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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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Text

Vancross

Vancross - As Long As There’s You At My Side (Chapter 19)

Most of the characters belong to Pixelberry.

Title inspiration: Golden - Scars On 45

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

Leaning back against his headboard on a Friday afternoon, Liam typed away on his laptop, finishing up the last couple of paragraphs of a paper he had due for one of his classes. His eyes flickered up from the screen and he smiled when they fell on Croía; she was lying horizontally across his bed with one of his legs draped over the backs of her knees as she, too, worked on a paper for another class.

It had been a month since Vancross closed its campus to students and they started virtual classes. Hour-long meetings with the professors from each of their classes were held Monday through Thursday, leaving them with three-day weekends to work on assignments and study for exams while the investigation into the attack remained ongoing. From what they were told through weekly updates from the Dean, they still had no evidence as to who was behind it.

Liam wasn’t sure how to feel about the situation. On one hand, it was nice being home and with his family which he typically wouldn’t see much of during the school year. On the other hand, it was his final year, one they were midway through, and he didn’t know if he’d ever be returning. He was thankful, however, that Croía chose to stay with him in Cordonia.

When they learned that the campus would be closing, Constantine and Eleanor didn’t hesitate to invite Croía to stay, and she didn’t hesitate when she accepted the offer. A week later, Blaine and Alia arrived in Cordonia after the same offer was extended to them. The four of them were staying in Liam’s wing, working on assignments and studying together along with Rashad and Olivia, who would come from their duchies a couple times a week.

Liam knew his mother was trying to make their time away from campus feel as close to normal as she could.

After finishing the last of his paper, Liam closed his laptop and set it on the bed before moving next to Croía. “How is yours coming along?” he asked before dropping a kiss on her shoulder.

“Done,” Croía smiled as she scanned over the document. “Just looking it over.”

“Do you have anything else to work on?”

“I have to study for my IRT exam.”

“Good ol’ International Relations Theory.”

Croía looked at him. “How did you manage to get out of taking that class anyway?”

“Because I took it last year,” Liam chuckled. “I got put in it by some glitch in the system and they were going to take me out, but I asked my advisor if I could just get it over with, and he said it was fine as long as I thought I could handle it with my other classes.”

“And … how’d you do?”

“Aced it, of course,” Liam smiled.

Croía playfully rolled her eyes with a good-natured grin. “Overachiever.”

“Think of it this way … that means that I’m the perfect person to help you study.”

“Oh?” Croía chuckled.

“Mmhmm,” Liam nodded as he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. He felt her smile before parting her lips, allowing his tongue to find hers.

As the kiss deepened, Liam lifted his hand, closing her laptop and pushing it off to the side; he rolled to his back and pulled her over until she was straddling him. He combed her hair back from her face, becoming more consumed in the kiss with each slow curl of her tongue against his. With his legs dangling off the edge of the bed, he sat up; one hand dropped and splayed against her back to press her body flush against his own as he wrapped her long hair around his other. He gave a gentle tug, causing her to break the kiss as her head tilted back before his lips found her neck.

Over the past month, Liam found himself lost in Croía any free moment they had. He couldn’t get enough. Since that first night in the safe house, she couldn’t seem to get enough either. He’d always found her innocence and shy-by-nature personality endearing, but he also loved watching this more sensual side of her unfurl and come alive. Each time was more perfervid than the one before as she became more attuned with not only this never-explored side of herself but him as well. And while she was still the same kind-hearted, sweet, and coy woman he first met, the confidence that this newfound side gave her was, if he was being honest, sexy as hell and a turn-on all by itself.

Just as Liam’s hands slid up underneath Croía’s shirt, planning to pull it off of her, a knock sounded on his bedroom door. He paused his movements, slowly lifting his head as she looked at him.

“Li?” Blaine called out on the other side of the door. “Your dad is downstairs.”

Liam dropped his head back with a sigh. “Tell him I’ll be down in a minute.” He looked back at her, smiling ruefully. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Croía chuckled as she maneuvered off his lap.

Liam stared at her longingly as she adjusted her clothes back into place and he let out a grumble as he flopped back and rolled to his stomach, burying his face in his arms. “I need you to describe to me, in detail, Rocky Mountain oysters.”

A laugh escaped Croía as she walked by the bed. “I’ll give you a second.” She opened the bedroom door and stepped out, closing it behind her as she met Blaine. “He’s coming.”

Blaine flashed a knowing smirk having heard Liam grumble a moment before. “Not the way he wants to be, I’m guessing?” He let out a rumble of laughter when her cheeks flushed as she walked past him.

Croía headed downstairs, and when she reached the bottom, Constantine was waiting near the door, smiling. “Hello, Croía,” he nodded.

“Hello, sir,” Croía smiled in return, then waved to Eleanor who stood behind him.

A few moments later, Liam appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Hello,” he greeted his father. “Everything ok?”

“Yes,” Constantine nodded. “I was stopping by to see if you were busy.”

“Not at the moment,” Liam replied. “I just finished up a paper. Why, what’s up?”

“I have a meeting I need to attend with Landon regarding trading coming into Portavira’s entrepôt that I thought would be good for you to sit in on.”

“Oh … yeah, sure,” Liam nodded.

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Constantine said.

Eleanor stepped forward. “Croía, I have some preparation planning for the Peace Summit to do and wondered if you might like to join me?” she smiled. “Please don’t feel like you have to say yes, I just thought I’d extend the offer while Constantine stole Liam away.”

