Chapter 11
Roxana
Dinner was… awkward.
The table was set, the food smelled incredible—steaming rice, grilled meat, warm bread—but the chair across from me sat empty.
Kieran plopped down at the head of the long, obnoxiously fancy table like we weren't dining in the quietest, most uncomfortable house on the planet. He tossed me a grin, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth without ceremony.
"Eat up," he said, talking through a mouthful of rice. "It's not often I cook for guests. Hell, it's not often I cook at all."
I poked at my plate, appetite missing. My eyes drifted to the closed hallway door, the faintest light spilling from the crack beneath it.
"He's still in there?" I asked, keeping my voice level.
Kieran didn't even glance over. "Hasn't come out since I punted him into the couch."
I gave him a look, arms crossing. "Is that your usual parenting method?"
"Worked, didn't it? He shut up." Kieran shrugged, popping another bite into his mouth. His hazel eyes crinkled with amusement, but there was something sharp behind the humor. The kind of sharp that came from too many years of watching someone fall apart and knowing you couldn't fix it for them.
"You're not worried?" I pressed, leaning forward slightly.
"Oh, I'm plenty worried," Kieran admitted, setting his fork down. "But forcing him to talk never works. Stubborn as hell, that one."
I let the quiet settle for a moment, the ticking clock filling the space. Finally, I asked, "How'd you end up… raising him?"
Kieran smiled faintly, the cocky edge softening. "Wasn't exactly my plan. Back when I was still an active Dusker, my orders were to… well, let's just say Zero wasn't supposed to survive the mission that day."
My eyes widened. "What?"
Kieran leaned back in his chair, fork dangling from his fingers as his hazel eyes softened just slightly. "I met him when he was seven."
I tilted my head. "Seven?"
"Yeah." His usual teasing grin faded for a moment, replaced with something distant beneath the bluster. "Found him during a Vatican raid. Should've been routine. But instead… we found him."
He paused, the silence stretching like a weight between us.
"I felt pity for him," Kieran admitted, voice low but honest. "I know I'm not exactly father material. But when I looked at him…" His eyes glazed briefly with memory. "I dunno. Maybe I wasn't as cold-hearted as I thought I was. What was I supposed to do? Just leave him there?"
My throat tightened. Even without knowing the whole story, I could picture it — a terrified little boy in the middle of chaos, eyes too old for his face.
"You didn't have to take him in," I pointed out softly.
"No." Kieran shrugged, his grin creeping back with a touch of weariness. "But I did. And trust me, raising that kid? Not the easiest choice I've made."
I traced the rim of my glass, studying him. "You don't regret it though… do you?"
Kieran's brow arched. "Regret?" He scoffed under his breath, leaning forward, elbows on the table. "Kid drives me insane, I'll give you that. Stubborn, reckless, thinks carrying the world on his back is a personality trait. But regret?"
He shook his head, a faint smirk curling his lips. "Never."
Before I could dwell on it, the faint sound of movement upstairs caught my attention—a creak of floorboards, muffled footsteps.
Kieran's eyes flicked upward, listening. His grin returned, sharper this time. "Speak of the devil…"
The faint thud of footsteps hit the stairs, slow and heavy, like the person descending was being dragged by sheer obligation.
I straightened in my seat just as Zero rounded the corner, disheveled as ever—messy black hair hanging over his eyes, dark circles more pronounced beneath them, jaw clenched like he'd rather be anywhere else. His wrinkled T-shirt clung to his frame, pajama pants still hanging low on his hips, clearly having made zero effort to look remotely presentable.
His eyes darted toward me first, then Kieran, narrowing with thinly veiled irritation.
"Seriously?" Zero grumbled, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "You're bonding now? Over what—how much of a screw-up I am?"
Kieran didn't even flinch. "Aw, c'mon. You're the highlight of the conversation, kid." He leaned back, grinning wide. "It's not every day your roommate gets to swap tragic stories over dinner."
Zero shot him a look so sharp it could cut glass, then turned that same glare on me. "What'd he tell you?"
"Relax," I replied, crossing my arms. "Your deep, dark secrets are still safe. For now."
Zero scowled, muttering something under his breath. "I hate both of you."
Kieran clapped him hard on the back. "Love you too, son." Zero grumbled something incoherent under his breath as he stomped past us, his footsteps heavy with exhaustion and attitude. He moved straight to the cabinet by the sink, pulling it open with more force than necessary. My eyes drifted to the familiar bottle tucked behind the neatly stacked boxes of tea—small, unmarked, filled with crimson-red tablets.
The same ones I saw Ellis force Zero take before.
Zero popped the lid off, shook a few into his palm, dry swallowing them without any water. His expression remained unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders screamed louder than words.
"Oi," Kieran called after him, tone light but edged with something firmer. "You're not seriously ditching dinner? Come on, stop being such a damn loner."
Zero paused mid-step, his back to us, head tilting just enough to cast a dark glare over his shoulder. His dark brown eyes practically smoldered under the kitchen lights, framed by those heavy circles beneath his eyes.
"I'll pass," he muttered, voice low, laced with venom. A string of curses followed under his breath as he turned away, disappearing down the hall toward the stairs. He said something under his breath, a string of curses—something about noisy old men—and disappeared up the steps without another word.
The quiet settled over the kitchen like dust.
Kieran watched him go with an exaggerated sigh, ruffling a hand through his messy brown hair. "He's been like that since he was a kid. Runs from every decent meal like I'm trying to poison him."
I huffed, folding my arms tight to my chest. "Why does he have to be such a jerk all the time?"
