Don walked back inside the house, his mind already shifting away from Cassie and focusing on the next steps in his plan.
He was t with the soft shuffle of footsteps as Samantha, still half-asleep, made her way toward the kitchen.
She was dressed in a loose pajama set—a light pink tank top with thin straps and matching shorts that barely reached mid-thigh. The fabric was thin, clinging lightly to her curves, and the set was clearly designed for comfort, with its soft, worn-in look.
Samantha rubbed her eyes, letting out a yawn as she caught sight of Don. "Donnie?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep. She blinked a few tis, clearly surprised to see him. "Where are you coming from this early?"
Don quickly realized she must not have seen the note he'd left on his door. "I went out for a run," he explained, keeping his tone casual. "I left a note on my door in case anyone ca looking for ."
Samantha's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Oh, I must've missed it," she admitted, looking a bit flustered. "I didn't expect you to be up so early. I was planning on heading out early myself—to sort out the details of my leave in person. And I was going to pick up so painkillers and ointnt for you on my way back."
Don appreciated her concern, but he couldn't resist the opportunity to play on her guilt a little. He saw the perfect opening to make her feel more invested in him.
As she asked him if he wanted anything for breakfast, a tab appeared in his augnted reality, displaying his training plan's recomnded breakfast: oatal with mixed berries and almonds.
"Do we have oatal, mixed berries, and almonds?" he asked, keeping his expression neutral.
Samantha looked at him curiously, her brow furrowing slightly. "Are you on a diet or sothing?" she asked, clearly puzzled by the request.
Don seized the chance to deepen the guilt. "No, it's just what I used to eat to help myself recover from jobs back in Calambia," he said, adding a slight edge of nonchalance to his voice. "That, and it was cheaper. I'm just used to it now."
Samantha's expression softened, and he could see the flicker of guilt in her eyes. The thought of him having to endure such hardships made her feel inwardly hurt. "Oh," she murmured, her voice full of uncertainty. She clearly didn't know what to say, and the image of Don struggling alone in a harsh environnt weighed heavily on her mind.
There was a mont of silence as Samantha processed what he had said. Eventually, she offered, "I'm not sure if we have all that, but I can buy them for you. Or I could leave my card, and you can go with Amanda once she wakes up."
Don considered his options, quickly realizing that the latter suggestion was perfect. It would give him a chance to interact with Amanda, an opportunity he couldn't afford to pass up. "Going with aunt Amanda sounds like a good idea," he replied, giving her a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks, Mom."
Samantha nodded, still looking a bit lost in thought, her guilt lingering as she watched Don head toward the stairs. She wanted to say sothing more, to alleviate the weight of what she was feeling, but the words didn't co. Instead, she watched him go.
Don, for his part, didn't alleviate her guilt. He simply walked up the stairs, leaving Samantha to her thoughts.
Don reached the top of the stairs, feeling satisfied with how his morning was shaping up. But just as he rounded the corner, he nearly collided with Sumr, who was groggily making her way to the bathroom.
She was barely awake, her hair tousled from sleep, and clutching a towel loosely around her chest.
The sudden encounter startled her, and in her half-asleep state, she almost dropped the towel. But she managed to catch it just in ti, clutching it tightly against herself as she glared at Don. "Watch it!" she snapped, her voice sharp despite her drowsiness.
Don raised an eyebrow, unfazed by her outburst. "First of all, you bumped into ," he replied coolly. "And second, rember the deal from yesterday?"
Sumr grumbled sothing unintelligible under her breath, clearly not in the mood for a confrontation but unwilling to let it go completely. "Whatever," she muttered, shifting her grip on the towel to ensure it stayed in place. She eyed him suspiciously, as if expecting him to pull another stunt. "Why are you up so early anyway?"
"I went for a run," Don answered, shrugging nonchalantly. "You should try it soti. It might help with those thunder thighs of yours."
