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ao719 · 2 months

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Vancross

Vancross - Rescue You (Chapter 23)

Most of the characters belong to Pixelberry.

Summary: A group of friends embark on their final year at Vancross Institute with the hopes of making it their best year yet. When a new face with a complicated family plagued by secrets and rumors arrives on campus, new friendships are formed, a new relationship blossoms, and threatening challenges arise.

Title inspiration: Rescue - Lauren Daigle

Main Pairing: Liam x F!OC

A/N: Multiple crossover series. There will be random sprinkles of canon throughout this story, but for the most part, it’s pretty much out the window. Not beta’d. Please excuse any errors.

Rating: M • Warnings: This series will contain nsfw material, language, some alcohol and drug use, and is not suitable for minors. If you read, you acknowledge you are 18+

Catch up here

“Are we there yet?” Trystan cut his eyes up to the rearview mirror and stared at Blaine. “I’m just kidding. Everyone is just so fucking quiet and it’s starting to make me a little uneasy.”

“Nerves are good. Gets the adrenaline going,” Leo quipped.

They’d been driving nearly an hour with Amalas checking in every 15 minutes since they crossed over the Drakovian border to ensure their earpieces were still working. Thankfully, they hadn’t had any issues so far.

“We’ve got to be close,” Simon said.

Trystan had been quiet the entire ride, trying to get himself into the zone; he’d have to become a slightly different person once he entered the lion’s den and he needed to get himself into that mindset. But as the marker Everett placed to signal his upcoming turn came into view, he figured it was time. “We’re close …”

Trystan slowed the SUV, turned onto a dirt road, and shut off the lights, leaving the path ahead visible only by the silver moonlight from above as they moved at what felt like a snail’s pace. The path was lined by a thick forest of trees on both sides, giving nothing away as to what lay beyond them.

“I’m just gonna say it … this feels very fucking ominous,” Blaine whispered.

After several long moments, lights flickered from a vehicle parked up ahead, and the SUV rolled to a stop just as Amalas’ voice crackled in their ears.

“I see that you’ve arrived. Everything clear?”

“Good here,” Trystan confirmed, and the other three repeated his words.

Trystan and Leo exited the vehicle first, and Blaine and Simon gave one another a look before they followed suit. As they approached the other vehicle, they watched as a familiar face came into view.

Jonas, Croía’s former guard, bowed to Trystan. “It’s good to see you, sir. If only it was under better circumstances.”

“Agreed,” Trystan said. “Thank you for your willingness to help.”

“Of course.”

“Is everything set on your end?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Trystan turned to look at the other three. “Don’t forget to stay alert and don’t draw attention to yourselves. Wait it out until the time comes, and once each of you has your spin as we’ve planned, you slip out through the side exit of the ballroom. Everett will be waiting to lead you to the tunnel … and I’ll meet you back here. Try not to get caught or, worse, die.” Blaine’s and Simon’s brows rose and Leo snorted. “Kidding … mostly.” He looked at each of them, not needing to say what he was thinking; the gratitude in his eyes at what they were risking for his sister said more than enough. “See you soon.”

They all shook his hand before the three of them slid into the other vehicle with Jonas, who was getting them through the gates with the help of Everett.

As they drove off back down the path, Trystan turned and walked in the opposite direction before veering off onto a smaller path in the woods. He hadn’t been down there since he was a teenager when he would hide from his lessons or escape the constant watchful eyes of his parents. It was clear no one else had been down that way in quite some time, evident by the brush covering the path.

After walking roughly a mile, Trystan came to the end of the trail where the entrance to the tunnel was located. It had been closed off over a decade ago, but he knew there was a way to open it, and instructed Everett on how to do so. He spotted the thick piece of wood that was keeping the heavy door wedged open just enough, and he smiled triumphantly when he slipped through.

“You made it.”

“Did you doubt me?” Trystan asked as he shook Everett’s hand.

“Not at all,” Everett smiled as they started walking down the dark passageway with his flashlight guiding them. “Guests started to arrive roughly 15 minutes ago.”

“And you’re going to the gate?”

“Yes. Jonas just sent me a message, so I’m headed there now.”

“Perfect.” Trystan glanced over at him. “How’s Croía?”

“I don’t know,” Everett shook his head. “I haven’t seen her today. She’s been with your mother since this morning.”

