Chapter 17 Back to The Chaos

Chapter 17 Back to The Chaos
ALARIC HAYES

I didn’t mean to shout at her like that.

The second the words left my mouth in the cafe, I regretted them. Elowen’s face had gone pale, her soft grey eyes widening with hurt before she quickly looked down at the table. She looked so small sitting there, clutching her notebook like it was a shield. I hated that I was the one who made her look like that.

But her question had hit something raw.

“Are you okay?”

Four simple words, and they cracked something open inside me. Suddenly I wasn’t sitting in a quiet cafe anymore. I was back in that house, listening to my parents tear each other apart like they always did. Her question forced me to face the mess I tried so hard to ignore every single day.

I drove her home in complete silence, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles hurt. When she whispered “I’m sorry” one last time before getting out, I couldn’t even look at her. I just told her to get out and drove away.

Now, as I pulled back into my driveway, the regret sat heavy in my chest like a stone.

The house was still loud.

The moment I stepped inside, the shouting hit me again. My parents were still at it in the living room, voices overlapping and cutting into each other.

“You disappear for months and then come back acting like you have any right to judge how I run things?” Dad yelled.

“I came back because I heard you’re dragging Alaric into your dirty work!” Mom shot back. “He’s eighteen, Nate. He should be worrying about college and hockey, not whatever illegal shit you’re involved in!”

I stood in the hallway, unseen, listening to the same old fight. I couldn’t even remember when my mother had returned home this time. Two days ago? Three? She moved in and out of our lives like a ghost — here one week, gone the next. Never staying long enough for anything to feel normal.

I couldn’t remember the last time she had actually looked at me like a son.

Not with love. Not with worry. Just… nothing.

A memory flashed through my mind without warning.

I was ten years old. We were at the old house, the one before everything went to hell. Mom was in the kitchen making pancakes on a Sunday morning. Dad was laughing at something I said, ruffling my hair. The three of us sat at the table like a real family. There was no yelling, no tension, it was just warmth.

That version of us felt like a dream now. Like it belonged to someone else.

The sound of a glass shattering in the living room snapped me back to reality.

I walked into the room just as my mother grabbed her coat. Her eyes were red, makeup smudged. She looked right through me as she headed for the door.

“Mom…” I said quietly.

She didn’t even pause. Didn’t look at me. Just muttered something under her breath and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

The silence that followed was worse than the shouting.

Dad turned to me, his face flushed with anger. He looked tired, older than he should. The sharp features we shared were pulled tight with stress.

“How far have you gotten with the girl?” he asked, voice rough. No “how are you?” No “sorry you had to hear that.” Straight to business.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat.

“I’m still working on it,” I replied flatly. “She’s… slow to trust. But I’m getting closer.”

Dad nodded once, rubbing his face. “Good. We don’t have forever, Alaric. The people I work with are getting impatient. Find out what she knows about her father’s old security pin. Whatever it takes.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “I got it.”

He gave me a long look, like he wanted to say something more, but then just waved me off. “Go get some rest.”

I turned and headed upstairs without another word.

Once I was back in my room, the quiet felt suffocating. I dropped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Elowen’s face in the cafe, the way her expression crumpled when I raised my voice. The hurt in her eyes. The way she apologized even though I was the one who snapped.

I hated how much that look clung to me.

She had only asked if I was okay. A normal person would have brushed it off or lied. But something about her soft voice asking that question had made all the broken pieces of my family feel too real. Too close.

I turned onto my side, punching the pillow angrily.

Why did I even bring her here tonight? Why did I let her into my space?

She was supposed to be a job. A means to an end. My father’s orders were clear — get close, gain her trust, find the information. Nothing more.

But tonight had felt different.

And that terrified me.

I kept seeing the way she looked at me when the fighting started. It wasn't with judgment or with pity. Just quiet concern. Like she actually cared, even after everything I’d done to her.

I rolled over again, frustrated.

I should apologize. The thought came uninvited and I immediately pushed it away. Apologizing meant admitting I cared what she thought. It meant letting her in further. And I couldn’t do that.

Not when my family was falling apart.

Not when my father was waiting for results.

Not when getting too close to Elowen Bennett could destroy us both.

Still, as the hours ticked by and the house finally fell silent, her face refused to leave my mind. Those soft grey eyes. The way her voice trembled when she said she was sorry.

I turned off the light and lay there in the dark, jaw tight.

Tomorrow I would act normal. Cold. In control.

I wouldn’t apologize.

I couldn’t.

Because if I let myself feel anything real for her, everything would fall apart even faster.

And I wasn’t sure I could handle watching another thing I cared about break.