“Sure,” Croía smiled. She’d heard the summit mentioned a few times in the time she’d been there and, truthfully, she found herself a tad curious about it.

“You’re not busy with any classwork?” Eleanor asked.

“No, ma’am,” Croía shook her head. “I have an exam I was going to study for, but Liam was going to help me, so I’d be waiting until he finished up anyway.”

Eleanor smiled. “As long as you’re sure … and you want to. Again, please don’t feel like you have to.”

“I’m sure,” Croía smiled.

“Alia and I will hold down the fort while you’re gone,” Blaine said from the top of the stairs where he leaned against the railing.

Liam glanced over his shoulder, shaking his head with a knowing smile before looking back at his parents. “We’re ready when you are,” he said as he gestured toward the door. He slipped his hand into Croía’s as they followed him into the hall.

Constantine and Eleanor fell into step on either side of the pair as they walked down the corridor; while Liam talked quietly with his father about the meeting, Eleanor looked at Croía. “It’s nothing arduous that we’re going to be doing,” she said. “Just going over the current guest list from those that have responded and some plans for the event.”

“Well … full disclosure,” Croía began, “I haven’t … I mean, I’ve never helped with anything like this before,” she smiled sheepishly. “So, if I get in your way, feel free to tell me.”

Eleanor smiled and patted her shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

When they came to a split in the corridor, Liam slowed his steps as his father turned one way and his mother the other, both pausing to wait. He looked down at Croía and smiled. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“I won’t keep her away from you for too long,” Eleanor said. “Promise.”

Liam kissed Croía’s cheek before turning and heading down the corridor with his father toward the King’s study while Croía joined Eleanor on the walk to hers.

****

Sitting inside the Queen’s study, Croía flipped through a list of names. “They’re broken down by country and kingdom,” Eleanor explained. “It’s just easier to keep track that way, and then, when the time comes for the seating arrangements, we can keep them all together.”

“It looks like you’ll have a decent turnout,” Croía noted as she looked at the list.

“Yes,” Eleanor smiled. “It’s the first time we’ve held a Peace Summit here, so I’m glad we’ve gotten such a good response so far.”

Members of royalty from various kingdoms such as Monterisso, Pavedena, Naporvie, Ulmeria, Monterre, and Ismar, to name a few, were all planning to attend as well as members of government from Ardona, Rutherland, Esherstein, Ithanstan, and Drivosa.

The families of all of her and Liam’s friends, Croía noticed, and their friends were all on the list to attend alongside them.

There was one country and kingdom noticeably not included.

“Did … did you extend an invite to Drakovia?” Croía asked, immediately wishing she hadn’t as soon as the words left her mouth.

“We did,” Eleanor answered. “We haven’t heard back from them yet. But there’s still time.”

“No offense, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Eleanor looked at her, smiling sadly; she’d heard the same thing from Trystan. “We’ve extended invites to them in the past for various events, but they don’t usually respond. So, while I know they’re likely not to attend, I hope they do.”

It was the truth. Eleanor did hope the King and Queen of Drakovia would attend, but not for the reasons Croía probably thought. The attendance of the Drakovian monarchs could bring a different kind of peace. And at the thought, a pang of guilt shot through the Cordonian Queen, knowing both her words and motives were deceptive, but just as they were trying to protect Liam, they wanted to protect Croía as well.

“Have you spoken to your parents?” Eleanor asked as casually as she could.

“Oh, uh … no,” Croía answered. She let out a breath and dropped her gaze back to the list in her hands. “I’ve called a couple of times, but I … I haven’t heard anything back. I’m sure they’re busy.”

Eleanor stared at her; she’d heard Croía make that same excuse before as to why she hadn’t been in contact with her parents. She knew she didn’t believe her own words, able to hear the disappointment and hurt in the lie even though she tried to mask it. She’d heard from Liam how Croía was treated, but heard even more unsettling details about it from Trystan. And her heart broke for the young woman sitting before her, the one who still held onto hope that her family would someday show her love and affection despite being made to believe all her life that she was nothing to them … the same young woman who had become an integral and special part of her son’s life, and because of that, her own. She’d taken a liking to Croía, more so over the last month and seeing firsthand how happy she made Liam. Perhaps it was her natural motherly instinct, but she wanted to protect Croía from all of the same things she wanted to protect her own children from. And she wanted to help her, to see her thrive and succeed; it was part of the reason she’d asked if she wanted to join her that afternoon.

Eleanor knew Croía didn’t have the experience that others in her position typically would, and not all of those kinds of lessons could be learned from a class or a book. And while guest lists and event planning were the more frivolous sides of her role, Eleanor had a few reasons for spending this time with Croía; she had a purpose for it all.

“Well, why don’t we see how many from each country and kingdom are coming so far,” Eleanor said, changing the subject. She smiled as she sat next to her on the small sofa. “That way, we can start to figure out how we’re going to do the seating.”

****

That evening, Constantine and Eleanor sat inside the King’s study, unwinding from their day with drinks. When Constantine’s phone rang, he stood from the sofa and walked to his desk, lifting the receiver to his ear. “Yes?”

“Hello, Constantine,” Trystan greeted him.

“Trystan,” Constantine said as he glanced over his shoulder at his wife; she rose from the sofa and came beside him as he put the call on speaker. “How are you?”

“I’m well. I hope you and Eleanor are the same.”

“We’re good,” Eleanor answered, letting him know she was there.

“I’m here with Cameron,” Trystan said. “We just wanted to give you a little update.”

