray.

"Mast—"

A quiet knock cut her off.

I froze, listening. Minne did the same. A few seconds passed, then another knock followed, just as soft. Whoever it was clearly didn't want to wake the entire penthouse.

I lifted a finger toward Minne, signaling her to stay put, and moved to the door. I peeked through the viewer.

Eleanor stood there, shoulders slumped with exhaustion. She was wearing a crop top and a skirt, her jacket unzipped. Her makeup had smudged slightly, and her hair looked like she'd run her hands through it one too many times.

I opened the door. "Eleanor?"

Her relief was immediate. "Thank god you're awake. I just got back from work and… I forgot my keycard again. Can I borrow yours?"

"You can ask the lobby," I said. "They'll—"

"I tried," she interrupted. "But since my room's downstairs and the penthouse is under your name, they wouldn't let me."

I sighed, then reached for the keycard on the shelf by the coat hanger. "Alright. Come on."

"Thank you," she said, already sounding half asleep.

Minne stood and gave Eleanor a small nod as I slipped my shoes on. Before I closed the door, I saw Minne heading toward her room, her steps slow and heavy with sleep.

"You started work today?" I asked as Eleanor and I walked toward the stairs.

"Yeah," she replied. "Charlotte wanted to see if I could handle bartending. Or waitressing."

"And?"

She let out a tired laugh. "Bad. I almost broke two wine glasses."

"You'll get better," I said. "Better than… being a… eh, you know what I mean."

"I know," she muttered. "Working is hard."

"It gets easier," I said. "I worked at a gas station before all this. I'd take bartending any day. Trust me. There would be less drunk people."

She looked at me. "Less drunk people?"

I snorted. "You have no idea how many drunks show up at gas stations after midnight."

We reached her door. I tapped the card against the reader. The light turned green and the lock clicked open.

Eleanor turned to me with a grateful smile. "Seriously. Thank you. You keep saving my bacon."

"No problem," I said.

She hesitated, one hand on the door. "I didn't wake you, did I? It's pretty late."

"Nah," I said. "I was already… uh… awake."

"Why?"

"Well…"

"I'll make the wildest fucking guess. You ready?"

"Be my guest."

"Carrie Beldenwary."

My eyes widened. "What, can you read minds now?"

She sighed. "I saw her the other day. And I figured there was no way you didn't get dragged into another mess. That she was here for another reason."

"Yeah. Fuck my life."

"What does she want?" Eleanor asked. "Something to do with Project Phoenix? I keep hearing about it like it's a myth."

"Nah, nah, nah," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "She wants to take someone important to me. And I won't let her."

Eleanor studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Personal, then."

"Yeah," I said. "But not tonight."

She exhaled. "Fair. I'm exhausted. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," I said, stepping back. "Don't forget your keycard next time."

She smiled faintly. "Yes, sir."

I turned and headed back toward the penthouse, the weight in my chest settling in again. Carrie wasn't just a problem anymore. She was a threat. And sooner or later, I was going to have to face her head-on.

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