Chapter Text
Third Person’s POV
Enid had moved from the Addams household to Bianca’s house near the country side. Enid had asked why Wednesday wasn’t going with them, why she was moving with Bianca.
Enid asked Bianca all kinds of questions, but Bianca said nothing, allowing Eugene to do the explanation.
Eugene explained, slowly but wasn’t sure if Enid understood anything he said.
“It’s only for a while.”
Enid refused to listen, she simply wanted to stay near Wednesday, she wondered why others couldn’t just understand that.
“Enid. Wednesday asked you to go with me and its only until the school year starts.”
Enid looked at Eugene with sad puppy eyes, and it almost worked had it not been for bianca stepping in.
“Enid, Wednesday gave me permission to care for you as my own. Until you learn how to care for yourself, you will not return to Wednesday.”
“B-b-but…”
“Let’s go.”
Bianca said as she got into the car while she grab Enid’s hand gently and pulled her in as well.
Once Enid was seated in the car, Eugene was quick to close the door and rushed to the driver’s seat. He quickly got in and drove off.
Enid stared at the mansion which she had called home for 2 weeks as it disappeared as the car drove further and further away.
“Enid, Wednesday has given me a lesson schedule for you to follow, you will still have your play time and nap time. However, from now on you must begin your fencing lessons and studies.”
“Fencing?”
“Yes.”
“Is it the pointy sword?”
Eugene snorts at Enid’s choice of words. He saw Bianca’s face through the front mirror.
“You could say that.”
The car was silent for the rest of the ride, and no one spoke a word as Enid had fallen asleep. Bianca stares at Enid until she notices Eugene staring at her.
When they arrive at Bianca’s home, Bianca woke Enid up.
“Enid, wake up, we’ve arrived.”
Enid groggily rubbed her eyes, she looks at the simple home, wondering how come Wednesday’s first-in-command stayed in such a home.
Bianca stepped out first, stretching slightly before circling to open Enid’s door.
“Come on,” she said, her tone calm but firm.
Enid hesitated, clutching the small stuffed wolf she’d brought from Wednesday’s room.
The countryside breeze felt strange—too quiet, too open. No creaking mansion doors, no eerie whispers of Nevermore’s hallways. Just the sound of birds and the rustle of trees.
Bianca led her inside. The house was tidy but modest—wooden floors, cream-colored walls, and sunlight filtering through gauzy curtains. A faint scent of lavender hung in the air.
“This is your room,” Bianca said, opening a door near the end of the hallway.
Enid peeked inside.
It wasn’t big, but it was warm. A small bed with soft blankets, a dresser, a shelf of books, and a window that looked out onto a field of wildflowers.
“Do you like it?”
Enid nodded shyly. “It’s… not spooky.”
Bianca smiled faintly. “That’s the idea.”
She set down Enid’s bag, then crouched to meet her eyes. “Unpack after lunch. We’ll start your schedule tomorrow morning.”
Enid fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “Do you think Wednesday will visit?”
Bianca paused, considering her answer. “If you behave, and if she isn’t busy.”
Enid’s shoulders drooped. “She’s always busy.”
Bianca didn’t respond, but her gaze softened.
Later, during lunch, Enid sat at the table, poking at her food while Eugene talked about bees and hives and the countryside. Bianca listened quietly, correcting him whenever he exaggerated, but Enid barely heard them.
All she could think about was Wednesday’s face—the way she would tilt her head, the sharp glint in her eyes, the rare curve of a smirk.
That night, when Bianca came to check on her, she found Enid curled up on the bed, whispering to her stuffed wolf.
“Goodnight, Luna,” Enid said softly. “Do you think Wednesday misses me?”
Bianca lingered in the doorway, unseen, before turning off the hallway light.
“She does,” she murmured under her breath, and closed the door.
Wednesday’s POV
I worry for Enid.
But I had to distance myself — to think clearly.
There are still members of the Sinclair clan that need to be dealt with. The younger ones… they’re different. They’ve seen what their parents have done, and many have sworn loyalty to me.
Killing them would be wasteful. They can still be reshaped.
I left my office and made my way down to the lower levels. The air grew colder with each step. When I reached the cells, Divina was already waiting by the door.
“Where’s Bianca now?” I asked.
“She, Eugene, and Enid just arrived at her cottage,” Divina replied.
“Good. Keep me updated on Enid’s lessons. And if she’s pregnant, she’s to stop all physical activity immediately.”
“Yes, ma’am. What would you like Yoko and I to do in the meantime?”
I paused in front of the reinforced doors. “The ten-to-twelve-year-olds — how many remain?”
Divina hesitated. “Originally? Around one hundred and fifty.”
“Originally?” I repeated, glancing sideways at her.
She shifted under my stare. “Yoko took about thirty to fifty of them for the blood farm in Jericho.”
“The blood farm?” I murmured, almost amused. “You mean the fake orphanage. I’d almost forgotten that place existed.”
“She took the ones with A and B positive blood types. The ones left are… mutated gene carriers.”
“I see.” I nodded once. “And you separated the prisoners by age, primary and secondary gender, as I instructed?”
“Yes, ma’am. The ones here are the female alphas, age ten.”
“Open the cell.
Divina unlocked the gate. I stepped inside, my presence drawing every pair of frightened eyes toward me. The air smelled of sweat and iron.
