I did not sleep very often after I had run out into the night in search of Ethan. My feet pounded pavement and my chest was ablaze, but every time I made a corner, he was just beyond me. He was always one step in front and always disappearing into darkness.

By the time I stumbled home at dawn, his shoes were beside the door like nothing ever happened. He was in bed snoring like a child and I just stared at him. My brother. My responsibility. My headache. He was just forever everything.

"Ethan," I whispered, pushing the hair from his forehead. "Why are you doing this to me?"

But he didn't respond, never did, and I left him alone. I simply took the bedsheet and put it properly on him before closing the door after me and sighed.

The storm returned by evening. It was neither in the atmosphere nor it was in Ethan's eyes.

He was on the couch, scrolling through his phone with that cocky grin that told me trouble was already written in his plans.

"Where were you going tonight?" I asked bluntly, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Nowhere." He answered, still surfing using his mobile.

"Don't lie to me," I said, looking at him.

But he grinned. "You always assume that l'm lying."

"And that's because you always are."

Then finally he looked at me and his eyes flashed. "You don't get it, Bella. I'm not some little kid anymore, I'm sixteen for crying out loud. So I can defend myself."

I sat and my tone was crisp. "Take care of yourself, you say? Last night you vanished and frightened me half to death. I thought–" I stopped and covered my mouth with my hand. "I thought something was wrong with you."

Then he changed restlessly but did not look away. "Nothing happened."

"Not yet."

He signed. "Stop treating me like. like I'm a baby."

"You are a baby, Ethan. You are always a baby if you ever keep living with me. You are only sixteen."

He jumped up, grasping at his jacket. "I'm not sticking in this apartment and rotting. You want to live small? Good, but I want more? Bella, I want more?"

"More?" I sat up with him. "What are you talking about, more, Ethan?"

He paused and smiled again. "You'll see."

That was my warning, but I was too blind to take it. I should have, I really wished I should.

But it was too late before I realized it. Too far gone for me ever to have acknowledged the warning.

Ethan wasn't loitering around some back-alley diner or messing around with kids at the playground. But yes, his new friends had bigger plans. More perilous ones, than what I could ever imagine.

And somehow, they'd set their eyes on the biggest event of the season– The Moretti Global Charity Gala.

I did not know about it until later. All I did know was that, scrubbing brushes at my gallery workshop that evening, something heavy was settled within my chest. A feeling, like a bad dream from which I could not wake.

Because when I did return home, the apartment was vacant once more. His cell was ringing on the counter with flashing texts. I shouldn't have glanced at it, but I did.

"Let's meet at the back gate of the gala tonight, don't chicken out."

When I read this text, my stomach fell. "Ethan," I whispered quietly into the silence, but he wasn't home.

So, I put on my dress and attended the gala.

In the flashy corridors of the Moretti Global Gala, Ethan was already hyperventilating. He was wearing a stolen waiter coat, the sleeves were too short on his frame, and the collar was choking him. His other two new friends, children I had only seen before, whispered and snickered like it was humorous.

"Relax," one of them said. "Nobody is observing. Just act like usual."

"They're all staring at me," Ethan growled, darting nervous eyes at the sea of silk dresses and button-down suits.

The chandeliers dripped light like diamonds. Tables were stacked high with food that he couldn't pronounce. And at the far end of the room was a stage with priceless artwork stacked up beside it, being protected but otherwise gleaming under spotlights.

Then one of the boys came closer. "You see that statue, that one of glass?" He said pointing at it.

Ethan swallowed. "Yeah

"That's tonight's dare."

Ethan exclaimed. "What are you talking about?"

"You wanted to prove yourself, didn't you? All you gotta do is switch the champagne tray for the one near the statue. Knock–accidentally, you know? Everyone will laugh. Nobody gets hurt, easily."

Ethan froze. His hands trembled but pride is a poison. And I knew my brother and all that he ever desired was to fit in. He wanted to be seen.

Then he nodded. "Fine."

Then I snuck into the facility through the service doors, my heart racing. I didn't have a ticket, no business being there, but I didn't bother. My brother was within those doors, and I was going to haul him out if it was the last thing I did before he did something stupid.

The corridor was redolent with fragrance and money. I kept near the walls while waiters zipped past with their trays of sparkling

wine. Wherever my eyes wandered, seeking out that familiar head of dark hair.

Then I saw him. He was on the other side of the hallway wearing that stupid jacket and carrying a tray like it was about to detonate in his hands. My baby brother was trying out for membership in a planet that would consume him.

"Ethan," said I calmly. Then I began walking towards him.

Then Ethan drew a deep breath. His friends nodded at him from the darkness. He edged forward toward the statue, its crystal surface glinting with light. The crowds chuckled and talked and their glasses clinked, not knowing a shaking-hand boy was about to mess everything up.

He then reached the table, and the champagne tower glimmered. His fingers twitched. One push, one slip.

Do it, they had said. Do it. His friends repeated. He then closed his eyes and put courage in his veins.

Then suddenly--

The tray slipped from his hands, and the glasses shattered. The crystal figurine dropped. It was thunder and glass shattering like ice on rock. Gasps echoed along the corridor.

I screamed. "Ethan

Heads turned, and guards rushed forward. A crowd gathered, horror and outrage twisting their faces.

Ethan stood frozen, shards of glass glittering at his feet, his face was white as chalk.

Then, amidst the turmoil, I could sense it—the weight of eyes other than those of the public.

They were cold, sharp, and were watching me. But then, I turned across the hall, high above the mess, and a man in a black suit stared down at me. His presence was like fire and ice all at once. The world seemed to bend around him, as though even the chaos dared not touch him. He was the kind of man that I always envisioned. He was Alex Moretti.