Trystan’s jaw tensed, but he nodded. When they rounded the first corner, Trystan stopped Everett. “Once you get back inside, there’s something I need you to do …”

****

Jonas waited in the car line going through the front gates of the palace where a guard was doing clarification checks of the guest list.

“A guard is circling the vehicles while the other does the clarification checks,” Jonas said quietly. “If they tap on your window, roll it down and act bored and annoyed by their presence.”

Blaine, Leo, and Simon nodded their agreement from the backseat as they fixed their masks into place; each mask was designed to conceal most of their face, giving off phantom of the opera vibes.

When the first of the three vehicles ahead of them finally pulled through the gate, Jonas drummed his fingers anxiously against the steering wheel; Everett had yet to come and replace the one guard checking the guest list. After a few moments, the next car pulled through the gate, leaving one more ahead of them.

“Come on,” Jonas mumbled under his breath. He watched as the other guard slowly circled the vehicle in front of them and felt the sweat beading his brow as they got closer to finishing. The guard circling the vehicle tapped the back of it, signaling them to go ahead. “Shit.”

Just as the car ahead started to roll through the gate, Everett appeared, and Jonas released a breath of relief as he slowly began pulling forward. He watched Everett say something to the guard, who then handed him the tablet with the lists before hurrying toward the palace as he rolled to a stop in front of him.

“IDs,” Everett said curtly, falling into character.

As Jonas spoke with Everett, Leo, Blaine, and Simon watched as the other guard slowly circled their vehicle; their eyes tracked his every movement until he stopped in front of Leo’s door and tapped a knuckle against the window.

Leo’s jaw tensed as he rolled it down. “What?” he snapped.

The guard peered inside. “Just checking the vehicle, sir.”

“Make it quick,” Leo spat in feigned annoyance. “I don’t intend on spending my evening sitting in the back of my damn car.” The man met his gaze, but unlike the guards he was used to dealing with back home, this one arched a brow almost in a challenge. It didn’t deter him, however. “Well, are your eyes fucking working? Or do I need to tell Queen Viktoria that we were late due to being held up at the gate by her incompetent guard?”

The man stared at him for another heartbeat before offering a curt nod. “Enjoy your evening, sirs.”

Leo rolled his eyes before rolling up his window. When Jonas pulled through the gate, Simon let out a snort. “Dude …”

“I just know that guy has a list of nobles he wants to kill and Lord Sterling DuPont was just added to it,” Blaine chuckled.

Leo grinned. “Gotta give ol’ Sterling a reputation.”

“Everyone still connected?” Amalas’ voice crackled in their ears.

“Good here,” Blaine answered. “We just got through the gate.”

“Good on my end,” Trystan’s voice came through. “But I’m probably going to lose you here in a second. I’ll let you know when I’m back on.”

“What do you mean?” Blaine questioned. “What if you need—”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Just get inside.”

“That’s fucking great,” Leo grumbled. “We’re not even inside and he’s already going rogue.”

“I can still hear you, asshole,” Trystan said.

“I’ve got eyes on him for now,” Amalas interjected, reminding them she was watching the security feed. “If he needs assistance, I’ll let you know. You three just worry about what you need to do.”

Leo sighed just as the SUV came to a stop outside the front entrance. “I’ll see you back where we met up,” Jonas said quietly. “Good luck.” Blaine patted his shoulder right before a staff member opened the door.

Leo slid out followed by Blaine and Simon, and each offered a curt nod as they buttoned their suit jackets before making their way up the stairs. As they stepped through the front entrance, while some guests were led straight into the ballroom, they were instructed to take their place in a line.

They glanced around the foyer, dimly lit by the two gothic-style chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. In front and behind them in the line stood other masked guests … the men who would be vying for Croia’s hand that evening.

And suddenly, the full impact of what that evening was about hit Blaine like a ton of bricks. Croía was, in a nutshell, supposed to be auctioned off to one of these men … like some prized fucking animal.

It made his throat burn with bile.

“Remember, it’s not the Princess you need to impress this evening,” one man in front of him said quietly to another beside him, but not quietly enough for Blaine not to overhear. “It’s Queen Viktoria who will be choosing. And considering the Crown Matrimonial is in play—”

“I’m aware, Father,” the other man interrupted. “I’ll have no problem showing the Princess exactly where her place is and will be if I’m the one chosen.”

