Athaliah Kensington's Pov.

I was running. Running away from people who are out there hunting me. I hid behind a tree, catching a breath. I know they are there. In the shadows. Watching. Waiting. The air grows thicker, heavier, as if the very atmosphere is clinging to me, trapping me in a cage of dread. A sudden crack of a branch beneath my feet sends a sharp thrill of panic shooting through me.

I tried to run again. But my legs won't move. They're frozen, rooted to the ground, as if the earth itself has become a part of my fear, holding me in place. Panic claws in my throat. I struggle, fight against the invisible force, but it only tightens its grip. And then, just as I think I might break free, I hear it—the sound of footsteps.

Slow. Purposeful. They are getting closer.

And then, I heard a whisper—closer to me. "Run."

It's a voice. A low, guttural voice. The voice of the one who leads. It's a command, not a plea. It's the voice of someone who knows my every move, every weakness. They've been watching me. They've been waiting for this moment. I am almost there. The end of the forest, a distant light flickering like a beacon of hope. But I can still feel them, feel them, the killers closing in. The temperature drops as if the very night is feeding on my fear, suffocating me, making every breath a struggle.

And then, I heard a voice behind me. "You're not going anywhere."



I wake with a gasp, my heart hammering so violently it feels as if it might break free from my chest.

The room is silent. Too silent.

But the echoes of the nightmare cling to me like a shadow. The chilling whispers. The sound of footsteps that never stopped, the sickening laughter that raked through my bones. I blink, frantic, trying to shake off the remnants of terror, trying to remind myself that I am safe. I have to be.

It's 3 a.m. right now. I sat with my knees pressed against my chest. I took my moment to gather myself. Four years ago, I was diagnosed with Disruptive Nocturnal Behaviors along with PTSD. It has become a normal occurrence ever since I escaped from the claws of those monsters.

I know I can't get back to sleep now. But I need to keep myself busy. If not, I will go back to the same fear that I dreamt of just now. It was not a dream. It was a memory. What happened after they caught me was worse.

I remember this house also had a gym. Perfect for me to let off some steam. I got up from bed and freshened myself. I went to the gym which is on the west wing of the second floor. Entering the gym, I saw that the gym is spacious and is organized with various gym equipment, including treadmills, stationary bikes, and free weights.

But what I need right now is to box. I brought my own boxing gloves which are my comfort gloves. These are simple and black in colour. It also has a little ZV imprinted on it. It was a gift that my mom gave to me four years ago.

"You killed our mother."

"You know Athaliah, you can never escape from us."

"Just a little more pain, then you will be numb to it."

"She killed our mother. She is mentally sick."

The voices in my head were determined not to leave my side today.

However, the sound of my fist hitting the heavy bag is like thunder crashing, a cathartic roar that is slowing drowning out all the noise in my mind. Each punch is a battle cry, a release of frustration, of anger, of everything that's been weighing me down.

As the seconds pass, my thoughts begin to fade. I didn't realize it was now 6 in the morning. I packed my stuff and went to freshen up in my room.

It's now 8 in the morning. My blood relatives must be in the dining room for breakfast. It would be hilarious to break the dining rules again but after today's nightmare and my boxing session, I do not want to feel other emotions that will most probably rile me up. So, choosing my peace over obnoxious behavior, I kept my phone in my room and went straight to the dining room.





Ezekiel Kensington's Pov.

I heard footsteps. Athaliah must be coming to the dining room. She was covered from head to toe in black. She was wearing black jeans with a white tee and a leather jacket. Basic but elegant. Also, rebellious.

Being a lawyer and second in command to the Italian mafia, it is my job to read the room as well as the people present in it. And I must say that my little sister is hard to read. She sat on the right of the head chair which once used to be Zephyrus's place.

But well, who is complaining. He has silently shifted to the next chair because this way he is sitting closer to Athaliah. Considering none of our brothers know how to initiate a conversation with a teen, I took it upon myself and said, "Good morning, sweetheart."

"Morning."

"Did you sleep okay?" I asked to continue the conversation.

"Well, I have a hard time sleeping in unfamiliar places."

That hurts a little because this is her own house where she spent 7 years of her childhood.

"Sorry your highness, we did not realize we were committing a sin by bringing you from familiar trash place to this luxury." My sweetest brother Reuben decided to intervene.

"Oh, believe me, this sin of yours is nothing in front of the ones that you guys did in the past."

Nobody had an answer to that. So, we focused on eating. Most of the dishes made today were Athaliah's favourite.

Suddenly, Zephyrus took her plate and started filing it.

"You know I am perfectly capable to make my own plate." Instead of replying to her, Zephyrus placed the plate, now filled with food, back in front of her.

By her face expression, I can say she is furious now.

Rather than eating the one which Zephyrus made, she made her own plate and started eating it.

Zephyrus didn't say anything, instead, he smirked whereas Aldric watched all of this with a hint of smile on his face.

However, Royce took the plate that Zephyrus made for our little sister and started eating it with Kaelen.

"Don't worry Zephyrus, we can finish it. It is not every day when Zephyrus Kensington himself sets your plate. I am going to relish every bite of it." Royce spoke while stuffing his mouth.

Zephyrus royally ignored his comment.

"After finishing breakfast, come to the living room. There are some things that need to be discussed." Aldric said, making her nod positively.

I know what he wants to discuss and ask her. We prepared it last night, how to question her without making it look like an interrogation. Because one thing that we came to know about our little sister is that she is defiant. She will not just listen to you and comply with it. That is her one trait which is in our favour because being in mafia, we need to think of our actions and their consequences. She is not the same seven-year-old girl giggling and enjoying herself with her brothers.

She has changed. A lot.

Let's see how this "discussion" works out.

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Here is the next chapter guys. Hope you like it. Please do vote and comments.

Also, once again I am reminding you guys to please comment on the cover look that you guys think is the most suitable.