Chapter 190: What Gets Said Between Floors

Chapter 190: Chapter 190: What Gets Said Between Floors

They climbed together toward the upper floors, Erik peeling off with Vanya’s group at the twentieth-floor stairwell landing, the whole party pausing there for a final round of goodbyes before continuing on.

Persephone caught Penelope’s arm as the group prepared to split, leaning in with a grin that promised nothing good.

"I smell romance in the air," she said, delighted, glancing pointedly toward Erik and Vanya, who’d already begun making their way toward their own gate.

"You smell paint and blood," Penelope said, dry, though something complicated tugged at her chest regardless — not quite the old wariness, not quite comfort either, some unresolved middle ground she still hadn’t found language for.

"Both things can be true." Persephone’s eyes sparkled with obvious delight. "Come on, Penny. You’ve seen the way he looks at her. Tell me you haven’t noticed."

"I’ve noticed," Penelope admitted, quieter now. "I’m still working out how I feel about it."

Something in her cousin’s expression softened at that, the teasing easing back just slightly. "You don’t have to have it figured out tonight."

"Thank you for not pushing."

"I’m capable of restraint," Persephone said, mock-offended, before leaning in close enough that only Penelope could hear. "I’ll meet you in there. Once things settle."

Penelope squeezed her hand once, understanding exactly what she meant. "See you soon."

Killian fell into step on Penelope’s other side as the remaining group continued upward, having caught enough of the exchange to read the tension still lingering beneath her deflection. "Coffee, when we get home?" he offered, easy, unbothered. "I still owe you a rematch on whose brewing technique is actually superior."

"There’s no rematch. I already won."

"Debatable."

A real laugh escaped her, the tightness in her chest easing at the deliberate, gentle distraction, and Kai and Ben continued ahead of them, still mid-argument about video games, Ben’s steps a little slower than usual though he waved off every attempt Kai made to hover.

They reached the twenty-fifth floor’s gate a while later, and the moment they crossed through into the penthouse, Aunt Mary looked up from where she sat with Aurora, her welcoming smile fading instantly into sharp alarm at the sight of Ben’s blood-stained shirt.

"What happened to you?"

"I’m fine," Ben started, though Aunt Lucy had already appeared from the kitchen, taking one look at her son and crossing the room in three quick strides.

"Is that blood? Ben, what—"

"He’s fine," Kai said quickly. "Someone healed it. It closed right up, I swear."

"Someone stabbed you," Aunt Lucy said, disbelieving, hands already checking him over with frantic, maternal urgency, "and you’re telling me that like it’s supposed to reassure me?"

"We should go inside," Penelope said, already reaching for the pull of the space, understanding immediately that this conversation deserved somewhere the whole family could actually sit with it properly. "Let’s talk there. Aunt Lucy, Aunt Mary — come with us."

They gathered close, and the penthouse dissolved into golden fields a moment later, the space settling around them with its usual quiet, expansive calm — though Aunt Lucy’s fury hadn’t cooled at all in the transition, if anything sharpening now that she had room to properly pace.

"Explain," she said, rounding on Ben and Kai both. "All of it. Now."

Ben and Kai exchanged a look, both of them visibly bracing themselves, and launched into the story together — the ambush at the hardware store, the fight, the blade that had caught Ben across the ribs before either of them could fully react.

"You could have died," Aunt Lucy said, voice shaking now, more from fear than anger. "Both of you. Do you understand that? I already buried your father. I am not prepared to—" Her voice broke, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, unable to finish the sentence.

"Mom." Ben crossed to her immediately, gentle despite his mother’s continued, searching inspection of his ribs. "I’m here. I’m okay. I promise."

"You’re okay because someone happened to be there who could heal you," Aunt Lucy said. "What happens the day someone isn’t?"

Nobody had an easy answer for that, the question settling heavy over the whole gathered family.

Kai, for once entirely without a joke to soften the moment, stepped forward instead. "I should have been faster. I saw the guy coming and I wasn’t fast enough to stop him before he got to Ben. That’s on me, not bad luck."

"It’s not on you," Ben said immediately. "It happened fast. Nobody could have—"

"I’m still going to feel like it’s on me," Kai said, quiet. "That’s not something you can talk me out of."

Aunt Lucy studied both of them for a long moment, some of her fury finally softening into simple, exhausted grief. "I know I can’t keep either of you from going out there. I know that. I just need you to be more careful. Please."

"We will," Ben said. "I promise."

She pulled him into a tight hug, and after a moment’s hesitation, reached out to include Kai as well, holding both boys close despite the awkward angle it required, and neither of them complained about it at all.

Aunt Mary watched the scene with quiet, watery-eyed relief, Aurora babbling contentedly in her arms, entirely unaware of the fear that had just gripped the whole household.