Blaine’s hands balled into fists at his sides as his jaw tensed. Confirmation of these men being aware of the power being offered to them had just been given. They had no intention of showing Croía any sort of respect that evening. Why? Because they weren’t trying to gain her favor but Viktoria’s.

Tonight, they needed and were expected to show Viktoria that they’d be both willing and able to keep Croía in line.

Anger flared in Blaine’s chest at the thought of any of these assholes crossing any sort of line with his friend. And more bile rose in his throat at the idea of Liam having to hear about it.

“Blaine?” Simon whispered.

Blaine snapped from his daze and looked at Simon and Leo; both their eyes flickered down to his balled-up fists. He cleared his throat and flexed his hands open. “I’m fine.”

After several long moments, they finally stepped over the threshold into the ballroom, and they all immediately searched for Croía as the line slowly moved. They finally saw her standing at the front of the dais, dressed in a black and gold gown and a matching gold mask.

Behind her were six figures seated on the dais.

The two in the center were the unmasked King and Queen, dressed in black regalia; two chairs sat on either side of them, each one occupied by a figure dressed in a hooded black garb, and their identities were concealed entirely by full-face masks, each of a different design.

“That’s not unsettling at all,” Simon quipped.

As Simon, Blaine, and Leo grew closer to the dais, they adjusted their masks, ensuring they stayed in place. Leo’s eyes were locked in a side-long stare on the King and Queen while Blaine’s remained on Croía. Some suitors simply bowed without a word and walked away. Others, however, like the asshole in front of them that Blaine overheard in the foyer, seemed to deem it necessary to assert their dominance.

“Your Highness,” the man bowed when he made it in front of her.

Blaine watched intently. Croía didn’t move, even as the man took her hand in his without her permission. He brushed his lips against her knuckles before lifting his head, and Blaine saw the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smirk as his grip on her hand tightened. “After tonight, you’ll be the one bowing, and hopefully to me.”

A low growl left Blaine’s throat, and Leo inconspicuously nudged him at hearing it. “Chill.”

“He just—”

“I know.” Leo’s jaw tensed. He’d heard it, too. And he’d give anything at that moment to beat the living audacity out of the guy, but they had to stay focused.

It was finally their turn.

Simon stepped up to Croía first, silently bowing at the waist before stepping away; he had been worried his voice might give him away should he say anything.

Leo followed behind him. “Your Highness,” he bowed and quickly stepped away.

When Blaine stepped up in front of Croía, his eyes found hers, but she didn’t meet his gaze; she was looking through him, staring straight ahead instead as if in a trance. He quickly scanned over her for any sign of injury or distress, but nothing stood out other than her thin, statuesque posture. When his eyes fell on her face again, his jaw ticked when he saw a lone tear trickle down her cheek from beneath her gilded mask. We’re here, Croía. “Your Highness,” he said quietly to mask his voice as he bowed before stepping away.

****

Lydea closed an open stateroom door as she made her way down the hall; she was doing one last cursory check of the upper levels. When she rounded the corner, she stopped short and furrowed her brow. “What are you doing?” she called out.

Everett turned and met her gaze, offering a bow as she approached him. “Just doing a cursory check of the corridors, ma’am.”

“I’m doing the cursory checks. Your post is downstairs in the ballroom.”

“I just thought — with all the guests this evening, I mean—”

“I’ve got it handled. Now get your ass downstairs.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Everett gave another stiff bow before hurrying for the stairs. He waited a moment before glancing over his shoulder, seeing her still watching him; he quickly looked away. Once at the stairs, he inconspicuously slid his eyes in her direction once more, watching her disappear down the corridor he’d come from when she spotted him … and he smirked.

She’d done exactly what Trystan said she would.

Lydea let her gaze flicker around as she walked the length of the corridor; the guards were all stationed downstairs, either in the ballroom or on the grounds around the palace. Not in the third-floor corridor. And certainly not the one that led to the private suites of the Thorne progeny.

Once at the end of the hall, Lydea turned and started checking the doors to the rooms.

Vasili’s and Sebastyan’s doors were locked as they usually were. Marguerite’s door was locked, the same as it had been since her last visit more than a year ago.

In the next hall, Emika’s and Kaspar’s doors were locked. Astrid’s door was locked. Her own door was locked. She bypassed what was once Trystan’s room without a second thought and peered around the corner at the lone door at the end of the small hallway.

