Page 91 of Hero of Havoc

Inching from the doorway, I try to remain invisible as I gently close it behind me, wincing as the catch echoes around the room, but everyone is too enthralled by the pain filling the space.

“It’s okay, Mom. I’m here; we’re right here. Everything is going to be okay,” he says softly, his words carrying through the air, and I realize it’s because her sobs have quieted, but they seem to carry even more torture with them.

What the hell happened here?

“A-A-Arch-Arch-Archer,” his mother sobs, and he quickly hushes her, stroking his hand over her cheek.

“Save your breath and focus on yourself; I’m right here, Mom. I promise I’m not going anywhere,” he insists, and the young girl worries her bottom lip.

As if sensing her worry, Archer tilts his face toward her. “Everything’s going to be okay, Arabella.” The repeated testament is aimed at her this time, but she doesn’t take comfort in his vow and she shakes her head.

“It was bad, Archer. Bad,” she repeats, tears streaking down her cheeks as Archer grimaces.

I can feel his pain from here, and I can’t stand it. Not for any of them.

Pursing my lips, I consider my options, and quickly narrow them down to two.

I can stand here, helpless and useless, waiting for Archer to fix his world back together, or I can help in whatever capacity I can, big or small.

My mind makes a decision before I can even register that I’m moving, taking slow, measured steps to my left as I approach the girl. Clearing my throat, I run my hands over my dress nervously as I muster the best smile possible.

“Hey, Arabella, right?” I murmur, and she glances at me from the corner of her eye, a subtle nod my only confirmation. “Hi, I’m Ivy,” I add, awkwardly introducing myself.

“The Angel,” she rasps, and I gulp, nodding in return as my old nickname lingers in the room. Only this time, it doesn’t feel like it comes with expectation and the need to control me. It’s just a simple observation.

“Are you⁠—”

“Archer’s sister,” she whispers, blinking, and the motion scatters another trail of tears down her cheeks.

“And is this your mom?” I clarify, not wanting to make any assumptions, and she nods, her bottom lip wobbling, and I instantly regret asking.

Instead of wallowing in unnecessary self-pity, I nod, clearing my throat as her mother’s sobs intensify.

Arabella swipes at her nose, a hiccup caught in her throat as she keeps her eyes fixed on me instead of glancing to the source of the sound. “I didn’t know what to do,” she whispers, her brows furrowing as she clenches her eyes shut.

“You didn’t need to do anything, Bella, but you did the right thing,” Archer insists, and I glance over my shoulder at him, only to find his pupils blown with pain and his shoulders hitched with tension.

Sympathy coats my veins as I take in the strong man before me. It’s clear I don’t know everything about him, but one thing is for sure: his world, his everything, all rest in this room. His true family.

They’re hurting, so he hurts too. I can see his pain, feel it in the air as it threatens to choke me as well. But I’m haunted by the way his pained expression dances between his mother and sister, as though he doesn’t know which direction to give his attention.

Rolling my shoulders back, I take a deep breath before moving closer to Arabella. “Hey, if it’s okay with you, I would love to see your bedroom. Maybe you could show me while Archer and your mom figure things out?” I offer, and she pries her eyes open, gnawing on her bottom lip as she considers my offer. I lift my hands in surrender. “There’s no right or wrong answer, just whatever you need. I’m here for you,” I promise, hating the way silent tears continue to slip down her cheeks, but to my surprise, I’m even more startled by the soft nod she offers.

Offering her my hand, I glance at it for a moment before peering toward Archer. I follow her line of sight, catching the moment he nods encouragingly, and my heart melts at the tiny smile at the corner of her mouth as she presses her palm against mine.

The second we’re connected, we move; our steps almost hurried but calm as we make our way to the stairs. Glancing over the banister, I find Archer whispering to his mother while watching Arabella and me, and my heart aches for him.

I feel like I’ve taken a step into his perfectly crafted life, and there’s no coming back from it, not even if I wanted to.

My heart races wildly in my chest as we reach the landing, and Arabella wastes no time dragging me down the hallway to the second door on the left. I freeze at the sight of a dried red handprint against the wood.

Whatever happened here was born in terror and sadness, but that’s for Archer to find out and for me to help Arabella escape, even if just for a little while.

Determined, I follow Arabella into her room, palms still smashed together as she closes the door behind us, revealing the prettiest room I’ve ever seen.

The bay window has a cushioned seating nook built into it that makes my heart scream with joy, the walls a soft pink, matched with off-white furnishings that creates the most serene energy. A chic cream netting hangs from the corners of the room, teddy bears filling each to the brim, while a double bed sits centered against the left wall. A desk is perched in the far right corner, but it’s the array of easels set up to my right that captures my attention. And Arabella’s too.

“Wow, who did that?” I blurt, pointing toward the center canvas, my feet carrying me toward it instinctively as Arabella releases my hand.