Bound By Blood.

Ch.56~ I didn't mean it.

"The silence is deafening sometimes. 

Most times, its peaceful. 

But the times it isn't..."

Recovered Translated Correspondents Between Alexandra Brooks, to Death Eater Mattheo Riddle, 2004.

Undisclosed Location, 2003.

Alexandra. 

I'm not thinking clearly. 

My head won't stop spinning. 

It hurts to even try to begin to process what just happened. 

But, I couldn't allow myself down that hole yet. 

Right now I needed to find George. 

And explain to him, whatever he thinks he just saw... is not the case. 

It undoubtedly would've been in my best interest to ask Mattheo where he sent him to, before I slapped him and disappeared. 

But we had a system, George and I. Most of us from the safe house. 

If you get separated on a mission, which this was so far from, to meet at your last place before you left. You had thirty minutes to show up before the other person began to worry. 

For us, that was our bedroom. 

I rushed through the dimly lit corridors of the safe house, my heart pounding in my chest with each hurried step. 

I couldn't shake the cold grip of panic as I recalled how effortlessly Riddle had sent George back to my room, a cruel twist of fate that turned the tables on us. 

How wrong it must've looked. 

I opened the door to our bedroom, the familiar sights grounding me momentarily, even as the tension hung heavy in the air.

George stood by the window, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. 

He was practically radiating fury and concern as I stepped inside. 

The moment our eyes met, I could see the turmoil within him—hurt, anger, confusion. 

"What happened?" he demanded, his voice strained. "I thought—I thought they got you again."

"George, I—" I took a deep breath, gauging the storm raging in his gaze. "No one tried to get me. I... I just... there was a fight. It was my mess, my idea. I had to clean it up. That's all."

His eyes narrowed, suspicion etching deeper lines on his forehead. "A fight? Just a fight? You were—" he trailed off, shaking his head as if to rid himself of whatever terrible scenarios played out in his mind. "I saw Riddle. How he looked... concerned for you, Alex. What the fuck was that?"

"I told you it was a fight," I repeated, forcing calm into my voice. I couldn't let him see the truth, not now. Not when I was already feeling as though I was unraveling. "I was buying time. I... I didn't want him to get to you, I handed it."

"Buying time?" His voice was laced with incredulity. "You say it so causally, like you weren't in danger. You weren't in a situation where you could've been... hurt? Or worse? Why did he send me away, but keep you?!"

I stepped closer, putting my hands on his shoulders, searching his eyes for understanding. "Listen, I get it. It must've looked horrible, but I swear, I'm not hurt. I'm fine. He sent you away because the problem was with me. Not you. Nothing more, nothing less. Simply... who lit the match."