2. ~Skylar~

"Bastian! No!"

My eyes snapped open.

I was panting.

Sweating.

My whole body was shaking.

It was panic, it was confusion, it was a whole lot of things, and none of them good.

It took me a while to get a hold of myself, and then I took in my surroundings.

King Manor.

I was in my bedroom at the mansion.

I frowned in a whole lot of confusion.

I hadn't fallen asleep here. I hadn't even been here the last time I'd been conscious.

Had I?

No… I… I tried to concentrate, a woozy feeling impacting my thought process.

It took me a moment to notice the IV lodged in my arm and the drip being fed through said tube. Painkillers, it felt like. Ones that packed a major punch.

As that realization hit me, I made the connection to all the rest.

I'd taken a hit.

I pushed down the covers and looked to find myself in my white pajama tank with the butterfly straps and a pair of vibrant-blue lounge pants. I peeled up the hem of the tank and, sure enough, there was a gauze pad taped over my left side.

Glass.

That was what had caused the injury.

I'd been thrown through a window.

The gas station!

And… yeah… I'd been there with Bastian.

An onslaught had descended upon us.

It was too late.

He was already being shoved into one of the vans.

"Noooo!"

Bastian… they'd taken him!

Oh my God, they'd taken him!

My hands shaking, I pulled out the IV, then struggled to push out of the bed, my body protesting every movement, sluggish and not moving fluidly at all.

Although the pain in my side was numbed thanks to the medication, there was still a noticeable pull there and considerable restriction thanks to my injury.

I managed to plant my feet on the floor, then very slowly push to a standing position.

Staggering over to the bedroom door was a whole other thing and it took me a ridiculous amount of time before I was able to reach it and then open it.

I stumbled out into the corridor and I had to slap my hand to the railing in order to steady myself.

"Where you headed, Bluebell?"

I jolted at the sound of the voice and turned, in a frustratingly necessary slow way, to see Damien walking down the upper level corridor toward me.

In King Manor?

What was happening?

My brow furrowed as I tried to make sense of this strange reality before me.

"No! Save her!"

"Seb—"

"Please, brother!"

He'd helped me. Damien had somehow shown up at that gas station and intervened.

He'd stopped those bastards from taking me too.

"It's okay. It's gonna be okay, Bluebell. I've got you."

"You… you got me clear?"

I needed to hear him say it, to confirm.

In my addled state, all the confusion that the heavy-duty painkillers were serving to amplify, I guess I had to have it spelled out to me.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I got you clear, then took you to the hospital. Once you were stabilized, King brought you back here where you'd be more comfortable—and under his round-the-clock protection."

"And Bastian?"

"He—"

"Did Caspian get him back? He did, right? Tell me he did, Damien."

Pain played on his features, giving the answer away. He shoved a hand through his shaggy hair. "It's being worked on. Everything will be fine. King will make sure of it like he always does."

I slumped against the railing, trying to absorb it all. "They have him… Bastian's not here… he's been taken from us… he's—"

"Skylar."

Hands landed on my shoulders, jarring me from my emotional and panicked state, and I looked to see Damien's steady gaze burning into mine. Conviction rolled through him as he told me firmly, "We will get them back. There's no other outcome possible. King won't allow it."

I looked at his hands on me and he abruptly stepped back. "Sorry, I was just—"

"I get it. It's fine."

He arched an eyebrow. "It is?"

"You helped me with tracking Jett. You pulled me out of that nightmare earlier. We're good."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." Not only because I was past the incident at the fight club years ago and the leak of that sex tape, but also because I didn't view him as a threat anymore. He'd continually proven himself an ally, casting off the shackles of enemy. Moreover, I was stronger and more skilled than before, I didn't doubt that my abilities now eclipsed his. He couldn't hurt me. Once I was healed anyway.

And then there was Bastian's stake in it.

I'd seen him struggling with the way things were between him and his brother. He wanted to rebuild their relationship, to forgive him, but he was also wary about doing so. I didn't think it was just coming from his own reservations either—Caspian was a major factor for him, the way he regarded Damien as irredeemable.