Croía’s room.

By itself.

Away from the others.

Lydea approached it and jiggled the knob. It, too, was locked. She sighed as she turned back and started to make her way back to the ballroom, but she halted a step after passing what was once her eldest brother’s room. Her brow furrowed as she turned back around, confirming what she thought she saw.

The door was cracked open.

With one hand on the hilt of her dagger, Lydea pushed open the door with her free hand and stepped inside; she glanced around, taking it in for the first time in eight years. She froze again and tilted her head to the side when her eyes fell on the oil painting on the far back wall; the portion of the wall it was hanging on was ajar and she could feel the draft coming from the stone passageway … the passageway that only she and her siblings had access to through each of their suites.

Lydea slowly moved toward the opening; Kaspar and Emika were the only ones she knew who still used the passageway from time to time, and it was entirely possible they entered Trystan’s old room for whatever reason their twisted minds felt necessary. Hell, they could be having weekly slumber parties in there and she wouldn’t know or even care for that matter. Being that Kaspar was told not to be near the palace that night and Emika was charged with keeping him away, however, she was curious if her two younger siblings had managed to sneak in.

Stepping through the opening in the wall, Lydea made her way into the passageway; she stopped once inside the darkened stone hallway, listening for the echo of voices or footsteps, but heard nothing. She stopped again at the end of the stone hall, staring at the wooden door that led to the massive chamber beyond it.

It was open.

“What the hell are those two up to now?” Lydea whispered to herself as she started for the door. She stepped inside, expecting to find her two younger siblings lounging in the secret sanctuary they used as children, but her brows rose at who was there instead.

Leaning against a column at the edge of the room, Trystan nonchalantly — and expertly — twirled a dagger in his hands. “Hello, Lyddles,” he smirked. “Long time no see.”

“Well, this is certainly a surprise.” Lydea feigned indifference while her mind raced with how the hell he’d managed to make it inside completely undetected. “I can say that you’re the last person I expected to find here.”

“You know how much I love surprises,” Trystan grinned. “You’re looking rather official in your uniform.” He tilted his head in thought. “It suits you.”

“Cut the small talk,” Lydea said as she stopped a few feet away from him. “How did you get in here? And considering you’re not supposed to step foot inside the palace, let alone the country unless summoned by the King or Queen — which you weren’t — what are you doing here?”

“To answer your first question, I have my ways. As for your second question … I think you already know the answer to that.”

Lydea stared at him. “Croía …”

“Still sharp as a whip, aren’t you?” Trystan grinned.

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not going to get very far in your task, I’m afraid.”

“You almost sound convincing.” Trystan offered a menacing smile as he skillfully flipped the dagger in his hand. “Almost.”

“The guards will be up here in a moment,” Lydea said, “and unfortunately, I’ll have to take you into custody.”

A low, sardonic chuckle escaped Trystan. “Lyddles, give your big brother a little more credit than that. You haven’t alerted your guards. And even if you tried with that silent trigger on your fancy little radio — yes, I know about it — this chamber, if I recall correctly, doesn’t emit signals for shit because we’re too deep inside the palace and these concrete walls are too damn thick. That’s why Astrid stopped coming in here because she couldn’t get a signal on her phone.” He saw the flicker of irritation in her eyes from him remembering those details, and he grinned triumphantly. “Now … we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours.”

“No, dear brother, the choice is yours. I’m either taking you with me freely or against your will.”

Lydea kept her voice steady and expression indifferent despite knowing this was a battle she would more than likely lose. This was Trystan. She’d never admit it out loud, but her big brother could outsmart her both intellectually and physically.

“Your confidence is inspiring. Truly,” Trystan teased with a smirk. “But I’m going to call your bluff.”

“Trystan, you don’t want to do that.”

All facetiousness left Trystan’s face and his glare on his sister turned sinister as he took a threatening step forward. “Let me put it to you this way … I’m not leaving here without Croía. I’ll burn this palace to the fucking ground if that’s what it takes. And you know I’m crazy enough and feeling pissed off enough to do just that. So we have a couple of options here. I’m either going to take you out and continue on my way … or I’ll give you a chance to do the right thing and you can help me.”

