Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

The garden was doing that stupidly pretty thing it did right before full dark—lanterns humming to life like lightning bugs on espresso, wind sliding through the night-lilies so the petals ghost-surfaced in slow-mo across the pond, sky fading from purple bruise to Instagram-ready midnight.

Normally Annabelle would've eaten the vibe up and spit back snark, but tonight it just felt…hollow.

Maya was probably inside wrapped around Parker's arm, laughing with Tessa while Bella clung to his other side like a designer scarf that whined if you tried to untie it. Everyone had suddenly become someone's something—best friend, baby sister, soulmate, cosmic sidekick. Annabelle? She'd become the spare seat nobody asked to reserve. Whatever. She toed a pebble off the path, flicked a wrist, and let her magic skate it across the pond like a skipping stone nobody else would ever see.

Tiny flex. Tiny comfort.

Footsteps tapped behind her—measured, calm, obnoxiously confident, like the ground was lucky to get walked on. She didn't have to look to clock the gait. Parker could've snuck in, god-mode and all, but apparently he felt like making an entrance.

"I didn't know you were the type to lurk alone and brood in somebody else's garden," he said, voice easy, like they were sharing chips at a game rather than standing on feelings she'd barricaded for years.

She kept her eyes on the pond. "I didn't know you were the type to ditch your own party, all that vibrance and your harem of gorgeous women, just to sneak up on young girls. Creepy much?"

"Hold up—that's a harsh word to use," he laughed. "I walked. You're the one spacing out. Maybe I'm just irresistible and the little bad wolf girl in you couldn't resist calling me over, huh?"

She shot him a side-eye so sharp it probably left a paper cut on the night air. "Wow. Overestimating yourself much? Pretty sure I'd survive without the Prince of Everything checking my pulse."

He stepped beside her, close enough she could smell the faint cedar-and-moonlight concoction he somehow carried instead of normal cologne. "I just figured you might need to talk. This garden's big on broody vibes and you're vibing hard."

"Nah, but appreciate the uninvited concern, amigo," she said, rolling the last word out in a lazy accent.

A beat. He shrugged. "Maybe you're re-thinking some life choices?"

She snorted. "Hardly. I don't second-guess. I'm not a toddler nor fragile human. Stop projecting."

Parker went quiet, tilted his head as if listening to music only he could hear. "Well, that's so guarded like hiding from the truth. Look, I can see through the façade, Belle. No entourage tonight, no dad to back you up, no Ashford to punt across a dance floor. It's just you…and maybe some stuff you don't feel like carrying solo. I'm giving you a chance. Who knows when you'll get another one from your creator and the guy you used to bully?"

She flinched—just a twitch—but covered it with a smirk. "Damn, you're clingy. I thought the whole bullying thing was water under the bridge after you, I don't know, nuked my entire bloodline? Doesn't the Prince of Existence have better hobbies than holding grudges?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Exactly my point, ma fille. I punished you, punished your family, moved on. Your father was collateral, I know that. But we're cool now. You're family." He nudged a stray petal with his shoe, powering a tiny ripple of light over the flagstones. "Question is—why do you still carry the armor? Why guard up every time you think about stepping forward? You take one step toward me then sprint a hundred back. Why?"

The night crickets filled the silence. She wrapped her arms around herself even though it wasn't cold. For once, the comebacks dried up. "You don't know me," she whispered, the words sliding out without permission. "You have no idea what's in my head."

"Actually, I do." He smiled—gentle, irritatingly kind. "I literally built the blueprint. I want to know the updates."

She bit her lip, turned away so he couldn't read the cracks in her mask, and her magic fluttered out in neon sparks, lighting five lanterns to hide her shaky breathing. 'Damn it. Why was vulnerability so freaking loud?'

Parker closed the gap—still respectful, but close enough she felt the gravity of his presence tug at every soft thing she hid under sarcasm. "Annabelle, I meant it when I called you family. The world's on fire; let's not fan extra flames between us. So, talk to me—or throw a punch—whatever works you have a chance."

For a heartbeat she imagined punching him. Then imagined hugging him. Both felt equally impossible.

She let the breath go. "Fine. I hate that I'm lonely, okay? Everyone's wrapped up in their cosmic love stories, and I'm out here talking to pond fish." She flicked fingers toward the water; tiny koi illusions flickered gold beneath the surface, then winked out. "I cover it with snark because that's easier than asking someone to stay."

Parker's eyes softened. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

She laughed once, bitter and bright. "Don't get smug. I'll still roast anyone who tries pitying me."

"Good. Keep the spice," he said. "But let people in, too. I'm not asking you to be Maya or Evelyn. Be Annabelle. Be the hurricane. We need that."

She squared her shoulders, met his gaze. "You sure you can handle a hurricane?"

"Chica, I can rebuild cities for fun." He winked. "Bring it."

A laugh wobbled out of her—half choke, half relief. She shoved his shoulder, light but real. "Your lines are so cheesy."

"Yeah, but they work," he shot back. He turned, started walking toward the glowing patio. "C'mon. Party's not over. There's tres-leches cake, and I know you've got a sweet tooth you pretend doesn't exist."

She rolled her eyes but followed, barefoot, carrying her heels in one hand. The lanterns overhead brightened as she passed, like the garden approved of her choice. Maybe it did. Maybe the universe wasn't asking her to be perfect—just present.

And for the first time in a ridiculously long time, that felt… doable.

"Follow me," she took the lead instead.