Kieran arched a brow, clearly amused but keeping it to himself.
I stared at the space Zero had left behind, jaw tight. "I just… I don't get him. One second, he's cold—angry at the world—the next, he's…" My voice faltered, the memory creeping in, unwanted but vivid.
The blood. The bodies. The way my friends—what was left of them—lay broken on the floor. And Zero, towering over me with that same viciousness burning in his eyes… until he saw my face.
"He told me to cover my eyes… to block out the screaming. He stayed with me—helped me breathe—when I couldn't even think straight."
I shook my head, frustration curling in my chest. "It's like he has two different personalities. I don't know which one is real."
Kieran's expression finally softened, his teasing edge falling away. "They're both real."
I frowned at him.
"He can be cruel," Kieran admitted, resting his elbows on the table. His gaze drifted toward the stairs, quiet for a moment. "Probably learned some of that from me, if I'm being honest." His voice dropped lower, rough with old regrets. "But despite all that pride, despite how much he pushes people away… he cares. He feels the damage he causes. You just won't see it until he thinks no one's watching."
"You really believe that?" I asked, wary but desperate to understand.
"I would know." Kieran's eyes met mine, steady. "I used to be a Dusker too."
***
Dinner wrapped up in awkward silence after that.
Zero never came back down. His heavy footsteps upstairs were the only reminder he was even still in the house. Kieran kept the conversation light, but the tension hung between us, unspoken and lingering like fog.
Eventually, Kieran stood and stretched, cracking his knuckles with a faint grin. "C'mon. You should at least know where not to get lost in this place."
I followed him through the house, the sound of my shoes tapping against polished floors echoing faintly. The deeper we went, the more out of place I felt.
The walls gleamed with pristine white stone, paintings with thick gold frames hung in perfect alignment, and every corner screamed luxury in ways I'd only seen in the Capitol or the fancier Helios quarters. Crystal light fixtures, velvet couches, towering windows draped in sheer curtains that let the moonlight spill through like liquid silver.
This wasn't a house—it was a mansion.
Kieran chuckled under his breath as I tried— and failed— to hide my awe. "Yeah… Vatican funding. Gotta love it."
I trailed behind him up the grand staircase, my hand brushing the polished banister, eyes wide as we passed tall archways and immaculate hallways. Everything felt too big, too far from the war-torn streets I came from.
We reached the second floor, the hallway stretching wide with doors lining either side. Kieran pointed casually. "Your room's down there—two doors down on the left."
I stepped closer, spotting the heavy wooden door with a brass nameplate already engraved with my surname: Algiers. The realization settled in my chest like a weight.
This is my home now.
Kieran's hand clapped onto my shoulder lightly before gesturing to the door across the hall.
A large, hand-painted sign was taped to it in bold, messy lettering:
"DO NOT DISTURB. EVER."
I blinked, unimpressed. "Let me guess…"
"Zero's room." Kieran smirked. "Subtle, isn't he?"
"Yeah… subtle," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
The faint thud of footsteps inside hinted he was still awake, but no part of me wanted to knock. Not tonight.
Kieran turned, walking a few steps ahead, voice dropping just enough for me to catch, "Welcome home, Roxana."
I lingered in the hall a moment longer, eyes flicking between my door… and Zero's.
Home, I repeated silently to myself, unsure how I felt about that word just yet.
***
The unfamiliar creaks and distant hums of the house did little to soothe my restless mind. I tossed and turned beneath the crisp sheets, my thoughts spinning with the weight of everything new—this home, Kieran, Zero, and the uneasy silence between us all.
Finally, I gave up, sitting upright with a groan, staring at the clock hanging on the far wall. It was two in the morning.
A sudden, sharp crash shattered the silence—glass breaking, accompanied by muffled yelling echoing down the hall.
My heart jumped.
Careful not to make a sound, I slipped from my bed and eased the door open just enough to listen.
Guilt pricked at me—eavesdropping felt wrong—but what could be so urgent at this hour?
The harsh voice I recognized immediately—Zero's—cut through the quiet.
"Why the hell did you accept those orders?! It's already bad enough that I have to be her bodyguard, but now she has to live in our house too? Just what the hell is the Council thinking?! This has got to be some fucked-up joke!"
I didn't need to see Kieran's face to know he was calm; his voice was steady, like a rock.
"You know members of the Vatican cannot decline direct orders from our leaders. You were assigned to watch her. Perhaps they thought it best she stayed close to you."
Zero's voice cracked with frustration, nearly a shout. "I don't give a crap about what those bastards say! They chose the wrong person to protect her! Have they forgotten what I am?"
A strangled sob broke through, raw and unexpected.
"A monster like me has no right to protect Elaine… I almost lost control earlier today. What if it happens again? What if I hurt her?"
I bit my lip, stepping silently into the hallway. Down the staircase I crept, my breath catching in my throat.
There, in the dim glow of the landing light, Zero knelt, shoulders shaking, trying to muffle his cries against Kieran's chest.
Kieran's arms wrapped around him, one hand rubbing slow circles along his back, the other gently cradling his son's head.
Kieran's eyes caught mine just as I froze at the top of the stairs. His smile was small, pitiful—an unspoken apology.
Tears stung my eyes as I backed away quietly, the fragile image burning into my mind.
I wanted to reach out, to wrap my arms around him, to tell him he wasn't alone.
But this was their moment—not mine.
All I could do was watch from a distance as the hero I thought I knew slowly unraveled.
And in that unraveling, I glimpsed the truth beyond the façade.