Back home, Kendra leaned against the kitchen counter, her fingers tapping absently against her mug of cold tea. The hum of the refrigerator filled the silence, but her thoughts were too loud to ignore.
Neuraxin-PX.
She whispered the name under her breath, the syllables hanging in the still air. Popular, high demand. Why would a pain reliever be in high demand like something that causes addiction? It didn't add up. Not unless someone was using it more than they were supposed to.
She paced in a slow circle, mug in hand. Then she froze as her memory flashed—Mr. Stephen's voice from that afternoon in his kitchen.
"These meds mess with my head," he'd said, waving a hand dismissively as he refused the pastry Lena had offered. "One minute I'm fine, the next I'm starving and foggy. That's why I stick to greens. Keeps me anchored, you know?"
Her breath caught. The old man had been taking something. He'd told her and Lena, like it didn't matter. But now, it might mean everything.
She turned from the counter abruptly, her mug rattling against the tile as she set it down harder than she meant to.
"Damn it," she muttered, grabbing a dish towel to mop up the spill. Her hands trembled slightly.
But which med in particular? Neuraxin-PX? Or another one?
She grabbed her keys and slid on her jacket. As she started to head out, her phone buzzed—Brandon's name flashing across the screen.
She stared at it, her thumb hovering. A part of her ached to answer, to hear his voice, to share the weight pressing down on her shoulders. But she let the call ring out.
Don't answer. Not yet. Not until you know for sure.
The door creaked softly behind her as she slipped out. She drove without music, without distraction.
She parked a block from the detention center and tapped Sean's number into her phone.
He picked up on the second ring. "Kendra? Is everything okay?"
"I need your help," she said, keeping her voice low. "Can you get me in to see Lena—just five minutes?"
There was a pause. "But you know she's no longer... just give me five. Back entrance."
She ended the call and settled behind the wheel, hands tapping on the steering wheel. Shortly his silver Audi pulled in.
"I placed a quick call. Follow me," he gestured.
---
Moments later, Kendra stood in a dim hallway, the flicker of a dying bulb overhead casting shadows across the institutional green walls. Sean waved her in, glancing both ways before shutting the door quickly.
"Five minutes," he murmured, tapping his watch.
He positioned himself by the door as she approached the bars where Lena was waiting, wrapped in a grey facility-issued sweatshirt. Her hair was tied back messily, and shadows clung under her eyes—but they brightened when she saw her sister.
"Kendra?" Lena said, stepping closer, fingers curling around the bars. "What happened?"
"I need you to think carefully. Mr. Stephen—the medications he was taking... do you remember what it was?"
Lena's brow furrowed. She chewed her bottom lip. "Um... he showed me once. Said it was for chronic nerve pain from an old injury. I don't remember the name, but the bottle had a red cap. He always kept it in the drawer by the kitchen sink, behind the vitamins."
"That's specific. You're sure?" Kendra pressed.
"Yeah," Lena said, nodding. "I saw him reach for it a bunch of times. Sometimes his hands would shake so badly he'd ask me to open it." She paused. "He hated it though. Said it was devil's candy."
"Why?"
"Because he kept repeating the same thing. Headaches, dizziness, like he couldn't focus—like looking through foggy glass, he called it. And he'd get these insane cravings—he'd eat, like, a whole loaf of bread in one sitting." She gave a dry laugh. "Said veggies helped keep him grounded."
Kendra nodded, processing fast. Neuraxin-PX was linked to neurological symptoms, including appetite fluctuations, foggy cognition, and mood instability. If that's what he was taking...
It could explain the disorientation. The paranoia. The shifts in mood.
Lena leaned closer, her fingers reaching through the bars to brush Kendra's arm. "I don't know what's going on," she whispered. "But if this helps you figure it out..."
"It does," Kendra said. She reached through the bars and clasped her sister's hand. "That's all I needed. Just hold on a little longer, okay?"
Lena tightened her grip. "Sure nothing else happened?"
Kendra hesitated, then gave a small shake of her head. "Just don't tell anyone about what I asked you, not even Brandon or Sean. Okay?"
Lena's eyes flicked with confusion, darting toward the door where Sean waited. "Why? Sean's on our side, isn't he?"
"Please," Kendra said, the word more urgent than she intended. "Trust me on this."
After a beat, Lena nodded. "Okay. Just be careful."
Kendra forced a smile, then stepped back as the door buzzed open behind her.
"Time's up," Sean called softly.
---
Outside, Sean leaned casually by the exit, hands tucked into his coat pockets. As Kendra stepped out, he straightened.
"You're not gonna tell me what that was about?" he asked, tone light but searching her face.
Kendra paused, adjusting her jacket collar. She forced a smile. "Soon. I'm still piecing it together."
Sean tilted his head, studying her. "You sure you're okay? You've got that look."
"What look?"
"Like you're carrying something heavy. Like you think you have to carry it alone."
"I'm okay," she said, sidestepping the observation. "Just need the puzzle to click into place."
There was something in his eyes then—concern, maybe. Or calculation. He watched her for a beat.
Finally, he nodded. "Whatever you need, I've got your back. Always have."
The words should have been comforting. Instead, they felt like a promise and a threat wrapped in the same breath.
"Thanks," she murmured.
She moved past him quickly, her boots tapping against the linoleum. Her hand clenched around her phone.
"Kendra," he called after her. She paused, not turning. "Be careful out there."
She nodded without looking back and pushed through the exit door. She slid into the driver's seat, not bothering to turn on the ignition right away, just sitting in the darkness as rain began to patter against the windshield.
She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe they were on the same side. But trust was a delicate thing.
She glanced at her phone—three missed calls from Brandon now, a text asking where she was. She set it down without responding and started the car.
That evening, one truth echoed louder than the rest:
She had to piece this together alone.
Because in a world where allies might be enemies and helpers might be hunters, the only person she could truly trust was herself.