“The right thing is for Croía to—”

“Don’t,” Trystan spat. “You know nothing about her and what the right thing for her is. This … she is not built for this. And I don’t mean the crown, I mean this place. You and I both know that.” The brief flicker of guilt in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. “She’s not me or you. She is good, Lydea. Let her stay that way.”

“Trystan, my duty is—”

“I don’t give a fuck about your duty,” Trystan took another step forward. “You know this isn’t right. She’ll never be the person they’re trying to mold her into no matter how hard they try. This is going to do nothing but break her. But you’d rather stand there and watch her crumble than give her a fucking chance at a life away from here because of your high and mighty duty?” He paused, tilting his head. “Or is it because you’re afraid?”

“I am not afraid,” Lydea ground out through gritted teeth.

“Huh,” Trystan hummed. “Could have fooled me. Because the way I see it, you’re acting like a fucking coward because you’re afraid of what mommy dearest will say. You never could stand to be a disappointment, even if it was in the devil’s eyes.” A breath escaped Lydea as she held her brother’s gaze. “I’ve never asked you for anything. Even when my entire reputation was on the line, even when the lies started to spread like wildfire and I knew you were probably the one person who could prove my innocence if I begged you to really look into it … I never asked you for a damn thing. I’m asking you now. Not for me but for her.” His voice dropped to a dangerously threatening tone. “And I’m only going to ask once.”

Lydea’s jaw tensed, and Trystan braced himself for a fight that would be grueling but that he knew he would win. She held his gaze for a few more heartbeats before closing her eyes and releasing a sharp breath. “What do you need?”

Trystan straightened. “You better not be toying with me, Lydea. I’m in no fucking mood for games.”

“I’m not toying with you,” Lydea chided. “Croía asked me to help her … to get her out … and I wanted to, but …”

“Well, here’s your chance to make it up to her,” Trystan interrupted.

“Again … what do you need?”

“I’m not telling you what I’m doing,” Trystan said pointedly. “Because one, I don’t know if I can truly trust you. No offense.”

Lydea crossed her arms but shrugged. “None taken.” She couldn’t blame him there.

“And two, the less you know, the better. I’m not asking you to directly insert yourself,” Trystan explained. “I only need you to help create a diversion …”

****

Long after the guests had made their way through the receiving line, Croía remained standing at the front of the dais. She wasn’t allowed to sit. She was the spectacle of the evening, the trophy for those not vying for her hand but for the crown her mother had dangled in front of them.

The “suitors” would come and stand in front of her; they’d ogle her and talk about her and make comments as though she wasn’t right there and could hear their every word. She felt like a prize up for grabs.

She felt used.

She felt disgusting.

In the last few days leading up to that night, Croía had given up; that sliver of hope she’d held onto to somehow find a way out had completely vanished after Lydea declined to help her. She hadn’t necessarily accepted the fate being forced on her that evening, but she had come to accept that there was nothing short of death itself that was going to get her out of it. And up until that night, she’d been in a daze of sorts. The days had been a blur. She’d been numb.

Now, she was scared.

Croía felt her throat burn and her eyes sting when two of the “suitors” finally turned away from her and headed back into the crowd after sharing would-be plans they had for her with one another. She felt sick. She fought the instinct to glance over her shoulder to where her mother was on the dais. Why she’d want to look to her for comfort, she didn’t know. She wouldn’t get it.

She had no one.

She was alone.

Croía’s breath hitched in her throat as she fought back the emotions threatening to spill out; she closed her eyes and thought of the one thing that could calm her … yet simultaneously wreck her.

Liam.

An ache rippled through Croía’s chest as she envisioned his smile, his kind blue eyes, and the sound of his laugh. Her mother’s words about him forgetting and giving up on her had infiltrated the deepest parts of her the past few days; as she slowly lost what little hope she had left, those words burrowed themselves into her soul.

He’s forgotten you.

He’s given up on you.

What she wouldn’t give to tell him how sorry she was. She didn’t mean to let him down. She should have listened when he warned her not to come back here. She had no one to blame but herself for where she was at that very moment, and she couldn’t and wouldn’t blame him or anyone else for feeling the same. She’d made the stupid decision to come, all to seek some form of approval and affection from her parents that she knew deep down she’d never get.

I was a fool. A naive fool.

A voice pulled her from her daze and her eyes snapped open as her body went rigid under the scrutinizing gaze of another “suitor” now standing in front of her.

