"Why didn't I know this?" Christine asked, still finding it difficult to believe Bea was Spencer's mother. She recalled every time she had met the woman of cold elegance and indeterminate age. There wasn't a hint of a clue she might have missed.

"I don't know. Ask Kepler!" Dylan's eyes were fixed on the steel door of the elevator as if urging it to move faster by the sheer will of his mind.

"You know Kepler," she complained.

"I know Kepler, you know Kepler. What are you asking of me?"

"But if it's not a secret—"

"It's not, but relations and relationships need no advertising. They are vulnerabilities you learn to guard or at least not talk about. You know what we do. What do you want me to say? Everyone is entitled to his own secrets."

"Anything else I need to know? Is Rebecca your sister? Taylor your lost daughter?" Her sarcasm forced him to look at her for the first time since he had almost dragged her out of Kepler's apartment towards the adjoined apartment building where he and Bea lived.

"No and no."

He was right to avoid her eyes. What she saw there was pure rage. She averted her stare to avoid the feeling it evoked…not exactly fear but something very close to it. She didn't know what kind of anger Dylan nurtured inside. How he expressed this short temper of his. Christine had managed to stun her own self when she had found solace in fantasies of violence the night of the alley attack. She stole a glance at Dylan, who was looking calm but obviously barely restraining himself and, as always, she adjusted to the situation. Her own frustration drained and she felt calm and composed in a way she was certain she wouldn't be if she had Kepler—cool and collected Kepler—by her side. Perhaps she was so calm because she was not certain yet that Beatrice was behind all this.

Dylan, though, seemed very certain. Watching him, she realized anger was palpable, that it had more than a life of its own. It had a body of its own and now it was wrapped around him like an invisible glove, possessed him, altering his body language. It was evident in the way he kept his stare fixed straight ahead, clearly unaware of what he was looking at, in his fingers stretched flat against his thighs as if trying hard not to clench them into fists, in the stern line of his lips. The skin on his face seemed stretched, too, as two thick veins zigzagged across his forehead, starting from the wrinkle of his frown, marring the balance of his features until they disappeared into his thick hairline. Not for the first time that night she wondered whether he was on the brink of a heart attack.

"Dylan, we may be wrong in this." She wasn't certain he heard her. "If we're right that means Beatrice used Kepler's bloodied shirt, or bandages, or whatever, on her own son's graft. Is she even capable of that?"

He didn't turn to look at her.

"You'd be amazed by what people are capable of."

"But why?"

"Believe me, I have every intention of finding out."

His palm landed hard on Beatrice Gardner's door. She realized he deliberately didn't use the bell. The effect was thunderous. His palm slammed again and again against the wooden surface and he kept pounding on it even after Beatrice peeked through the eyehole and asked for some time to get dressed.

"What is it? What happened?" Bea asked worriedly, wrapping a dark purple satin robe around her slim frame.

Dylan stepped in and Christine followed him, more focused on him and the possible need to restrain him than anything else. She followed his gaze towards the muted TV set and the tray laden with a half-finished bowl of soup and a glass of white wine. He picked the mobile phone up from the couch and handed it to the older woman.

"You'll call your son right now and tell him the game's over and now the adults will sit down—again—and fix his screw-up."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Beatrice's hand as she placed the phone on a nearby table was not as steady as her dignified tone.

"Cut the bullshit, Bea. I know what you did. All of it! You, lying to my face, pretending to worry when you sent those men after Kepler and JC. You sent the graft to JC's workplace. I know what your son—the gift that keeps on giving!—did, so now you will help me to fix this before someone gets seriously hurt. Now!"

He towered over her with the next step he took, forcing her to take a few steps back. Christine had raised her hand to reach for his arm when Beatrice looked down, offering a barely audible whisper.

"Spencer wouldn't let anyone get hurt." Her admission froze Christine. Until that moment she'd have bet Dylan was wrong.

"Yes, like last time." His sarcasm was hard, unrelenting. "Do you think Kepler is safe there on this wild-goose chase for your son? You know what it cost him to erase himself from the map the first time and now your son, that attention-seeking spoiled brat, risks Kepler's…safety just to feel appreciated."

Acid came up in Christine's throat. She was certain Dylan had at the last moment censored himself for her sake. He'd placed his body in front of Bea, concealing the woman from her sight. All she could see was his broad back and part of Beatrice's flushed face.