Constantine and Eleanor shared a look. “We’re listening.”

“It’s not much of an update,” Cameron chimed in. “We’re still looking for the proof we need. We just need some more time to find that smoking gun.”

“What we’ve found so far is better than nothing,” Eleanor replied. “It has to lead somewhere.”

“Unfortunately, these people are very good at keeping things hidden,” Cameron said.

“I can imagine, considering they’ve flown under the radar for as long as they have,” Constantine scoffed. “But at least we’re getting somewhere.”

In the time since they started their undercover investigation, the Cordonian monarchs along with Trystan and Cameron had uncovered more than they bargained for with the help of Damien and his Interpol connection. They’d come to learn that things were far more complicated and complex than they initially thought. And despite how much they’d found — and because of it — they needed more. What they had was only enough to drum up more suspicion and speculation. Both the delicacy and complexity of the situation called for more conclusive evidence because they couldn’t take any chances or risk any slip-ups based on technicalities. They needed a surefire smoking gun before they could make any moves, and they had yet to find it.

“How’s Croía?” Trystan asked.

“She’s doing good,” Eleanor answered. “She was with me earlier, actually, helping me with some things regarding the Peace Summit.”

“Taking her under your wing, are you?” Trystan quipped.

Eleanor chuckled. “I simply extended the offer to keep her occupied while Constantine had Liam sit in on a meeting with him.”

“She likes to learn, but was never given the chance back home,” Trystan said. “So I’m glad she’s got you there.”

“Speaking of the summit,” Eleanor began. “Are you still aiming to have enough evidence by then?”

“Yes,” Cameron answered. “Damien still thinks it would be easier to have Interpol be there than it would be for them to get into Drakovia. I’m hoping we’ll have what we need, and that’s the goal, but I don’t want to make any promises.”

“And I still wouldn’t put too much faith in them attending,” Trystan interjected. “I know Damien thinks that’ll be the easiest way, but it’d be a damn miracle if they accepted. And if they do, be on alert because it wouldn’t be because they’re actually looking for peace. If they accept, they’ll have an ulterior motive for doing so.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Constantine replied.

“And Liam and Croía … they still don’t know anything about it?” Trystan asked.

“No,” Eleanor and Constantine answered in unison.

“We’ve only been giving them the updates from the Dean and the University’s investigation, not our own,” Constantine added. He shared a look with his wife. “We’ll tell them when we need to …”

****

After having dinner with Blaine and Alia, Liam and Croía headed up to his room while the other two decided to venture down into the capitol in search of dessert. They’d offered for them to tag along, but Liam knew they hadn’t spent much time alone since their arrival in Cordonia; he’d told Blaine about one of his favorite local spots to take her.

Croía sat on the bed and let out a breath, glancing at Liam when he sat down beside her. “How did that meeting with your dad go?”

“Fine,” Liam shrugged. “Just some trade stuff he wanted me to overhear.” He glanced over at her with a chuckle. “How was planning with my mom?”

“It was fine,” Croía smiled. “Everyone is coming to that summit. Alia and her parents and sister. Blaine and his parents. Kennedy and her mom. Dionne and her parents. Peter and his parents and brother … to name a few.”

“Yeah, I knew Blaine and Alia were coming, only because they told me,” Liam said. “I figured the others would more than likely tag along … or be dragged along,” he chuckled.

“I noticed Drakovia wasn’t on the list,” Croía said. “I asked your mom about it … she said they invited them, but in a surprising turn of events, they haven’t heard back,” she quipped.

Liam shifted to sit in front of her. “Maybe they’ll come.” He knew they wouldn’t.

“Doubtful,” Croía replied. Liam smiled sadly before lifting a hand to her cheek; he drew her to him and pressed his lips to hers as his other hand settled on her waist. Before they could get too lost in the moment, she gently broke the kiss. “I have to study for my IRT exam.”

“You have all weekend,” Liam whispered.

Croía chuckled as he kissed her again. “I need to get some studying done tonight. And you said you’d help me.”

“I will help,” Liam said as he brushed his thumb across her bottom lip before kissing her once more.

“I think we have two different definitions of help at the moment.”

A rumble of impish laughter escaped Liam as he drew back to meet her gaze. “Ok, I’ll help you study. But how about we make it a little more … interesting?”

Croía couldn’t help but chuckle at the mischievous smile he wore. “How so?”

“I’ll quiz you …” Liam smirked, leaning forward and pressing another lingering kiss to her lips. “And reward you for every right answer you get.”

Arching a curious brow, Croía smiled. “Reward me how?”

“Guess you’ll have to agree to play to find out.”

“Ok,” Croía laughed. She reached for her book on the nightstand, but he stopped her. “The questions are in the book.”

Liam tapped a finger to his temple. “It’s all up here.” He grinned when she laughed, then kissed her again as he guided her back on the bed, stopping once he was hovering over her. “First question,” he murmured against her lips. “Which theoretical perspective views globalization as a new form of imperialism?”

Croía smiled. “Neo-Marxism.”

“Good,” Liam said before finding her lips again; he kissed her slow and deep, curling his tongue against hers before shifting a moment later, kissing along her jaw to her ear. “Next question,” he whispered. “Globalization is most associated with which theory of world politics?”

“Liberalism.”

“Uh-huh,” Liam hummed as his lips lingered on her neck. He slipped his hand beneath the hem of her shirt and pushed it up, revealing her lace-covered chest; he gently dragged his hand from her neck down between the valley of her breasts and his lips followed their path before shifting off course and trailing over the swell, stopping when they met the seam of fabric. “What is the economic theory and ideology that serves as the backdrop to what is commonly referred to as globalization?”

