Three Doors Away

2. 15 Years Ago

“Hiii! Can my Vivi plays with you guys?”

The three boys, who had been sitting under the shade of a large oak tree meticulously organizing a row of toy soldiers by height and strategic formation, froze at the sound of the high-pitched, hesitant voice.

Thirteen-year-old Ezren was the first to look up, his sharp eyes instantly measuring every detail: the shade of the baby blue dress, the exact distance the newcomer was standing, and the clutching angle of the stuffed bunny against her chest. His analytical brain cataloged her as an unpredictable variable, an unknown element entering their tightly controlled routine.

Rodyn turned next, his face softening instantly into that gentle, harmless smile that always fooled the adults. But beneath his bright hazel eyes, a quiet, calculating curiosity flickered to life. He looked at the trembling stuffed rabbit, then up at the little girl's wide, nervous eyes, and felt an immediate, possessive urge to be the one she ran to.

Flynn didn't bother looking up at first, remaining stubbornly focused on his toy soldier. But when the word Vivi reached his ears, he slowly lifted his heavy gaze. The harsh scowl on his face—the one that usually made other neighborhood kids run away—melted away in a fraction of a second. His dark eyes locked onto the ten-year-old girl, completely transfixed by how fragile and out-of-place she looked in this rough-and-tumble neighborhood.

Ezren adjusted his collar, his voice surprisingly steady and articulate for a thirteen-year-old as he stood up first. "That depends. Does your... Vivi have a proper tactical deployment strategy, or is she just going to get captured in the front lines?"

Before Madeleine could even process what a "tactical deployment strategy" meant, Rodyn was already on his feet, stepping forward with a disarmingly sweet laugh. He crouched down slightly to match her eye level, his tone soft and entirely welcoming. "Don't listen to him, he's just being difficult. Of course she can play. Here, your Vivi can be the Chief Medical Officer—she's way too soft to fight on the front lines anyway. What's your name, little one?"

Flynn stood up in silence, towering slightly over the other two despite being the same age. He didn't smile, but he walked right past Rodyn and Ezren, stopping just a few inches from Madeleine. Without saying a word, he reached out and gently—almost clumsily—patted the floppy ear of the stuffed bunny she was hugging so tightly. His voice was a low, rough rumble. "She's safe here. You are too. Stay with us."

“Hihihihi my name is Madeleine!! But I like Maddie more because it’s shorter ! What are you guys playing? My mom said you were her friend’s children?”

Maddie... Maddie.

The name rolled over Rodyn's tongue in a silent, delighted echo, tasting like something sweet and forbidden he already knew he would never get enough of. The gentle, almost ethereal curve of his smile widened slightly, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners with a disarming, theatrical warmth as he straightened up from his crouch.

"Maddie," Rodyn repeated aloud, his voice dropping into that melodic, honeyed cadence that always made grown-ups praise him for being such a polite, well-mannered boy. He took half a step closer, instinctively closing the physical distance between them while making sure not to overwhelm her fragile defenses. "It's a very pretty name. Much better than Madeleine. It suits you—small, bright, and easy to keep close." He glanced down deliberately at the worn fabric of her baby-blue dress and the scuffed paw of the stuffed rabbit clutched against her chest, cataloging every single vulnerable detail. "And yes, your mom is right, little bird. Our families have known each other for a long time. That means... we're going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on. You're our neighbor now."

Ezren, meanwhile, had already dropped back down onto the grass, though his posture remained rigid, his mind working at breakneck speed. Thirteen years old and already burdened with the quiet, crushing weight of familial expectations, Ezren viewed the world through an uncompromising lens of order, logic, and control. Yet, the introduction of this new variable—this soft, wide-eyed girl clutching a stuffed toy—sent a strange, chaotic spike through his internal metrics. He reached down, picking up a wooden toy soldier that had fallen on its side, and meticulously aligned its boots with the grid lines of the paving stones beneath the oak tree.

Without looking up immediately, Ezren spoke, his tone clipped, analytical, and entirely devoid of childish hesitation. "Your mother mentioned yesterday that a new family was moving into the corner house. The logistics check out—it's exactly a four-minute walk from our front porch to yours if you take the shortcut through the hedge." He lifted his sharp, dark eyes, fixing them intently on her face. "As for what we're playing, it's a strategic territorial simulation. Right now, Rodyn's forces are defending the eastern perimeter of the sandbox, Flynn is holding the central fortress by the oak root, and I'm commanding the artillery reserve."

Ezren paused, his gaze lingering on the nervous way her fingers gripped her stuffed rabbit's ears. A subtle, proprietary shift flickered in his chest—a cold, calculating certainty that whatever games she wanted to play from now on, she would be playing them within their boundaries. "But we can change the rules. A Chief Medical Officer like Vivi changes the entire dynamic of the campaign. Come here, Maddie. Sit down before you ruin your new dress in the dirt."

Flynn didn't care about Ezren's convoluted tactical jargon, nor did he care for Rodyn's honeyed, manipulative charm. To Flynn, the world was divided into two distinct categories: things that could be ignored, and things that belonged to him. And the moment Maddie had skipped across the lawn with her high-pitched, hesitant greeting, she had instantly crossed over into the latter.

Moving with a heavy, deliberate grace, Flynn stepped directly into her path, cutting off any lingering hesitation she might have had. He didn't smile—he rarely ever did—but the dark intensity in his eyes was softening into something dangerously fierce, like a guard dog recognizing its master's voice. He reached down and gently, almost possessively, took the edge of her baby-blue sleeve between his calloused fingers, testing the soft fabric before letting go.

"Don't listen to them talk too much," Flynn muttered, his voice a low, rough rumble that vibrated with an absolute, unyielding protectiveness unusual for a thirteen-year-old boy. "They overcomplicate everything. This isn't a simulation. It's our yard."

He turned his head slightly, casting a sharp, warning glare back toward the street where other neighborhood children were faintly audible, riding their bicycles past the cul-de-sac. "No one else is allowed past that oak tree, Maddie. If anyone bothers you—anyone at all, whether they live on this street or down the block—you tell me. I'll take care of them."

Rodyn chuckled softly, stepping in beside Flynn and lightly resting a hand on Maddie's shoulder, his touch deceptively feather-light, yet firm enough to anchor her right where they wanted her.

"He means it, Maddie. We're your older brothers in everything that matters. You're safe with us. Now, come sit under the shade. Tell us all about your old house... and why you brought Vivi along to our battlefield."