"You just can't believe that Spencer could trick Kepler, manipulate him into doing what he was supposed to do from the start. I have faith in my son. He told me he'd force Kepler to take action, to end this once and for all. Don't we all want that? You, too, Dylan?"

"You are not serious." He raised a hand as if wanting to rake his fingers through his hair in that gesture that was so familiar when Dylan was upset, but the hand fell by his side and clenched into a fist.

"Spencer is a good kid. Smart. Caring. He always loved Kepler. He never wanted to hurt him. No one was supposed to know…. Everything went wrong…" She threw a glance at Christine before she focused on Dylan again, "He told me he'd prove his value to all of you, his good intentions. His honesty. He always wanted the best for everyone. How was he supposed to predict that Kepler would go to Phase I and risk his life after all that mess? Even I didn't know that when it happened. I didn't know such a thing was even possible! Kepler took a conscious decision to risk his own life, not Spencer! My son never forgave himself for what he did—"

"Spare me the drama, Bea. I'm not Kepler. I don't know why he's so lenient with you. Maybe you made him hot cocoa sometime in the past and he can't forget it but I have a mother and I know what having a good mother means."

Beatrice flinched at his hurtful words but lifted her chin in defiance. Christine took the extra steps that brought her closer, now able to look at both their faces. Tension radiated from Dylan's body in waves. His profile was distorted by his frown, his nostrils flaring as if taking air required extra effort, his head bent trying to look straight into Beatrice's eyes. He looked more like an animal ready to attack than a rational man. Christine understood him, but was antagonizing Beatrice a good strategy?

"Mothers owe their children unconditional love, not unconditional justification of their narcissistic behaviors, especially when they have already proven to be dangerous to others. Let me tell you this: your son is dangerous!" he hissed the words one by one. "After all this, Spencer should be locked up." Beatrice's gasp didn't stop him. "I'm not talking about prison, since he's innocent of the crimes he's accused of, but he should be committed and treated properly. He needs help. Professional help and proper medication. And you don't help him by feeding his delusions."

"Don't be ridiculous," she tried to brush the thought away but Christine could see fear in her eyes, "you just can't comprehend that Spencer outsmarted Kepler."

"I have no problem admitting Spencer is smarter than I am. As for Kepler…if that's what all this is about, let them do an IQ test and figure it out. Let's say Spencer wins. Do you think I give a damn? Look where it's gotten him. Eating his flesh. Carving his flesh out to make us worry about him. Congratulations! You should be really proud of your healthy prick of a son."

Bea shook her head as if not wanting to hear more.

"Kepler did this to him. He never forgave him."

Christine knew the woman was right—Kepler had never forgiven Spencer—but wasn't it his right? Since when was forgiveness obligatory? She felt she had to say something but she was stunned by Beatrice's tone, sickened by the blame in her voice. The venom.

"So, now it's Kepler's fault. Not Spencer's. Not even Gallagher's." Dylan's smirk was mean, sarcastic. The dark blond stubble shading his jaw was unable to hide the muscle working there.

"He's like a virus, a parasite taking what he wants from people…he found a brother in Spencer, a mother in me and where's my son now? Did he try to prove Spencer's innocence?"

"You know he did everything—"

"Nonsense. He should try harder. If it weren't for my son he'd be collecting food from the garbage like he and his mother did when they lived—"

"Enough!"

Christine took a step back at his thunderous voice. Silence reigned in the room. Only their breathing broke it for what seemed like long, endless minutes. Tension vibrated between them and their stares …demanding, accusing, calculating, blaming…they signaled a whole different battle. Beatrice seemed to shrink before him.

"You'll give me Spencer's phone number, you'll show me the way you communicate with him—"

"No." No matter the cracks in her armor, her refusal was an unbreakable wall.

"Bea, think. If Spencer was healthy would he act this way? Would he ask this of you? I can't imagine you enjoyed it, you didn't have objections…. If he was at peace with what he did in the past, with his motives, he wouldn't have chosen to be in that limbo for years—"

"I told you! If Kepler had forgiven him, he'd start to forgive himself—"

"—He insisted on being a part of the team even after everything that happened. He insisted on you replacing him as if it's a joy to be in that shit. If I were him, I'd leave Kepler—the man who didn't understand me— in this pit of snakes and start a new life in a part of the world where no one knew who I was or what the Library is. A clean slate. New people, new relationships." He took a deep breath. "Why don't you see it? Spencer needs help. He's taking medication but it's clearly not working. At this point, whoever supports his decisions harms him. You're not doing him any favors."