Croía shuddered as his lips brushed over her covered peak, feeling his warm breath through the thin lace; her thoughts jumbled when the tip of his finger dipped beneath the scalloped seam and began to pull it down. “Neo-stru—” He paused, arching a brow as his gaze flickered to hers, and she shook her head. “Neoliberalism.”

A wolfish smirk curled on Liam’s lips as he slid the rest of the fabric out of his way and lowered his mouth down to her pebbled nipple; he slowly swirled his tongue before pulling away and blowing a stream of cold air against her, drawing out a soft gasp. “Name two contributing factors to global integration,” he murmured against her as his lips moved to her stomach.

“Transportation and Communication …”

“Mmhm,” Liam hummed, continuing his slow descent as his hand slid up to caress her.

“And European Colonization.”

“Very good.” Liam shifted himself lower, placing a kiss just below her navel; his hands slowly pushed up the hem of her pleated knit tennis skirt before he hooked a strong arm around one of her thighs and draped it across her hips. “What is the type of exchange rate that is based on its expected value in the international market and is considered to be self-correcting?”

Croía bit her lip, fixated on him as his lips made a path along her inner thigh, all while holding her gaze. “It’s … it’s fixed—” He paused, and she swallowed thickly. “Floating. Floating exchange rate.”

“Nice save.” Liam ghosted his lips over the thin piece of lace that covered her and he smirked when just that light touch drew a soft yet needy whimper from her. “Name one revolutionary approach to International Relations.”

When he placed another teasing kiss over the lace, Croía’s eyes fell shut as a tingle shot up her spine; she instinctively tried to arch her hips for more but was stopped by his arm holding her in place. “F-Focus on — focus on North — North and South relations,” she stuttered through a breath.

Liam chuckled, dragging a finger along the seam. “I think I might prefer to focus on the south right now,” he said before he pulled the lace aside and dropped his mouth down on her.

When she felt his velvet tongue swirl against her, Croía’s lips parted with a moan as her hand slid into his hair.

*******

A couple of days later, Liam, Croía, Blaine, and Alia sat in the living room of the south wing, all working on assignments and studying for upcoming exams.

“I wonder how much of this shit I’m actually going to use in the real world,” Blaine scoffed.

Liam chuckled just as the door to his wing flew open; they all glanced over as Leo strode into view. “Hello,” he grinned. He walked further inside and sat beside Croía on the sofa, slinging an arm over her shoulders. “Hi, Cocoa Bean.”

Liam shook his head as the others laughed, including Croía.

One night while they all hung out in the game room, Leo had caught a glimpse of Liam’s phone, seeing Croía listed in his contacts under ‘Cocoa’. He’d laughed himself hoarse, despite there being a story behind the nickname, one Liam tried to explain. Leo ignored him and the story entirely and had been calling her Cocoa Bean for the last few weeks anytime he saw her. She didn’t seem to mind, however, so neither did Liam.

“What are you up to?” Liam asked.

“I want to go golfing,” Leo said, “but I have no one to go with. So I thought you all might like to join me.”

Blaine threw his book down. “I’m in.”

Liam’s brows furrowed. “I thought you hated golf?”

“I don’t hate it, but it’s not my favorite thing either,” Blaine replied. “But I’ll do anything to get away from this shit for a while,” he said, gesturing toward the book and his laptop.

“I’m game,” Alia said.

Liam and Croía shared a look, both shrugging. “Ok.”

****

A while later, after changing into appropriate attire while Leo filled a cooler with beers and White Claws, the five of them headed out to Cormery Isle’s golf course.

They laughed and joked as they made their way through the course, all in much need of the little reprieve.

Liam, Croía, and Leo pulled up in a golf cart to where their balls landed on the seventh hole; Blaine and Alia pulled up in a second cart behind them.

After taking their shots, Leo, Blaine, and Croía sat on one of the carts after grabbing a drink from the cooler, waiting while Liam and Alia made their shots.

Leo glanced back at Blaine from the driver’s seat, chuckling. “Remember last year when we were shotgunning beers for every shot we took?”

Blaine snorted, nodding before he tipped his head back to take a sip of his beer. “And we were all shitfaced drunk by the time we got back to the palace and your mom made us all her infamous hangover remedy.”

“I swear, her spiced apple tea hangover cure is fucking gold,” Leo said. “They’ve made me functional for so many events.”

“What’s a shotgun?” Croía asked.

Leo’s brows rose in surprise and he glanced over at her in the passenger seat. “Cocoa Bean! You’ve never done a shotgun?”

“No,” Croía chuckled, shaking her head.

“Oh, we’ll need to fix that,” Leo said. “Blaine, grab me a drink.”

Blaine reached back, grabbed a can of White Claw from the cooler, and handed it to Leo. “So, the first thing you’re gonna do is make a hole down here,” he said as he tapped his finger near the bottom of the can. He grabbed the pen they were keeping score with and carefully poked through the can, maneuvering it around. “Ok,” Leo said as he finished making the hole wide enough; Blaine leaned forward from the backseat of the cart to both inspect and watch. “Take this, put your thumb over the hole, and position your other hand so you can open the tab.” He handed her the can, and she did as instructed. “Good. Ok, now, put your mouth there,” he pointed to the hole, and she leaned forward and replaced her thumb with her mouth. “Now open it and then suck.”

