Chapter 138
Some nights, I’d peek in on them, whispering in each other’s ears, giggling, plotting, dreaming. I remembered all the battles we’d fought as a family, the chaos we’d endured. And I realized… maybe this was just the next kind of chaos. Less deadly. More exhausting.
I smiled, exhausted but proud. Because Alexander at sixteen? Unstoppable. Lila by his side? Dangerous. Me trying to control it? Pointless.
But I’d watch, always. Step back, interfere when necessary, and brace myself for the next plan, the next adventure, and the next prank. Because life with a sixteen-year-old Thorne wasn’t calm. It wasn’t safe. And it wasn’t boring.
It was exactly what it should be.
Alexander
Honestly? Life at sixteen is… complicated. And I don’t mean emotionally, though yeah, that too. I mean logistics, schemes, missions, chaos—you name it. Being a Thorne kid doesn’t come with a manual. It comes with a warning label: Handle with care, explosive tendencies guaranteed.
Lila and I had perfected the art of trouble. Not just little mischief, like stealing cookies or switching teachers’ chalk with colored markers. No. We had plans, operations, codes, and distractions. It was like a full-on campaign, and the city? Our playground.
Today started like any other. Lila barged into my room at 6:15 a.m., hair a mess, eyes sparkling, and whispered, “Operation Neon Skatepark. You in?”
“Already dressed,” I said, throwing on my hoodie and jeans. Sneakers tied tight. Backpack loaded. The usual.
She grinned. “Good. Because of this one? This one’s risky.”
“Everything with us is risky,” I reminded her, grabbing my skateboard.
She smirked. “Exactly why it’s fun.”
We hit the streets before the city fully woke up, sneaking around alleyways, hopping fences, and dodging cameras. Every step calculated. Every glance is part of the plan.
I don’t even know why I liked this life so much. Maybe because danger made everything feel alive. Maybe because Lila made me feel invincible. Or maybe it was just in my blood. Thorne blood. You get used to winning… or at least surviving.
By mid-morning, we’d hit three “targets.” One was a closed skate park surprise! We weren’t supposed to be there. Another was the old library roof. Technically not illegal, but the janitor had a very firm opinion about us being there. Third was the neon graffiti wall downtown. That one was purely art. Mostly ours. Definitely chaotic.
We were crouched behind a dumpster, laughing so hard we almost got caught by a delivery guy. Lila’s eyes shone with mischief, and I felt that familiar rush: this was our kingdom. Our rules. Our chaos.
“You think my mom and yours know?” Lila asked.
I shrugged. “Nah. They’re busy. Dad’s probably buried in some meeting. They’re clueless, and Uncle Lucas is dealing with patients.”
She laughed. “We could be famous for all the trouble we pull.”
“Yeah, we could also be grounded for life,” I said.
She elbowed me. “Life’s boring if you’re not risking something.”
And she was right. Life at sixteen was all about risk. But I had a feeling this particular risk would be… memorable.
After our little morning spree, we crashed at the diner near the boardwalk. Coffee for Lila (hot chocolate for her, obviously) and a black coffee for me. We sat in our usual booth, laughing, sketching out our next “campaign” on napkins.
“Think we can get past security at the museum?” I asked, scribbling a little blueprint of the front doors.
Lila leaned over, eyes narrowing. “With the right distraction? Yeah. But you’re in charge of distraction. No pressure.”
I grinned. “Perfect. I can handle distraction.”
She elbowed me again. “This is why I like you. You’re reckless.”
“Reckless and charming,” I corrected.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh please. Don’t get cocky.”
By the time we left the diner, the city was waking up. People on their morning jogs, cars honking, dogs barking. We moved like shadows, invisible and untouchable. I loved it. Loved the adrenaline, the planning, and the thrill of bending rules just enough to get away clean.
Later, we made our way to the skatepark, the one that technically wasn’t ours. Neon paint cans hidden in our backpacks, boards under our arms. Everything is ready. We scaled the fence like pros, landing perfectly on the other side.
“This is insane,” Lila whispered, her grin wide.
“Insane is our middle name,” I said, and she laughed so loud I had to cover my ears.
We painted. We tagged. We laughed. And then, just when I thought we were untouchable, the security lights flicked on. Red beams cutting across the park like lasers. My stomach dropped.
“Run!” I shouted.
We sprinted, hearts pounding, sneakers screeching against concrete. The thrill was insane, terrifying, and perfect. I felt alive. Dangerous. Invincible. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this would be a story Mom and Dad would hear about eventually. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But eventually.
By the time we got home, the sun starting to dip below the skyline, we were exhausted, paint-stained, and grinning like maniacs. Lila flopped on my bed, sprawled out, hands behind her head.
“You’re crazy,” she said.
“And you love it,” I replied, tossing my skateboard onto the floor.
She smirked. “True. Can’t argue with that.”
I checked my phone. No messages from Mom. No texts from Dad. For once, we’d gone unnoticed. At least for now.
Dinner was quiet. Mom glanced at me and Lila once, eyebrows raised, but didn’t say much. Dad… well, he was reading a file like nothing was happening in the world. I smirked at Lila. “We survived.”
“We always do,” she whispered.
Later that night, I lay in bed, replaying the day. Sneaking, running, laughing, dodging… everything that made life feel like a game. I could almost hear Mom’s voice in my head. Alexander, stop. And yet… it felt like survival training. For life. For everything.
At sixteen, rules were optional. Chaos was mandatory. And Lila? She made it all worth it.
I knew Mom and Dad would eventually step in. Probably. But for now? We were unstoppable.
Xander
I’m beginning to suspect that being a Thorne parent isn’t just about love or guidance. It’s a full-on tactical operation. Honestly, some days I feel less like a dad and more like a general coordinating a special ops mission. And right now? Operation: Keep Alexander and Lila Alive and Out of Serious Trouble is in full swing.
It started with breakfast. I walked into the kitchen, coffee in hand, ready to issue orders or at least gently remind the kids that the real world has rules. Alexander was already there, hair sticking out in all directions, shirt half inside out, smearing peanut butter on toast like he was reinventing breakfast as an abstract art form.
“Morning, champ,” I said, trying to sound casual.
“Morning, Dad!” he shouted, practically bouncing off the counters. Lila was there too, grinning like she’d just solved world hunger.
I knew that grin. That dangerous, plotting grin. I’d seen it when they teamed up to steal my car keys when I was in the garage for five minutes. That grin was trouble. Pure, concentrated trouble.