"My boy had the guts to do what all of you wanted, but only begged Kepler to do," she spat the words sharply. "Kepler lost his drive, his focus on the cause." The short tilt of her head silently acknowledged Christine as the culprit behind that lack of motivation.

"There's no point in this. I'll text Kepler to return since all this is Spencer's doing. We'll let Spencer play alone in the playground he created."

"No!"

"Why? If you have such faith in your son's intellect, he'll find a way out of this."

"You don't understand—"

"I refuse to understand this madness! Give me a way to contact Spencer and I'm sure Kepler will go pick him up. He'll arrange for him to come back safely and with your aid he'll get the help he needs. I'll see to that personally."

"No—" Her voice trailed off as Dylan turned his back on them and started writing a message. He strode towards the door, stepped just outside the apartment and they heard him talk in a low voice.

Knowing he couldn't have reached Kepler so fast, Christine recognized this as her cue. She didn't know what to say to change the woman's mind. Her hand was reaching towards the snow globe sitting on a shelf by her side when Bea's strict voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Don't!"

"I'm sorry." She hated her defensive tone as her hand fell to her side. That woman—or her son—had paid people to attack her in that alley. To hurt Kepler while being among the very few people who knew of his new identity as Radek. Where had her anger gone? Had Spencer been trying to expose Kepler to her that night?

"I'm sorry," said Bea in her usual cold voice but she sounded tired, drained and surprisingly unable to hide it now that Dylan wasn't present anymore, "I want some order in life even if it's just in a toy. I hate it when people shake it to see the moving snow. Spence used to do that all the time just to tease me. 'Grow up, Mom!' That's what he said—" Christine nodded, pretending she understood. "Have you ever wondered why our first instinct is to shake the ball and watch the mess?" Christine wanted to argue that the imitation of falling snow was beautiful but she realized there was no point in pursuing this. "Imagine if God works that way…. Have you ever wondered if we're His puppets and He's just watching? For fun? Out of curiosity? What if the only difference between us and this ball is size and some sparks of intelligence?"

"Beatrice, this is not God's will or fate's or whatever. You choose to remain silent—"

"I won't betray my son." Her face was a tragic mask of confidence pasted over doubt and uncertainty.

"Is it betrayal? In a situation like this?" Hadn't he betrayed his friends?

"I have faith in Spencer. In his mind, in his plans. In his good intentions—" Her voice broke. "Why can't anyone see this? Not you, but Dylan, Kepler. They know who Spence is." There was desperation in her tone.

"Do you have the same faith in Kepler?"

Beatrice looked at her curiously.

"Are you certain that he won't do something that will ruin Spencer's plans? If nothing else, Kepler is unpredictable when he improvises." She used Dylan's words from long ago hoping they were true. "Can you predict what Kepler will do when he's in such a state?" She could almost see the worry building in the older woman's mind. "You said yourself you hadn't predicted Kepler would enter Phase I. Neither did Spencer."

"Spence said that this time his actions will be crystal clear. No one will be able to doubt him or his loyalty again." But she had started to doubt him. It was obvious. Christine tried to feed her insecurity.

"I'm sure you doubt Kepler's reactions. If I go to him, if you help him find Spencer and I'm with him, you know he'll be more cautious. He won't do anything irrational or risky." She took a deep breath, not knowing what else to use. "Kepler once told me you were the definition of mother in his mind." Would flattery help her?

"I don't want him to be hurt but he also hurt Spence and nobody acknowledges that. He is responsible for what's happening now—"

Christine brushed her forehead with the heel of her hand in despair. It was a maddening circle. They could go around again and again without ending.

"Have you changed your mind, Bea? Are you going to show me how to contact Spencer?" Dylan's stern voice was welcome. A part of Christine wanted to grab Beatrice and shake some sense into her.

"You know where I stand, Dylan." She was adamant as she faced him again.