“Tilt it slightly,” Blaine added.

Croía tilted the can slightly as her nail flipped up the tab, but she was met with a rush of unexpected carbonation, causing her to cough into the can.

Suddenly, the liquid shot out from the opening, spraying Leo directly in the face.

Croía slowly looked over at Leo with wide eyes as what little she managed to get into her mouth dribbled out; liquid and foam dripped from his face.

In the back seat, Blaine let out a loud bark of laughter as he threw his head back. When he heard her wheeze, he looked at Croía and started to laugh even harder at seeing how hard she was now laughing; her face was bright red and her hand covered her mouth, which was open in shock as her body shook.

When Croía took a breath, she squealed out a laugh as her foot kicked the panel under the seat and she doubled forward. Both the sight and sound sent Blaine over the edge; he tipped sideways, rolling out of the cart into the grass as he clutched his stomach.

Alia and Liam approached after taking their shots, and Alia started to laugh just at the sight of Blaine rolling around on the ground.

“What the hell happened?” Liam asked, seeing a substance dripping from his brother’s face; he wore a grin despite whatever just occurred.

A loud guffaw erupted from Blaine as he started to try and tell them the story; he rolled to his side with a wheeze as he slapped the ground, unable to continue.

“I was trying to teach Cocoa Bean how to do a shotgun,” Leo began to explain through a laugh of his own as he wiped his face down with his golf towel. “But I somehow managed to get a face full of White Claw instead.”

Alia couldn’t contain her laughter at the imagery.

“I-I’m sorry … I-I got a …” Croía trailed off, unable to speak as another shriek of laughter bubbled out of her.

Liam looked at her and he couldn’t help but chuckle as she gripped his arm; tears glistened in the corners of her eyes as the melodious sound of her contagious laughter filled the air. He’d seen her laugh plenty of times, but never that hard … and he never wanted to go another day without seeing or hearing it again, without seeing her so utterly happy and carefree.

“Holy fuck,” Blaine chortled. He slowly rolled onto all fours, trying to catch his breath. “My abs hurt. That …” He trailed off, snorting. “That was the funniest fucking thing. His face …” He howled, dropping his head onto the ground between his arms as he continued to laugh. “Shit, Croía.”

Leo gripped Croía’s shoulder. “We’ll need to work on your execution, Cocoa Bean,” he chuckled.

*******

The following Friday, Liam, Croía, Blaine, and Alia sat in the living room of the south wing, watching a movie; they’d spent all week working on assignments, had gone out to the beer garden with Leo, Rashad, and Olivia the night before, and were taking that night to relax.

Midway through the film, a knock sounded on the door; Liam paused the movie and shouted for them to come in. A moment later, Constantine and Eleanor appeared. “Sorry to interrupt,” Constantine smiled apologetically at the group as they all sat up.

“No worries,” Liam said. “What’s up?”

Constantine and Eleanor walked into the living area and took the two empty seats on either end of the sectional. “We just received a call from the Dean. Vancross is opening campus back up.”

They all smiled. “When?” Blaine questioned.

“One week,” Eleanor answered. “They’re giving you next week free of classes to allow you to get yourselves situated before returning.”

“So they finished the investigation?” Croía asked.

“They closed it,” Constantine said. “They couldn’t find any evidence pointing to who was behind the attack. Being that it’s been over a month, they didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure they’ll still be looking into it, but they think it’s time for the students to return.”

“Your parents are aware,” Eleanor said to Blaine and Alia. “They’re leaving it up to you whether or not you want to go right from here or go home for the week before returning.”

The pair shared a look. “We should probably go see them before going back,” Alia said. “We won’t see them again until graduation.”

“Yeah,” Blaine nodded.

As they began to discuss leaving the following morning, Croía took in Alia’s words. We won’t see them again until graduation. She hadn’t seen her mother since her impromptu visit, and she hadn’t seen her father since she left to attend Vancross. She hadn’t been home at all. They hadn’t tried to reach out to her and hadn’t returned any of her calls. And while a part of her knew it was foolish to even want to see them or to think they cared about seeing her, another part of her couldn’t let go of the notion that she had a home and family of her own.

Alia and Blaine excused themselves to go call their parents and make their arrangements to leave, leaving Liam and Croía alone with Constantine and Eleanor.

“I … I should go home, too,” Croía said.

Liam furrowed his brows as he snapped his gaze in her direction. “What?”

“Alia’s right,” Croía said quietly as she looked at him. “We won’t have another chance to go home again before graduation, and that’s a few months away. And I haven’t … I haven’t been home at all since school started.” She could see the wariness in his eyes. “I know I haven’t talked to them … but maybe I should try to see them.”

Liam knew why she wanted to go — or rather, felt like she had to. She didn’t want to give up on believing that maybe one day they’d see her for more than the mistake they told her she was. She wanted their love and acceptance so badly that she was willing to risk her emotional well-being on the off chance she might get it. Every instinct inside him wanted to tell her not to go, to beg her not to go and to stay with him. He’d seen firsthand what being around just her mother did to her, and he didn’t want to see her fall back into that headspace she was so easily put in before. He didn’t want to see her hurt and defeated if this trip home didn’t go the way she hoped it would … and he was almost certain that’s what would happen.

Liam let out a breath. “But Croía—”

“It’s just a week,” Croía interrupted, seeing more trepidation fill his expression as he stared at her. “And then we’ll be back at campus.”

