A/N: So I didn't want these ANs to get tedious to read. I can't respond to everyone the way I want.

But after maybe the worst weekend of my life, I would love to chat with some of you. If you want a DM reply just tell me to reply in the review. Some of you I haven't heard from in years, so it would be lovely to catch up.

Sorry for the delay. I wanted to write this weekend and actually ended up experiencing the loss of one of my favorite people. It's been very surreal and blurry since then. Patience is appreciated, as are your opinions on this newest chapter. I feel like I'm dragging stuff out. I wish this story was Reunion-style, in the verse-like chapters I was writing before. But it came out originally this way and who am I to change it. It's alive!

Disclaimer: James Patterson owns the characters and any recognizable canon info. Thanks JP, for this chaotic universe you gifted us.

SORRY FOR TYPOS. DID NOT PROOF READ. I WILL BE DOING EDITS THROUGHOUT SOON.

M

"God," Nudge says, walking fast to fall into step with me, crossing her arms against the chill. We stand above the house, looking down from a distance. "I haven't thought of this place in so long."

"I always thought it was bigger," Angel says, curls blowing in her face sporadically due to the wind.

I remembered it exactly. I remember the feeling of the floors under my bare feet and the smell of the most comfortable couch in the universe—positioned before that giant window in the living room.

I remember the house exactly how we left it. We knew we were never going to come back. The moment Erasers found us anywhere, that was a no-visit list. We broke the rule a few times, but never with the house.

It felt wrong to go back, maybe. To pretend.

Now it feels wrong to see the house so much differently. It's hard not to, though. No one has said anything, and maybe they aren't surprised to see it—but I can barely see past the multiple black sedans and police vehicles parked along the sloped front yard. It's barely even dawn but the lights are all on. To be honest, we got here early hoping no one would be here. But this place is crawling, even this early. People file in and out of the house, some carrying boxes, some carrying cameras.

It hits me. Even if we'd been earlier, there's no way we're supposed to go in there without them. This is not our home, or our property—it's only a crime scene.

"Alright," I say, pushing my wings open, stretching them a bit. "Let's go down there. If it gets to be too much, we can take a break. But let's try to stick together."

On the ground, the house looks more haunted than it should. Abandoned for some time, the spare foliage along the front of the house is overgrown. The house itself has clearly been vacant for a long time—there's even a partially broken window. I wonder if Erasers did that, long ago—or more recently.

We don't approach without being noticed. By the time we are circling to land in the yard, every person has frozen to watch us. A woman in a suit steps forward from the porch, looking at me expectantly.

"Alana?" I presume, stepping forward and tucking my wings in. I still feel the eyes on me. Different than the eyes of an awed crowd. These eyes are calculating, presumptuous—and suspicious. My skin is crawling and I want to get inside as soon as possible.

She smiles tightly. "Max. Thank you all for coming at such short notice. I wanted to brief you quickly, before we go in."

That makes me pause. I look over to Fang, who looks back at me, puzzled.

"We know you've got Jeb Batchelder in custody," I say. "Is there more?"

She frowns slightly. "I don't want to alarm you, but I have a feeling what we show you today is going to be disturbing. Jeb Batchelder has been taken into custody after evidence was sent to my office." She looks at each of us separately, and she looks like this conversation is making her very uncomfortable. "I can't begin to say I understand what you've been through. But documents from Jeb Batchelder's personal files came to me in an email. Including information that led us to believe he was here. This is where we found him."

Fang's hand slips into mine. I don't look back at him but I squeeze, nodding along with Alana's explanation. I have questions on top of questions, but I bite them back.

She pauses for a long moment, considering her approach. "How many rooms are in this house, do you know?"

"Seven," Iggy says immediately. "Bedrooms."

"Jeb used one as an office, but the rest were bedrooms," Nudge adds.

She nods. "Okay. That's what we thought. But this house is not what you think it is."

None of us say a word.

Fang's fingers are squeezing.

I feel as if I'm teetering over an edge. For a moment, I regret this part. The digging deep part. It's the right thing for justice, but we've gotten comfortable away from all the pain. I almost don't want to know what's going on.

"This structure behind you is eight levels."

This is when my mind goes into panic mode. Immediately the scene before me, once eerie and reminiscent of my life before, is a strange, façade like place. I do not know this place.

I clearly do not even know the half of it.

She begins walking toward it, gesturing, talking about how these are the top two levels of an underground structure that goes six more stories into the ground. At least 40 rooms. Soundproof, secure locking system. Structurally secured and locked level by level. Only half of the rooms they've been able to access.

None of us have moved. She has taken ten or fifteen steps before she realizes.

"Max?"

I blink. Pull my fingers from Fang's and step forward, clamping my hands together. I step toward her and say quietly, "Come on, guys."

"There was no one else here, nor does it look like anyone else had access," Alana says gently. "The property is technically owned by the company, but it seems only Jeb spent time here. Jeb, and you."

"This was only ever a house to us," Nudge blurts. Her voice is high and quivering, which confirms what I had suspected: we are all shook. This news is like being hit by a truck. "We didn't have any idea."

Alana knows this already, though. She nods and frowns a little. "Neither did we. Only after we had Batchelder in custody and began to do a sweep did we find the entrance to the other levels. It seems as if the house was built atop an underground lab."

"Fuck," Iggy expresses. I look over and watch him run his long, deft fingers through windblown hair. "This is a joke."

Alana stops fully, and turns to him. She nods. "I know this is hard to believe. It's going to only get harder." She levels me a look. "Things are recorded in here that you may not know. The man archived like I've never seen before."

I'm torn. Part of me is screaming Show me! because I need to know. The other part, the part that remembers what this place was to us—well, that part is hiding behind the demanding part. So demanding wins.

I look over at my Flock. There is a lot of uncertainty, fear, and all-around discomfort on their faces—but they harden their looks as I scan them, facing me with brave looks that say We can do this.

But some part of me, a part that seems to have woken up only in the most recent years, makes me hesitate still. We're all willing to step into this mess, and take whatever it has to throw at us. But why do I still want us all to just duck and cover?

Because you know it's going to try to break you.

Things try to break us all the time. We're together and we've got this. We've handled everything else. And could it really be that bad?

I swallow, staring past Alana now at the house. The sun is coming up over the mountains, a sight I remember welcoming after many sleepless nights. We would pile up right there in the living room, toss and turn sleeplessly in a pack. And in the morning, Fang and I would be awake already to watch the sun rise. We always sat in total silence and just witnessed it. Something so peaceful, finally rescued from hell. In our safe haven.

Safe haven no more.

"Okay," I say, nodding finally. "Let's see it."