"Then you might need to explain this to Rebecca." Dylan stepped aside and a slightly disheveled Rebecca appeared at his side, buried in a long, oversized sweater and a pair of yoga pants. Without makeup she looked barely older than her daughter.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Beatrice, shaking her head. "I see no use—"

"I do. Rebecca is part of team the way you are. The way I am, Kepler or Spencer. She's entitled to know firsthand why we manage to be our own worst enemy, yet again." His eyes were hooded when he spoke. "I'll help any way possible so that Spencer returns safely and receives the medical care he clearly needs but after that, Bea, I want you out. Out of the team, out of my life…I don't want to see you again. I know I'm not the only one to decide this but I'll do everything in my power to make it happen. And if the others won't agree I'll remove myself from this deal. In this life you reap what you sow and we haven't learned our lesson yet. JC—" He held the door open for her and closed it behind them both as they stepped into the corridor outside the apartment.

Christine watched him lean against the wallpapered wall, his eyes locked on the wooden door as if guarding it.

"Rebecca knows not to let Bea communicate in any way with Spencer until we know where he is. And she will persuade her to talk." He sounded confident.

"Are you certain it's a wise choice? Rebecca up until now didn't even know about the graft."

"I explained a few things to her. I trust her."

Christine followed his lead when he slid down the wall and sat on the thick carpet, his forearms resting on his knees casually. The tension seemed to have left his body. Dylan's anger was short-lived but thunderous. "You get ugly when you're angry, JC." Her mother's reprimanding words unexpectedly came to mind. She smiled at the thought. Maybe her mother was right but at the time she was angry she couldn't have cared less how she looked.

"This is Spencer's 'leader quality'?" She couldn't restrain the bitterness in her voice.

"Don't do that, JC, not now." He scowled at her before letting his forehead rest on his knees. "I can't believe I made excuses for him just an hour ago—" She thought he looked defeated but then she realized what it was: he felt hurt, betrayed. And if Dylan felt like that, what would it be like for Kepler when he found out?

"Don't blame yourself—"

His eyes when he turned to her were sad, the lines around them deeper. "Spencer always had a hardness in him. Not cruelty but hardness. At times, it'd proven essential, even life saving. He had this ability to see liabilities and deal with them before they caused any harm. He has done that in the past, more than once. I never had it. When it comes to people, I'm full of doubts." Christine knew the feeling. "There was a time when he was a good leader."

"An ability he's clearly lost now."

"He was a good leader but not any more," he repeated as if needing to hear the words, to believe them. "He had the ability to see the bigger picture, he wasn't afraid to act or quarantine the sick party."

"Do you think he might physically hurt Kepler?"

"No. I don't believe that. Not intentionally anyway. For what it's worth, I hope Kepler remained true to his principles and is prepared for something like that. A man who trusts no one cannot be betrayed. At least not by anyone but himself." He threw a glance at the door before turning to her again. "But can a man trust no one?"
She had no answer to that. She just watched him brush his large palms over his face and take a deep breath before he buried his fingers in his hair. "Nothing worse than the damned blindness of people who believe they're doing the right thing. We all got short-sighted—" His voice trailed off.

They remained silent for a while, watching the door, until Christine felt she would crawl out of her skin. She got up and started pacing before him.

"So Rebecca was supposed to play the good cop. For a minute I thought that was my role and I found nothing to say." How long had they been there waiting? What was supposed to happen next?

"There's no good cop role. Rebecca is a mother. She knows Spencer. They have a history together. He owes her. Beatrice owes her."

Just when she had been ready to form an assumption, she was clueless again.

"You pushed her too hard." She recalled the older woman's change in composure when Dylan had left.

"Let her hate me. I'm not calling the shots. Some serious decisions must be made when Kepler's back. She has to know the options, no matter how grim they are. It'll be easier to accept his decisions. I won't let Spencer play us like his own personal puppets even if it's for the greater good. The goal does not justify the means. Spencer was always the strategist but there is a limit to his tactics."

She leaned against the wall just beside the doorframe. She couldn't hear anything. Christine inwardly cursed insulation and modern luxury apartments. Only her apartments had paper thin walls.

"Spencer still has power. The lawsuit, the accusations, his fleeing the country have hurt his reputation but he still has great influence on a certain network." He had her attention now. "He could create trouble. It's essential for Kepler to find him and stop whatever his plans are. Kepler has the respect Spencer has lost but in their field, people are suspicious of the authorities. Many would help Spencer for a variety of reasons. And Bea knows that. That's why she's inexcusable. She knows what's at stake here—"

"For a moment I thought you'd lose it. You seemed ready to snap—"

"With Bea?" His smile was wan. "I hope I'd need a lot more than that to start hitting women."