Constantine looked at his wife the same moment Eleanor looked at him; he recognized the question in her eyes. He knew she didn’t want Croía to go either and that look told him exactly what she was thinking: She doesn’t know what we know. But he subtly shook his head at her silent request. They couldn’t risk telling anyone, including Liam and Croía. Not yet.

“Are you sure, Croía?” Eleanor asked, hoping she might reconsider.

“I’m sure,” Croía nodded with a halfhearted smile. “And while I’m there … maybe I can bring up the Peace Summit and gauge their interest in possibly attending.”

“Well, how about I go with you,” Liam said.

Constantine and Eleanor both stiffened at his words.

“I appreciate the offer, but I think it might be best if I go by myself,” Croía said, much to his parents’ relief. “I’ll be fine,” she assured him.

Liam continued to stare at her. “When … when are you going to leave?”

“Blaine and Alia seem to be leaving in the morning,” Croía noted. “So maybe sometime tomorrow afternoon. I’ll have to have Jonas call to have the jet prepared and sent.”

“No need to call for the jet. You’re more than welcome to use ours,” Constantine offered, although his motives weren’t entirely selfless; he didn’t trust a Drakovian jet landing on Cordonian soil.

Liam heaved a sigh as he finally dropped Croía’s gaze. He didn’t like the idea of her leaving. He didn’t like it at all.

****

The movie night had been cut short so Blaine, Alia, and — much to Liam’s dismay — Croía could pack their bags.

Liam sat on the edge of his bed, watching Croía stuff the final pieces of her clothing into her suitcase before zipping it shut. She set her bag over by the door and turned to face him; the look he gave her had her seriously contemplating her decision.

When Croía approached him, she rested her hands on his shoulders, and Liam pulled her down so she was straddling his lap. He searched her icy blue eyes as he tucked her hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you to go,” he said just above a whisper.

“I’ll be ok,” Croía said, not sure whether she was trying to convince him or herself.

“Does Trystan know you’re going?”

“No,” Croía chuckled, knowing he was hoping her brother would change her mind. “I haven’t called to tell him, but I will.” He shook his head, dropping her gaze. “If I come back disappointed … it’s no one’s fault but my own.”

Liam looked at her again. “If that’s even a possibility, why go?” he asked. “Why risk making yourself feel like that?”

“Because I … I just feel like I need to do this,” Croía replied. “For myself.” Liam sighed, dropping his head on her shoulder. “Listen …” She forced his gaze back to hers. “If this trip goes badly … I promise, it’ll be the last time I try.”

“You won’t go back again?”

“No,” Croía shook her head. “I think this trip will tell me everything I need to know.”

Liam chewed the inside of his cheek as his hold around her tightened. “I still don’t like the idea of you going … especially by yourself.”

“I’ll be ok.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to change her mind, Liam heaved a defeated sigh as he dropped his head on her shoulder. “I’ve gotten used to you being here with me,” he murmured. “I don’t want to wake up without you.”

Croía chuckled. “It’s only a week.”

“Too long.” Liam lifted his gaze back to hers, holding it for a moment before he closed the small space between them and pressed his lips to hers.

When they parted, Croía rested her forehead against his. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Liam kissed her again, this time more ardently; he turned, laying her back on the bed, planning to make the most of that night. And she eagerly returned the kiss with the very same intention.

*******

The following morning, Liam and Croía said their goodbyes to Blaine and Alia before they left, and that afternoon, they rode in silence and hand-in-hand in the back of an SUV to the airport for Croía’s flight.

Anthony drove the pair with Jonas riding beside him in the passenger seat; knowing they were in cahoots, she had instructed her guard not to call Trystan, telling him she would do so herself. In the third row behind them sat Leo, who offered to tag along, knowing his brother might need a distraction on the way back.

Liam tossed and turned all night, trying to come up with some way of changing Croía’s mind, but he fell short. Despite her assuring him she would be fine and that it would only be a week before she saw him again, he still couldn’t bring himself to get on board with the idea. He didn’t push, however, because he didn’t want her to think he was being overbearing.

When the SUV pulled up to the tarmac alongside the waiting jet, the two guards exited the vehicle first; Anthony went to do a cursory check of the aircraft while Jonas grabbed Croía’s suitcase.

When Liam’s guard reappeared a few moments later, giving the all-clear, Liam sighed as he opened the door and stepped out, turning to offer a hand to Croía; she said goodbye to Leo, who gave her a quick hug, before taking Liam’s hand and allowing him to help her out.

The pair walked slowly toward the stairs; Jonas shook Anthony’s hand before stepping onto the jet while the latter headed back to the SUV, giving Liam and Croía some privacy.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Liam asked, forcing a small smile.

“I’ll be fine,” Croía reiterated with a sad smile as she looked up at him. “Remember, it’s only a week.”

Liam wrapped his arms around her as hers looped around his neck. “I know …” He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers.

“We’ll talk every day.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Croía assured him, and he kissed her again.

Croía cupped his face in her hands. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips as he rested his forehead against hers.

“I love you, too.”

After drawing back from another kiss, Croía stepped back, knowing she wouldn’t get on that jet if she lingered there any longer. “I’ll call you as soon as I land.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Liam watched her turn and head up the stairs; she gave him a wave and one last smile over her shoulder before disappearing into the cabin. He walked backward, watching Jonas secure the door, and when he reached the SUV, he leaned against it, waiting to see her take off.

A moment later, Leo appeared beside him. “Relax. She’ll only be gone a week.”