****

Blaine, Leo, and Simon stood in the back corner of the ballroom, casually sipping drinks as they scanned the crowd.

They’d kept to themselves save for a few curt nods of acknowledgment that they returned to other guests. They all found themselves on edge, however. Each time one of the guests approached Croía — who had yet to move from her place at the front of the dais — they watched them intently. When the King, Queen, and their creepy hooded cronies stepped off the dais and made their way around the room, they managed to dodge them entirely, making sure to stay huddled in an area they already bypassed. When the King and Queen returned to their seats on the dais, the others remained mingling with the rest of the crowd before they slipped out; Amalas confirmed they had left, having seen them on the security feed.

“It’s almost time.”

Leo released a breath of relief at the sound of Trystan’s voice crackling in his ear. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Handling something.”

“Handling what?” Simon asked.

“Lydea. I’m moving into my spot now. They should be starting any moment. Everett is in position waiting for you.”

As if on cue, a bell chimed, signaling that it was time for the Drakovian waltz. They had worked this part out so that no matter where they were positioned, they knew where they needed to end up. They watched as Croía finally moved from her place at the front of the dais to the center of the dance floor while the other guests took up positions around her.

As they made their way to the dance floor, out of the corner of his eye, Leo saw Lydea stride into the ballroom with another guard following closely behind her, making her way toward the dais. “Are you sure you handled your sister?” he whispered. “Because she just walked in and is headed right for your parents.”

“Just do what we planned. Don’t worry about her.”

As the music started and slowly began to swell, Lydea stepped onto the dais with the other guard and they stood in front of her parents, blocking most of their view. She leaned forward, appearing to start some deep discussion as the dance started.

Other guests besides those vying for the Drakovian crown were now on the dance floor, but the idea was to give each “suitor” a dance with the Princess.

The asshole that had been in front of them in the line earlier had somehow managed to end up as Croía’s first partner.

As they went through the steps, Simon, Blaine, and Leo kept their eyes on Croía, and during each switch, they moved closer, throwing some off as they cut them off and took their respective partners, but it was easy for them to rectify and not enough to draw attention.

Croía was being spun around from one guest to the next. When she switched partners again, the man she had been supposed to go to was cut off as another swept her away into a twirl. She glanced over at her mother on the dais, knowing the slip-up would infuriate her, but she hadn’t seen it; she was busy speaking to Lydea.

When she looked back at her dance partner, he smiled. “Nice moves, darl.”

Croía’s eyes slightly widened, recognizing both the voice and the silly term of endearment. “Si—”

Before she could finish, Croía was twirled away into another pair of arms. She glanced around for who she could have sworn she’d just been with, but she couldn’t spot him in the crowd of tuxes and masks. Her chest burned where the brief spark of hope had started to ignite but was abruptly put out. She knew it wasn’t possible and her mind had just been playing tricks on her.

Blaine had Croía now, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything to her, not knowing how she or himself would react. He just wanted to get her the hell out of there and away from this place and these people as soon as possible.

A few moments later, Croía was spun away again, landing in another set of strong arms. She knew something wasn’t right; she should still be at the center of the dance floor, but she had somehow shifted and was now near the back edge instead. She glanced at the dais again to gauge her mother’s reaction to her having somehow messed this up, but she was still distracted in conversation with Lydea.

“Looking fancy, Cocoa Bean.”

Croía’s gaze snapped to the man in front of her at the instant recognition of the nickname; when she met his piercing blue gaze through his mask, her eyes welled with tears as her heart pounded. “L-Leo?”

“Shhh.” Leo looked around, feeling her start to shake in his grasp as he continued to shuffle through the waltz steps. “Breathe, Croía,” he whispered. “Focus and don’t draw attention to yourself right now. I’m going to pass you off here in a minute and you need to go. Do you hear me?” She gave a quick nod, holding his gaze through the mask as if she were afraid this moment wasn’t real. “Good. I’ll see you soon,” he winked.

With that, Leo spun her away from him with a bit of force, sending her stumbling backward toward an alcove at the back wall. Before she could register what was happening, an arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her through a secret door. She went to scream, but a large hand clamped over her mouth to silence her. Her eyes snapped up when she was spun around and they widened when she saw his face.

“Trystan,” Croía choked out as he pulled her to him.