“Let us go!” one of them yelled — a small, fierce voice among the silence.
I turned toward her. Finally. Someone with a spine.
“You,” I said, meeting her glare. “What’s your name?”
The girl straightened her shoulders despite trembling. “Reily. Pronounced really.”
“Come, Reily.”
As Divina moved to escort her, I added, “Send the rest to the blood farm in Japan.”
The other girls cried out, but the moment the cell door sealed, a hiss filled the chamber — sleeping gas. They collapsed one by one.
Reily stared at me, horrified. “Why? Why are you doing this to us? We’re just children!”
“So is Enid,” I replied evenly. “Yet she was tortured simply for being an omega.”
Her eyes widened. “Enid… the girl with blonde hair? Sky-blue eyes? Always cleaning?”
“Yes.”
“She’s alive? She survived?”
There was joy in her voice. I tilted my head, curious. “Why does that please you?”
Reily swallowed hard. “The older female alphas — they had a leader named Ayl. She was eighteen. She used to tell us that hurting the weak doesn’t make us alphas. That strength is protecting, not dominating. She tried to free Enid.”
I stilled. “And where is this Ayl now?”
“Last I heard,” Reily whispered, “she was being held in a cave. They were… torturing her.”
I considered this quietly.
“A girl who defied her clan to protect an omega,” I murmured. “Interesting.”
Reily looked uncertain, unsure if she’d said the wrong thing.
“Divina,” I said at last, turning away, “prepare a team. We’re going hunting tonight.”
“For Ayl?” Divina asked carefully.
“For whoever thought torturing her was a wise idea,” I replied coldly.
Bianca’s POV
Morning sunlight slipped through the curtains, painting soft gold lines across the floor. I had been awake long before dawn, coffee cooling beside the papers spread across my desk.
Wednesday’s handwriting stared back at me — neat, exact, controlling.
Breakfast at eight. Fencing at nine. Study until noon. Rest at three.
Precise. Predictable. Unforgiving.
She sighed quietly, glancing toward the small bedroom down the hall. “Let’s see how much of Wednesday’s discipline actually rubbed off on her.”
When I opened the door, the room smelled faintly of lavender and sleep. Enid was bundled under her blanket like a cocoon, only the top of her messy blonde hair visible.
“Enid,” I said softly.
A small whimper answered her. “Go ’way…”
I arched a brow. “It’s morning. You need to get up.”
No response.
I stepped closer, tugging the blanket gently. “You have five minutes before I help you up myself.”
Enid peeked out, eyes wide and red from sleep. “I—I don’t wanna. I’m tired.”
“Then you’ll sleep earlier tonight,” I replied evenly, though my tone softened. “Up, Enid. Breakfast is ready.”
Enid slowly sat up, hugging the stuffed wolf against her chest. “Do I… do I have to eat?”
“Yes,” I said. “Wednesday left instructions.”
At the mention of Wednesday’s name, Enid’s eyes flickered with something — relief. She nodded quickly, afraid to argue.
By the time she reached the kitchen, her hair was still tangled, and her socks didn’t match. Eugene placed a plate of pancakes in front of her with exaggerated care.
“Morning, sunshine,” he said kindly.
Enid mumbled a soft, “Hi,” before picking at the edge of her pancake.
I watched her closely. “Eat, Enid. You’ll need your strength.”
“For what?” Enid whispered.
“For fencing.”
Enid froze. “F-fencing? The sword thing?”
“Yes.”
Her small hands tightened around her fork. “Do I have to? I don’t… I don’t like sharp things.”
My gaze softened, but my tone stayed firm. “You’ll be safe. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
Outside, the air was crisp and smelled of grass. The field stretched wide, sunlight glinting off the two thin foils lying on the ground.
Enid hesitated at the edge of the grass, fingers twisting around the hem of her shirt. “It’s big here,” she whispered. “Too quiet.”
“It’s peaceful,” I corrected gently. “Come. Pick one up.”
Enid reached out uncertainly, grabbing the foil by the wrong end.
“Not like that,” I said, moving closer to guide her small hands into the right grip. “See? It’s lighter than it looks.”
Enid swallowed hard. “It still feels scary.”
“That’s because it’s new,” I said. “Everything new feels scary until you try.”
They trained slowly. Every time the blade clinked, Enid flinched. Every time I corrected her stance, she whispered a small apology. But she tried. Over and over, until her arms shook from the effort.
When they finally stopped, Enid’s hair stuck to her forehead, her breathing quick and uneven.
“Did I do okay?” she asked timidly, as though afraid of the answer.
I crouched down to meet her eyes. “You did better than okay.”
Enid blinked, then smiled — small, uncertain, but real.
“Can I rest now?” she asked softly.
“After you drink some water,” I said, handing her a bottle. “Then we’ll do your lessons.”
“Lessons?” Enid whispered, her shoulders slumping. “More?”
“Just reading today,” I assured. “You’ll like it.”
Later, as Enid sat at the table tracing words with her finger, Eugene leaned in the doorway and murmured, “She’s starting to trust you.”
I didn’t look up. “Trust takes time.”
Her gaze lingered on Enid — the way she hunched over her book, lips moving soundlessly as she read.
“I was right,” I said softly. “She doesn’t need Wednesday constantly by her. She just needed to feel safe on her own.”