Liam didn’t take his eyes off the jet as it turned toward the open airstrip. Yes, he knew it was only a week, but he had an odd feeling that he couldn’t seem to shake, one that grew in intensity as he watched the aircraft pick up speed down the runway before lifting into the air.

*******

The following Thursday, Liam sat out on the balcony of his bedroom, eating breakfast as he scanned a newspaper. His eyes kept flickering to his phone, waiting for Croía’s morning call.

As promised, Croía had called him twice a day every day since she left. They messaged each other throughout each day as well.

That first night, when Liam asked how her return was received, all Croía said was, “as expected.” Each night since, she told him how her parents had been in closed-door meetings all day and she had yet to see either of them. That was until yesterday afternoon when she sent a message to tell him she was having dinner with them that evening; she said she would call him later to tell him how it went.

Croía never called.

Liam had sent a couple of messages to see if everything was ok and to ask how the dinner went, but he never got a response.

As he looked at his phone again, Liam told himself not to panic, that she had probably just fallen asleep and wasn’t awake yet. He still couldn’t shake that odd feeling he had, though, and it was doing him no favors in staying optimistic.

When his phone chimed with an incoming call, Liam threw the paper down and snatched his phone up; he let out a breath when he saw the name flash across the screen. “Hi,” he answered.

“Well, don’t you sound chipper this morning,” Blaine chuckled.

“Sorry,” Liam sighed. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be heading out tomorrow morning.”

Blaine was flying back to Cordonia tomorrow so he and Liam could head back to Vancross together Saturday morning; they wanted to give themselves time to get resituated in their suite and relax before classes started up again on Monday. Rashad and Olivia were taking the Domavlliers jet but weren’t planning to return to campus until Sunday.

“Is Alia coming too?” Liam asked.

“No,” Blaine answered. “She has an event she’s attending with her family tomorrow evening, so she’s just going to meet us back at Vancross Saturday morning.”

“Ok …”

“Are you alright?” Blaine asked.

“I’m just waiting for Croía to call.”

“What’s wrong?”

Liam sighed. “She was supposed to call me last night but never did. And she hasn’t called or answered my messages this morning.”

“Calm down,” Blaine chuckled. “She’s probably still sleeping. Don’t get yourself all worked up over nothing.”

“Right …” Liam drummed his fingers against the table.

Something told him it wasn’t “nothing.”

*******

The next afternoon, Liam sat inside the living area of his wing after he’d returned to the palace from picking Blaine up at the airport. Liam held his phone to his ear, listening to it ring and ring and ring before Croía’s voicemail picked up. He sighed, ending the call and tossing his phone on the table in front of him before running his hand down his face.

“Still nothing?” Blaine asked, and Liam shook his head. “Let me try.” He scrolled through his contacts before tapping his finger against Croía’s name. It rang … and rang and rang and rang … until her voicemail picked up. “Nothing …”

“Has Alia heard from her?” Liam asked.

“She said the last time she talked to her was Wednesday.”

“Same as me …” Liam let out a breath, running his hand through his hair.

“We’ll keep trying,” Blaine said.

****

That night, Liam tapped his foot anxiously against the carpeted floor of his bedroom as he tried calling Croía again. He still hadn’t heard back from her. When he reached her voicemail for the umpteenth time that day, he let out a frustrated breath as he rubbed his eyes, waiting for the cue to leave a message. When he heard the beep, he lifted his head.

“Croía … it’s me again. I’m really worried. I just want to know you’re ok. Please … please call me back.”

Liam sighed as he dropped the phone away from his ear and ended the call. He thought about calling Trystan, but another part of him thought maybe he should wait. Like him, Blaine, and Alia, Croía was supposed to be returning to campus tomorrow and he didn’t want to worry her brother for no reason if there truly was an explanation as to why she hadn’t returned any of their calls or messages. He couldn’t figure out what the hell that explanation could be, but he was holding onto that small sliver of hope like a lifeline.

*******

The following morning, Liam drummed his fingers across his thigh from his seat on the jet; through the clouds, he could see Vancross University’s campus as they flew overhead, headed for the airport.

“Alia just landed and is headed back to campus now,” Blaine said, reading a message from her. Liam looked at him. “I told her we’re about five minutes behind her. She said she’ll let us know if Croía is there.”

They had yet to hear anything from Croía; their calls were now going straight to voicemail, and messages were still left unanswered.

It had been three days since Liam last spoke to Croía and that odd feeling he had when she first left had now grown into full-on panic. When he said his goodbyes to his family that morning, his mother asked if he was ok, able to tell something was bothering him; he didn’t tell her what was going on because he didn’t have any answers to explain it.

Liam’s only focus that morning was getting back to campus and seeing if Croía had arrived yet.

****

When Liam and Blaine arrived back at their suite, they dropped their bags in their rooms and met back in the living area, both with their phones in hand. Liam tapped his finger against the screen on Croía’s name and put the phone to his ear; it went straight to voicemail again.

Blaine could see the concern etched in his friend’s expression. “Maybe her phone broke or something.”

Liam merely nodded at Blaine’s attempt to settle his nerves, but he didn’t believe it. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

Suddenly, the door to their suite flung open and a frantic Alia rushed inside; she was out of breath, clearly having run from her building to theirs.

Blaine turned toward her. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Croía’s stuff … it’s not there,” Alia breathed as she pressed a palm to her chest.

Liam’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Her room is empty. All of her stuff … it’s gone.”