Once the worst of it had settled — Aunt Lucy finally convinced enough of Ben’s actual wellness to loosen her hold, the family drifting toward their own corners of the golden evening — Killian glanced toward Penelope.

"Coffee?" he asked, quieter now, an offer rather than a distraction this time.

"Coffee," she agreed, and they made their way toward her own small house within the space, leaving the rest of the family settling into the quiet aftermath behind them.

She brewed it properly this time, no camp stove involved, and they settled into the familiar living room with the same easy comfort that had become routine between them these past weeks.

"Can I ask you something," Killian said, once she’d handed him his cup.

"Always."

"You’ve never really talked about your family. Not the Rykers — I know all of them. I mean before. Your parents, anyone else." He studied her carefully over the rim of his mug. "I didn’t put it together until tonight, watching you with Persephone. You have an entire side of your family I know almost nothing about."

Penelope considered the question for a long moment, something old and complicated settling behind her expression. "My mother’s side. The Azars." She wrapped both hands around her own cup. "My mother was Eliza Azar. My father was Allister Wolfe. Both of them died when I was young — murdered, actually, though I didn’t understand the full story until months into all this."

Killian went still, something careful entering his expression. "I didn’t know that."

"Not many people do, outside the family. Silver — my uncle, Eliza’s twin brother — raised Dahlia and Persephone on his own after that. I ended up with Aunt Mary instead. She was my mother’s best friend, her god-sister, practically. It made more sense at the time, given everything Silver’s business involved."

"His business," Killian repeated, something in his tone suggesting he already suspected there was more to it than the word implied.

"Logistics," Penelope said simply, deliberately vague. "Import, distribution, that sort of thing. Complicated, demanding, not exactly a world built for raising two little girls alone. It made sense for me to stay somewhere quieter."

"And you grew up separate from all that." 𝘧𝓇ℯℴ𝓂

"Mostly. Phone calls, the occasional visit. It never felt like real family until this apocalypse, somehow, which is a strange thing to admit out loud." She managed a small, wry smile. "I used to think I only had the Rykers. Now I have an uncle I barely know how to talk to and two cousins who’d burn the world down for me, and somehow both things are true at once."

Killian was quiet for a moment, turning the information over with the same careful attention he gave everything that mattered. "Thank you for telling me."

"You asked," Penelope said. "That’s more than most people bother to."

"What about your family?" she asked after a moment, turning the question back toward him. "You’ve mentioned your parents died. I don’t think you’ve ever told me much beyond that."

Something shuttered briefly behind Killian’s eyes before he answered, old grief surfacing carefully. "Both gone. Years ago now. I have an aunt and uncle technically still living — my father’s brother’s family. A cousin. An ex."

"You don’t talk about them like family."

"Because they’re not," Killian said, flat and certain. "Whatever blood connects us, it stopped meaning anything a long time before the world ended. I don’t consider myself an orphan by accident, Penny. I consider myself one by choice, as much as anything like that can be a choice."

Penelope studied him for a long moment, something gentle and unhurried in her expression. "That sounds like it cost you something to say."

"Less than it used to," Killian admitted.

"The ex," Penelope said carefully, something clicking into place. "That’s Sasha, isn’t it? I met her once. Back before all this, at one of the company events you dragged me to."

Killian’s jaw tightened slightly, though he didn’t look away. "You remember that."

"I remember she looked at you like she owned you," Penelope said, the memory arriving clear and certain even though, distantly, some part of her understood it wasn’t quite the memory it felt like — the meeting had happened, the impression had formed, and whether it belonged fully to her or to something she’d simply inherited along with this body hardly seemed to matter anymore, not when it felt this real, this hers. "I never thought she deserved you."

Something flickered behind Killian’s expression — surprise, maybe, or something closer to grim vindication. "Your instincts were right, then. It took me considerably longer to see her clearly."

"What happened?"

"She wasn’t who I thought she was," Killian said, careful, giving away only as much as he seemed willing to. "Neither was my cousin, as it turned out. I don’t particularly want to relive the details tonight, if that’s all right."

"That’s more than all right." Penelope reached over, resting a hand briefly on his. "You don’t owe me the whole story."

Killian looked at her for a long moment, something quiet and unguarded settling into his expression. "I’ve had this family instead, this past couple of months. Yours. It’s made all of that easier to carry."

Something warm settled behind Penelope’s ribs at that, quiet and unmistakable. "I’m glad you have us, then. All of us."

"So am I," Killian said, and neither of them moved to break the comfortable silence that settled over the room afterward, two cups of coffee slowly cooling, untouched, while the golden light of the space stretched on unhurried around them.