“I’m here, kid,” Trystan replied. “I’m right here.” He closed his eyes when she clung to him, fisting his suit jacket in her hands; he could feel her trembling and hear her breath hitch but forced himself to refocus, stepping back from her and gripping her shoulders as he looked into her tear-filled eyes. “Listen to me. We don’t have a lot of time. I’ll explain everything, but we need to go. Now.”

Croía’s mind and heart were racing but she had enough sense to nod in reply.

Trystan gripped her hand like a vice as he pulled her down a dark and musty passageway, moving through it as if it were second nature. The sound of her heels clicking against the concrete floor echoed against the old stone walls; he was moving so fast that she had to practically jog to keep up with his long strides. She had no idea where they were or where they were going.

After turning a few more corners, they rushed toward a door at the end of the passageway, and when Trystan pulled Croía through its opening, she was outside. She watched him turn and pull out the thick piece of wood that had been there. The heavy door slammed shut with a resounding thud.

“Let’s go,” Trystan said as he turned back, grabbing Croía’s hand again and pulling her into a pathway in the woods.

Between the still lingering panic and moving so quickly, Croía was gasping for breath as they rushed through the dark woods. Her gown had snagged on branches and brambles, tearing the fabric in places and sweat beaded the hairline of her no longer elegant updo.

Soon, they burst through the end of the pathway onto an abandoned dirt road, and Croía skidded to a halt when she saw two SUVs and the silhouette of a man standing in front of one … a man she didn’t recognize.

“Trystan,” Croía’s voice cracked as she stumbled back.

“It’s ok,” Trystan said. “Everett has been helping me … feeding me information to help get you out. He’s good. He’s coming with us.” He looked at the guard as he gave a quick bow. “Everyone ready?”

“Yes, sir,” Everett nodded.

“Good. Let’s go.”

“Where are Leo and Simon?” Croía asked.

Trystan ushered Croía to the first SUV, opened the back door, and helped her in while Everett slipped into the driver’s seat. “They’re in the other SUV with Jonas and Blaine.”

Jonas and Blaine, Croía thought as she was hit with another wave of emotion.

As he yanked the seatbelt across her chest and buckled it, Trystan could sense her gaze on him, and he looked up; he lifted his hands and pulled the mask off her face. “Are you ok? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I …” Croía trailed off as a lump swelled in her throat. She was overwhelmed and confused. Too much was happening all at once and she couldn’t think straight.

Trystan. Leo. Blaine. Simon.

How they managed to get in or what exactly they had done, Croía didn’t know. But for a brief moment, she couldn’t help but think … if they were there, did that mean someone else was there?

Those words that had made a home in her soul filled her head once again.

He’s forgotten you.

He’s given up on you.

“I’m ok,” Croía finally choked out just above a whisper.

Trystan nodded. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” He stepped back and shut her door. “Amalas … we’re on our way,” he said as he walked around to the other side. He chucked Croía’s mask on the ground of the dirt road before he slid inside.

****

Amalas and Olivia looked at one another with grins. “Do you want to tell them or should I?” Olivia asked as she gestured in Liam’s and Alia’s direction; they were both pacing on the deck outside.

“You can do the honors,” Amalas replied as she looked back at the screen and began typing. “I need to get this footage onto a USB before I wipe their security feed.”

Olivia nodded as she pushed back her chair and stood, making her way toward the sliding door. When she opened it and stepped outside, both Liam’s and Alia’s gazes snapped in her direction. “They’re on their way back.”

“They … they got her?” Liam’s voice cracked.

Olivia felt an unmistakable sting in her eyes at the look on her friend’s face. She nodded, “They got her.”

Alia squealed through tears and ran inside, throwing her arms around her sister.

A sharp breath, one he felt like he’d been holding all night, escaped Liam. And suddenly, he was trembling. “They got her …” He needed to hear her say it again.

“They did.”

In the next moment, Liam sank to his knees and covered his face with his hands. Weeks worth of suppressed worry mixed with more gratitude than he’d ever felt in his life and it all poured out at once.

Olivia placed her hand on his back as she crouched down next to him. “She’s on her way, Li.”

****

Thirty minutes into their drive back to Rivala, Trystan glanced over at Croía beside him, watching her as she stared out the window. His hand was clutched in hers; she hadn’t let it go since he got into the SUV.

But she’d been silent.

And that worry Trystan had about how far inside her shell she would be gnawed at him because he hadn’t been able to gauge her.