"I wanted to slap her," Christine admitted, avoiding his eyes.

"Next time."

She looked at him, incredulous.

"What? I said I wouldn't hit a woman. You can do whatever you want." His smile was teasing now.

"I thought I didn't condone violence but recent events have surprised me."

"Bea has this self-righteousness that can drive anyone crazy."

"And that bun—"

"How does she do that? Even at this hour, there was not a single hair out of place. And it's not a wig—"

They shared a guilty laugh as if it was a sin to laugh when there was so much going on. Christine crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm sorry I thought you did that." She was gravely honest this time.

"I forgive you," he replied in a mocking-magnanimous tone. "Your thought, though, turned out to be right—" There was a pained expression on his face. Once more she thought of Kepler. Betrayal had a bitter taste.

"At the beginning I wasn't very fond of you," she added in an apologetic tone. "Of course that's not the case now."

"We can define 'now' as the last couple of hours." She noticed he raised that brow Cassie had commented on. It was hardly intimidating. "Don't worry, JC. Even though it hurts you didn't instantly like me—because I'm a very likable person…no worries. I grow on you. It's the nature of my subtle charm when the overt type doesn't work."

"So you have a backup charm mechanism," she teased him back.

"Which I rarely have to use—" He stretched his legs on the carpeted floor. "Of course, I have to point out that even though your train of thought led us to this, you were not able to imagine a woman as the baddie. If that's not sexist, I don't know what is."

A shrug was the only answer she gave. She knew he was taking revenge for her "chauvinist" comment earlier.

"And if I remember correctly, you said you were 'bitch enough' to think of Spencer—"

"Yes, but I stupidly discarded the thought."

"You know that's sexist, too, don't you? Bitch?" He grimaced in distaste.

She shrugged again. "Even when I'm talking about myself?"

He nodded. Her grimace showed how little she cared. She felt good seeing him relaxing. What was happening to him, to Kepler, was unfair and crazy and really stupid. She wanted it to end.

"Will she do it?"

He didn't need an explanation.

"I'm not a betting man but if I was, I'd bet money on Rebecca."

"I'm a betting woman but I wouldn't bet on anyone right now. I just wish we could reach Kepler."

"As soon as he switches on his phone he'll call. It's better to have something concrete to tell him."

"When he calls I want to talk to him." Dylan nodded his understanding. It was so good she didn't need to pressure or persuade him. "You seem calmer now."

"Spencer will not hurt Kepler. I want to hurt Spencer but Kepler is not like—"

He stood up quickly as the apartment door opened beside Christine. Rebecca had a bitter smile on her face as she locked eyes with Dylan.

"This is the laptop Bea used to contact Spencer. I have her phone here." She handed them to him, closing the door silently behind her.

"How is she?" Regardless of his previous words Dylan's voice showed care.

"What did you expect? She said she'll take a pill to sleep."

"I'll get these to Olek." Dylan had already retrieved his phone from his pocket and was striding towards the stairs.

"Don't forget me when you hear from Kepler."

He murmured something Christine assumed indicated his agreement as he disappeared at the next turn of the corridor. Wringing her hands, she tried to hide her bitten nails as she slowly walked towards the elevator with Rebecca by her side. She needed to do something. Waiting was killing her.

"I know Kepler didn't tell you I was with him in that video."

Christine wished she were an actress. Even then she doubted she could have hidden her shock.

"How do you know he hasn't told me?" she asked defensively.

"Because you'd start to look at me differently. I'd have known."

"Why would I look at you differently?" She tried to appear cool and nonchalant when she felt nothing like it. She was envious of Beatrice, her cold composure, even her unshaken bun, when she felt shocked and jealous and slightly sick in her stomach.

Rebecca took a cigarette from the pack she magically produced out of her sweater's hidden pocket and knocked it on the shiny black and red surface absentmindedly. The night had taken its toll on her, too, but compared to Dylan she looked as if she was just having a bad hair day.