The color drained from Liam’s face as his heart plummeted into his stomach. “No.” In the next moment, he was rushing out the door, and Blaine and Alia followed behind him.

Liam ran along the campus path from his building towards the other. When he entered through the front doors, he bound up the steps two at a time until he came to the correct floor; he flew down the hall and pushed the door to the suite open, making a beeline for Croía’s room.

When Liam stepped inside, he froze. Just as Alia had said, the room was empty save for the bare bed and the desk and chair.

There was nothing but empty hangers in the closet.

The drawers of the dresser were pulled open and bare.

The books that once lined the built-in bookshelf were gone.

The only thing that remained to show Croía had ever been there at all was the pictures still pinned to the corkboard above the desk she once occupied. A photo of their whole group together from a night they had a bonfire on the beach, several photos of her and Alia, her and Liam, and a few of the four of them together on the many nights they hung out.

Liam looked around the empty room, blinking as if her stuff would suddenly reappear … along with her. His eyes fell on a crumpled article of clothing he spotted on the floor of the closet. He walked over and picked it up; when he held it in front of him, he saw the ‘Rys’ stitched across the top of the back. It was the mock jersey she had worn to his final polo match. He sat in the chair and leaned forward, burying his face in the shirt; the scent of vanilla and sandalwood still lingered in the fabric.

Fisting the shirt in his hands, a wave of worry, guilt, and anger washed over Liam. He didn’t trust the idea of her going home, but he didn’t try hard enough to convince her not to. He knew in his gut something was wrong when he didn’t hear from her, but he didn’t try to figure out what it was.

Blaine took a tentative step toward his friend, seeing his hands start to shake. Suddenly, Liam stood, grabbing the chair by its back and hurling it across the room with a growl; the sound of it slamming against the wall caused Alia to yelp.

Liam ran his fingers through his hair, lacing his trembling hands behind his head. The stress of the past few days had finally gotten the better of him. His chest was rising and falling heavily, his breaths shuddered and quick as he tried to wrap his mind around what the hell was happening. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t know anything.

Blaine approached him, resting a hand on his shoulder. After a few quiet moments, Alia broke the deafening silence. “What … what do you think happened?” Blaine glanced over his shoulder at hearing the worry laced in her words.

Liam dropped his arms to his sides, looking around the room again as his jaw tensed. “I … I don’t know,” he said. He stormed out of the room, unable to stand inside the emptiness any longer, stopping once he was in the living area. He pulled his phone from his pocket and went to his contacts, tapping a name on the screen before lifting it to his ear.

“Liam?”

“Have you heard from Croía?” The question tumbled out of Liam, who didn’t care about a polite greeting at the moment.

“No …” Trystan paused for a moment. “She’s supposed to be returning to campus today.”

“Yeah, but she’s not here. I haven’t talked to her since Wednesday morning; she hasn’t answered any of my calls or messages. Any calls to her started going straight to voicemail this morning. We just got back to campus, and Alia found all of her stuff from their suite gone. Her room is completely empty, Trystan.”

Trystan could hear the worry in his voice; his own anxiety spiked at what he’d just been told, but he hid it, trying to remain calm. “Let me try to call her phone for me. I’ll call you right back.” He didn’t wait for a response before hanging up.

Liam dropped his arm, gripping his phone tightly in his hand. The few seconds that went by felt like hours until his phone rang; he answered before it made half a ring. “Anything?”

“No … right to voicemail.” Trystan heard Liam let out an exasperated breath. “Listen, let me make some calls … see what I can find out. I’ll let you know as soon as I know something.”

*******

In the living area of his suite the following afternoon, Liam sat slumped on the sofa; his fist was pressed against his mouth as he stared off in a daze with his phone clutched tightly in his other hand. Blaine and Alia sat in silence across from him on the other end of the sectional.

It had been over 24 hours since Liam had spoken to Trystan, and every minute that passed that he didn’t hear from him only caused both his concern and irritation to heighten. He’d tried calling and messaging Croía several more times after his conversation with Trystan but to no avail. He’d gotten a mere couple of hours of sleep last night, and that was only because he dozed off at the kitchen counter while waiting to hear from Trystan or Croía herself. Blaine found him at 2 a.m. when he exited his room to get a bottle of water; he was slumped on the stool with his head on his arms and his hand curled around his phone. He woke him up, telling him to go get some sleep, but when he entered his room, sleep was the last thing on his mind.

When Liam’s phone chimed with an alert, his head snapped to the screen; he sank back with a heavy sigh at seeing the message from his mother, telling him she hoped they all got settled in ok and to enjoy his last day before starting classes back up tomorrow. He sent back a quick response before tossing his phone onto the table and laying back, covering his face with his hands.

Blaine looked at him. “Who was—”

“My mom,” Liam interrupted.

Alia and Blaine shared a look; Liam’s stress over the situation was palpable. Alia glanced back in Liam’s direction. “Why don’t we go get something to eat while we wait.”

Liam dropped his hands away from his face and met their gazes; his expression was a silent declination. “Come on, Li,” Blaine sighed. “I’ve been with you since yesterday afternoon and you haven’t eaten anything. You’re not doing anyone any favors by starving your damn self.”

“We don’t have to go far,” Alia said. “We can go to that Greek place right across the street from campus.”

As Liam sat there and contemplated their suggestion, a knock came on the door of the suite; he sprung up and rushed over, flinging it open.

Liam swallowed thickly when he saw none other than Trystan standing on the other side, and the look on his face immediately filled him with dread.

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

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