Trystan hadn’t expected her to ask him questions about any of what took place that evening, not right now, not with Everett in the vehicle, someone she didn’t know. But it was her emotions — or lack thereof — that had him worried.

While Croía had shed some tears, it wasn’t anything like what he’d braced himself for. She’d always been an emotional person, and considering what she’d been through, to be honest, he expected her to break down now that she was out. But she hadn’t. He knew she probably had a lot on her mind and that she had to be feeling beyond overwhelmed after everything that happened just that night alone, but he wasn’t sure if he could chalk her lack of emotions up to that or not.

As she stared out the window, Croía’s mind and heart felt heavy. She wasn’t sure where they were headed, but as long as it was far away from the place she once called home, she didn’t care. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she continued blinking them away and pushing those emotions threatening to unleash back into their bottle; she feared if she allowed them just a little bit of freedom, she wouldn’t be able to get them back under control. So she coated herself in a blanket of numbness … but it didn’t stop those words from breaking through.

He’s forgotten you.

He’s given up on you.

Croía wished she could drown them out, but they played in an echo on repeat in her mind. And each time she heard them, that thread holding her together would fray.

Those words wouldn’t allow her to make sense of Leo, Blaine, and Simon being there. They offered excuses as to why else they chose to be a part of it, reasons that didn’t involve Liam …

Because he’d forgotten … he’d given up.

****

Sitting inside the living area of the cabin, Alia and Liam stared out the window, waiting for the slightest glimpse of headlights to shine into the darkness outside and signal that the others had returned. Amalas and Olivia had made them stop watching long enough to force both of them to eat something, but as soon as they finished, they both returned to the sofa facing the window.

Liam’s eyes flickered between his watch and the window; he’d been counting down the minutes since Olivia stepped onto the deck to tell them the news. It’d been just over an hour … they should be there.

Just as his eyes slid down to check his watch again, Alia sprung up, and his gaze snapped back to the window; the trees outside were illuminated by a light that grew brighter with each second.

Then two SUVs rolled to a stop.

Liam slowly rose to his feet as his eyes shifted between the two vehicles.

Alia was already rushing for the door. She flung it open, ran out onto the porch, and paused, watching as the back door of each SUV opened. Trystan emerged from one, and Leo from the other. When Trystan reached into the vehicle, she saw a hand take his, and a moment later, he helped Croía out.

Alia flew down the stairs, making a beeline toward her. “Croía!” She threw her arms around her.

Croía returned her embrace as her vision blurred. “Hi,” she choked out. Her eyes snapped to the front porch when two figures appeared from inside.

Olivia and Amalas.

Something inside Croía’s chest twisted, both with gratitude and heartache.

Alia drew back to look at her. “You’re ok?”

“Yeah,” Croía nodded before she was pulled into another hug. She closed her eyes, trying to compose herself.

Alia stepped back again, tearfully smiling as she tucked a loose strand of Croía’s hair behind her ear. Hearing the soft crunch of gravel behind her, she glanced over her shoulder, and when she looked back at Croía, her smile was broad.

When Alia stepped aside … there stood Liam.

Croía felt that dam inside her start to crumble at the mere sight of him.

He didn’t forget.

He didn’t give up.

He’s here.

Suddenly, that thread that was barely holding her together snapped and the last several weeks crashed over her all at once. Her heart felt as though it was folding in on itself, making it hard to breathe. Croía pressed her palm to her chest and bowed her head as a sob ripped from her throat and her knees buckled beneath her, and she began to sink to the ground.

Before she could hit the gravel, Liam was there, wrapping his strong arms around her and pulling her up to him as she fell apart, trembling through broken sobs in his embrace. He bit his lip, rapidly blinking his eyes to rid them of the sting in an attempt to hold himself together for her because, at that moment, she needed him to.

Trystan chewed the inside of his cheek, watching her finally drop that veil and break down.

With an arm wrapped securely around her and holding her against him, Liam cradled the back of her head with his hand and tilted his head, pressing his lips to her ear. “I’m here, love,” he whispered as she continued to cry into his chest. “I’ve got you.”

When he glanced up, Liam saw the misty eyes of the others as they stared at her … at the two of them. And in the next moment, he scooped her into his arms.

Croía tucked her head into the crook of his neck, clinging to him as he turned and carried her into the cabin.

***************************************

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