"I don't know what you think of us, JC." Christine was happy her thoughts were obscure. At the moment, she inwardly urged Rebecca to light the cigarette she was glancing at so longingly and set off the fire alarm so she could get away. Preferably running. Why didn't Kepler tell her? "Dylan sees us as a tribe. Ask him what he means when you have time—" She smiled to herself and Christine could not decipher whether it was at Dylan's expense, sincere or sarcastic. Her mind had become stuck in a very OCD way on the weird phrase, "that woman has touched Kepler," and she was unable to set herself free of the constant repetition. If nothing else, she felt betrayed he hadn't saved her the embarrassment.
"No matter what you think we are…good or evil, damaged or broken, we do have needs like everyone else." That certainly grabbed her attention. "It's hard to let anyone in your life—it takes guts, he has to be worth the fight—" Had Kepler fought for her? "Especially if you have a child, you can't take risks—"

"So that's what you're trying to tell me? What happened between you and Kepler was…needs…being satisfied?" She had heard of sex being compared to food or drink but sex with Kepler? She'd never buy that.

"Is it so hard to believe?"

"And why Kepler? Why not Dylan?" If Cassie was right he had a soft spot for Rebecca.

"No," she shook her head, discarding the idea. Her deep black hair brushed Christine's arm, leaving a sweet scent behind that made her grit her teeth in annoyance. What was wrong with her? She knew Kepler had a past. She had a past, for God's sake. Why would it feel so much better to believe all Kepler's past lovers were dead and ugly? Or at least faceless?
"Dylan would take it all too seriously. I didn't want that with him or with Kepler." On the verge of punching her, Christine allowed some sanity to penetrate the jealousy-induced pulp her thoughts had become. Had she understood right? Was there a time when Rebecca had had feelings for Spencer?

Rebecca shook her head in denial at her unspoken question, making her feel transparent.

"Spencer would never have me. Saving a person doesn't mean forgetting. He could never see past my past. Kepler is not like that. I don't see why you can't believe it was just sex. Great sex but just sex. It happens to women, too, you know." She had the smile of an experienced woman but it didn't reach her eyes.

Christine wasn't sure she believed in Rebecca's indifference towards Spencer but she hardly cared. Still, everything was clearer now. Kepler, a man who didn't judge people by their past, and Rebecca, a woman who didn't judge him by his face. Understanding didn't lessen the jealousy. Suddenly, she wished she'd known Kepler before Phase I. She wished he'd never touched another woman. How silly and unrealistic was that? Wasn't possessiveness a man's trait?

"See? You look at me differently now." Amused accusation laced Rebecca's tone.

"I know how awful this will sound—on more than one level—but I think I'd be more understanding if you had forty extra pounds on your hips alone." She was lying. It was more than that, so much more, but that was all she allowed herself to share at the moment.

Rebecca's smile turned into full laughter, which made her catlike eyes shine irritatingly. Christine restrained her snort with effort.

"I've never seen Kepler so crazy about anyone—or anything—in his life. You do know what I'm talking about and how surreal, inconvenient for us all, that is. Jealousy is the last thing you should feel at the moment."

"Then what should I feel?" Christine challenged her. Deep down there was embarrassment—she was behaving like a defiant adolescent but Rebecca's patronizing tone pushed all the wrong buttons.

"Fear—" Had Beatrice confided something to her she had kept from Dylan? The pause didn't help Christine's nerves.
"—in case you cross him. Betray him. No matter what he thinks, Kepler's not alone. He has people, friends. Now that you're in, you can't walk away that easily. Not without consequences. I know people who could give your pampered little fairy tale life some very living, breathing nightmares."
Christine feared her jaw had literally dropped. Her pampered little fairy tale life?
"Growing up without a daddy and being a teenaged orphan is not necessarily the worst thing in life."

"Since I know Kepler didn't tell you any of this, I'm flattered you checked me out." She'd bet anything on this. "Are you sure what you had with Kepler is in the past? That doesn't sound like just 'needs satisfied'—"

"I'm not in love with him, if that's what you ask. But I could easily hurt you, if you hurt him. He may allow himself to be vulnerable to you but I won't allow you to use it." Rebecca could be tough. She could be harsh and intimidating. Perhaps even dangerous, but amazingly, Christine could do nothing but smile in awe. Kepler, the larger than life, distrustful of anyone—but her—Kepler had a family. People who would defend him the way Dylan had defended him to Bea, people who had his back the way Olek Alionin did at the moment.

She shouldn't be surprised. Stranger things happened in life. Her smile at Rebecca didn't falter. She felt confident. After all, she didn't have to do anything to prove herself. Time would do it for her.

TOWDNWTBN, Vale... thank you!

Stay safe everyone!