Sumr's eyes widened in outrage, her sleepy haze dissipating in an instant. "Thunder thighs?!" she yelled, her voice echoing down the hallway. She looked ready to throw sothing at him, but Don simply smirked and reminded her again, "Rember the deal, Sumr."
She clenched her jaw, visibly restraining herself. "You're such a jerk," she hissed, her voice low and venomous. But instead of continuing the argunt, she turned on her heel and stord toward the bathroom.
As Don started to walk toward his room, the door opposite his creaked open, and Aunt Amanda stepped out. She was wearing a short, silky nightie that hugged her curves, her hair slightly mussed from sleep. She rubbed her eyes and blinked at the two of them, clearly still waking up.
"What's with all the racket?" Amanda asked, her voice still thick with sleep as well. She gave Don a sleepy smile, shaking her head in mock disapproval. "I forgot how noisy mornings were when the two of you are under the sa roof."
Sumr pointed an accusatory finger at Don, her eyes still smoldering with irritation. "He started it," she declared, as if that justified her outburst.
Don rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Seriously? Are you still five?"
Sumr opened her mouth to retort, but then she hesitated, clearly rembering the deal she'd made. Instead of lashing out, she shot him a frustrated look, spun on her heel, and marched into the bathroom. "I don't care," she muttered loudly enough for him to hear.
Don smirked, knowing he had her trapped. "That's not sothing soone who's nice would say," he replied, enjoying teasing her.
Sumr froze in place, her hand on the bathroom door. For a mont, it looked like she might explode, her frustration boiling over. But instead, she forced a tight, strained smile onto her face and said through gritted teeth, "What I ant to say was, 'Bye, dear brother, and good morning.'" With that, she entered the bathroom and slamd the door behind her.
Amanda raised an eyebrow at the exchange, clearly curious. "What was that about?" she asked, her tone playful but with a hint of suspicion.
Don just shrugged, feigning ignorance. "Beats ," he replied, keeping his expression neutral.
Amanda didn't look convinced, but she let it slide. "Uh-huh," she murmured, before changing the subject. "So, why are you up so early?"
"I went out for a run, and—" Don proceeded to tell Amanda what he and Samantha had talked about.
Amanda's face brightened upon hearing the information. "That's perfect," she said. "We can get most of what you need from my farm. Fresh produce, eggs, whatever you're looking for."
Don nodded, thinking that would work out perfectly. He hadn't expected the day to line up so well, but it seed like he'd have a productive day ahead. "Sounds great. I'm looking forward to it."
As Don prepared to head back to his room, another scene was unfolding in a lush park near the Chanel Hills community.
———
In a secluded corner of the park, hidden among the tall, swaying trees and vibrant foliage, a figure sat alone on a wooden bench.
The early morning light filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The figure was clad in a simple jogging attire—black leggings that clung to her slender legs and a matching sports jacket that concealed her form. A pair of sunglasses shielded her eyes, and a face mask covered her mouth, leaving only her bright green eyes visible.
It was Sister Rose, her usually wild and untad look masked by the appearance of a casual jogger. In her hands, she held a small bag of birdseed, which she scattered thodically on the ground in front of her, attracting a small flock of birds. They fluttered and pecked at the seeds, oblivious to the malevolence hidden beneath her calm exterior.
As she sat there, seemingly engrossed in feeding the birds, a man in similar jogging attire ran past her. He didn't slow down or acknowledge her, but as he passed, he discreetly dropped a folder on the bench beside her. The exchange was seamless, unnoticed by anyone else in the park.
Sister Rose waited a mont before reaching for the folder. She opened it with casual slowness, her eyes scanning the contents with an eerie calmness. Inside was a profile—Don's profile.
A slow, chilling smile spread beneath her mask as she studied the information. "Before justice can begin," she murmured to herself, her voice barely audible, "an example must be made. The scales of righteousness shall be balanced, and those who oppose the will of nature shall perish."
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