Avery had two things left in this world — a fire that wouldn't die and a boy who couldn't afford to.
The small apartment felt colder than usual, even though the heater hummed weakly in the corner. The faded curtains fluttered slightly as a weak breeze slipped through the cracked window frame. Ethan lay curled on the worn-out couch, clutching his well-loved teddy bear as if it held the power to keep the sickness away. His chest rose and fell shallowly, every breath fragile, uncertain.
Avery sat beside him, her hand gently brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead. The dark circles under his eyes twisted her heart, but she swallowed her fear. Tears were a luxury she couldn't afford—not now. Not with the weight of everything pressing down on her.
She looked around the tiny living room — the peeling wallpaper, the threadbare rug, the scattered toys that no longer brought joy. This was their world now. A world that demanded she stay strong.
Her fingers tightened around the crumpled letter she'd found two days ago. It was stained with coffee and folded so many times the paper had started to tear. But the name scrawled in jagged handwriting was clear: Dante Harlan. The only clue she had about the people who had taken everything from her — her parents, her past, her peace.
Avery's jaw clenched as memories flooded her mind. The night her parents were taken. The screams. The cold silence afterward. No one had come for them. No one had stopped it.
Her parents were gone, but she still had Ethan. And she had a promise — a vow whispered in the darkest hours — to make whoever was responsible pay.
The fire inside her burned hotter than ever, fueled by grief and rage. She would find them. She would make them regret ever crossing her family.
But first, she had to keep Ethan alive.
Avery rose slowly and moved to the small kitchenette, careful not to disturb Ethan. The cold linoleum floor sent a chill through her bare feet as she searched the cupboards for whatever food she could find. The shelves were nearly bare, save for a few cans and a half-empty box of crackers. She grabbed what little she could and warmed it on the tiny stove, the faint smell of burnt oil reminding her how little she could afford.
As the food heated, Avery leaned against the counter and closed her eyes for a moment. She let the weight of exhaustion press down on her shoulders, the kind of tiredness that sleep alone couldn't fix. The kind that came from carrying a burden no one her age should have to bear.
Ethan's cough echoed softly from the living room, and she pushed the fatigue aside. When she turned back, her eyes caught a faded photograph taped to the fridge — her parents smiling, arms around each other, their faces full of hope and love. It felt like a lifetime ago.
Avery swallowed hard and shook the memory away. Nostalgia was a dangerous trap, one she couldn't afford.
Dinner was quiet. Ethan picked at the crackers, barely touching them. Avery forced a small smile, reminding herself that any food was better than none. After the meal, she wrapped him in a blanket and sat beside him on the couch, pulling him close.
"You're going to get better," she whispered, tracing patterns on his forehead. "I promise."
Ethan looked up at her with wide, trusting eyes. "Will you stay?"
"Always," she said, her voice steady even though her heart ached.
The night stretched long and silent, save for Ethan's occasional cough and Avery's restless thoughts. Plans for revenge twisted through her mind like wildfire. She'd spent hours piecing together every scrap of information about Dante Harlan, the man whose name was now a curse on her lips.
Somewhere out there, he held the answers — and maybe the power to bring her justice. Or destruction.
Avery clenched her fists. She wasn't sure which was more terrifying.
As she finally settled against the wall, exhaustion claimed her, but the fire inside never dimmed. Tomorrow, she would move closer to that dangerous truth — for Ethan, for herself, for the life they deserved.Avery's eyes fluttered open to a memory that never quite left her—no matter how much she tried. It was a night painted in shadows and screams.
Her parents' voices echoed through the house, frantic and desperate.
"Stay close, Avery," her mother had whispered, voice trembling but firm. "Promise me you'll stay safe."
Her father's footsteps pounded through the hall as he tried to protect them, but the terror was unstoppable.
She remembered the cold steel pressed against her father's temple, the flash of a knife, the sound of glass breaking. The sudden silence that followed.
And then the muffled sobs she buried beneath her pillow, too afraid to cry out loud.
That night, everything changed.
Her parents were gone.
Avery swallowed hard, fighting the flood of grief. But tears wouldn't save them.
She had to be strong—for Ethan.
she glanced at the small boy sleeping beside her, fragile and pale in the dim light. His tiny hand twitched as he dreamt, and she silently prayed he would wake up healthy.
Her revenge wasn't just about anger anymore. It was about justice, about protecting the only family she had left. Every step she took from now on had to count.
She reached for the letter again, tracing the name Dante Harlan with trembling fingers.
Tomorrow, she would start moving.
The hunger for revenge burned in her veins, but it was hope for Ethan that kept her walking through the fire.
****
The morning sun filtered weakly through the cracked blinds, casting long shadows across the cluttered floor. Avery was already awake, sitting at the small table with a worn notebook spread before her. The pages were filled with messy scribbles—names, dates, places—all pieces of a puzzle she was desperate to solve.
Beside her, Ethan stirred, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he tried to sit up. "Morning, Avery," he whispered, voice hoarse.
She smiled softly, pushing her dark hair behind her ear. "Morning, little warrior. How're you feeling?"
Ethan shrugged but gave a faint smile. "Better, I think."
That was enough for Avery. She handed him a glass of water and watched as he took small sips. Every day was a battle—not just with his illness but with the creeping fear that one day, she might not be able to keep him safe.
As Ethan played quietly with his toy cars, Avery's mind raced ahead. The letter with Dante Harlan's name burned in her pocket, a constant reminder that the past wasn't done with them yet.
She had no choice but to chase it down. No matter what it cost.Avery sat back on the threadbare couch, the crumpled letter clutched tightly in her hand. Her eyes scanned the jagged handwriting once more—an address scrawled beneath the name Dante Harlan.
Her mind raced, heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. This was it. The thread she could follow. The key to answers… or danger.
For weeks, she had lived in the shadow of grief and uncertainty, but now the fire inside her demanded action. She couldn't wait. She couldn't hide.
Ethan stirred beside her, coughing softly. Avery's gaze softened, then hardened. "I have to do this," she whispered. "For you. For us."
She stood, moving to the small table where a battered backpack lay waiting. Inside were the few things she could carry—some cash, a flashlight, and the crumpled letter.
Her fingers trembled as she folded it carefully, slipping it into her jacket pocket.
This wasn't just about revenge anymore. It was about survival. About reclaiming their future.
Taking a deep breath, Avery glanced at Ethan, who looked up at her with sleepy eyes.
"I'll be careful," she promised.
The weight of the night pressed down on her as she opened the door, the bright hallway light flickering above. The world outside was cold and unforgiving, but it was also the only place where she could find the justice she sought.
One last look at her brother, safe for now, gave her the strength to step into the street
The hunt had begun she knew.