The thing was, after everything we'd all done, the lines we'd crossed, the atrocities we'd committed in the name of justice and protecting ourselves, I couldn't stand the idea of redemption being off the table when somebody was trying to mend their ways, to get back on track.

"Appreciate it, Bluebell," he said, flashing me a genuine smile.

I pushed off the railing. "I need to talk to Caspian."

"Last I saw, he was in the kitchen, yelling on the phone while scarfing down a Pop Tart. Guess that's passing for breakfast with all this shit going on right now."

"Does that shit include you being here?"

The corner of his mouth turned up. "Probably."

"He thinks you're a target too?"

He grinned. "Damn, you're good. Yeah, that's exactly it. On account of me being Seb's brother, and because of me playing Jett and all that."

I nodding, taking it in.

Then I turned to head downstairs.

I stopped when I noticed he wasn't following after me. "Aren't you coming?"

"Can't. One of the conditions of being here is keeping my distance from King."

Jeez. While I obviously understood where Caspian was coming from in regard to Damien, this kind of animosity right now really wasn't going to help things.

As I turned to go, Damien called out, "Seb is a fighter, Skylar. He always has been."

I smiled. "Thank you. For that and also for saving my ass back at that gas station."

He winked. "No worries."

With that, he headed back down the corridor and I made my way downstairs.

Frustratingly slowly.

Urgency was building with my every step, the need to get to Caspian and Caleb, to see them, to hold them, taking me over. The need to find out exactly where we were at regarding bringing Bastian back to us too.

I finally made it to the kitchen, hearing Caspian's raised voice in the distance.

I started and peered through to see him actually out on the patio, waving a half-eaten Pop Tart around wildly as he paced erratically while talking on the phone.

Actually, shouted was more like it.

I'd never seen him like this.

Irate, unpoised, volatile, pained.

I scanned the area, expecting Caleb to be nearby, to be the support that he always was for him. But he was nowhere in sight.

Maybe he was working another angle trying to bring Bastian back, employing his infamous hacking skills.

As I walked into the kitchen, Caspian's words became more discernible.

"That's not good enough! That intersect point puts us at five-hundred square miles to search. It'll take days upon days! Send four teams out ASAP. Luke, I'm well aware that it's a strain on my resources with everything else going on, but it needs to be done." He tugged at his hair. "How far are we into investigating the mole situation? Fuck, only thirty percent of my workforce? I know there are thousands in my employ." He sucked in a breath, clearly fighting to calm himself. "All right, continue. I'll explore other avenues. Yes, I'll let you know if I need to cross any lines."

He hung up, then stuffed his phone into the back pocket of his dress pants, before slamming his hands to the patio railing and hanging his head. I'd even seen his muscles beneath his open white dress shirt straining with tension. He tightened his hold on the railing to a white-knuckle grip.

"Caspian," I spoke softly, staggering out onto the patio.

He spun around, worry all over him as he took me in. "Why are you out of bed? You need to rest."

"I feel okay. It doesn't hurt much. It's just a little awkward walking around."

"It will hurt soon if that IV isn't put back in."

As he went to wrap his arm around me, no doubt to lead me back upstairs, I stepped back. "I need to be a part of this, Caspian. I have to be."

He ground his jaw. "And I need you resting and recovering."

"Damien confirmed that Bastian was taken, that he's still out there. I can't just sit back knowing that, knowing he's in danger and hell knows what else." My voice cracked. "Knowing he's not here."

With my determination to state my case, to ensure he shared the load here when he clearly needed to more than ever, if I could just get him to see past his concern for me, I hadn't been taking him in properly now that he was up close and facing me.

My breath caught in my throat the moment I noticed his pendant.

More specifically, that his wasn't the only one around his neck.

"Oh my God," I choked, stepping up to him and easing the other one out from behind his purple gem one. The red gem set into the other heart beneath his glinted back at me.

"How did you… how did you get Caleb's necklace?"

Emotion swam in his eyes, his voice thick with it as he gave me the answer that had already crossed my mind when I'd laid eyes on it, "He was taken too that same night."

"No," I choked, shaking my head vehemently. "No. No. No. No."

His arms were around me in the next moment, enveloping me tightly.

I couldn't stop it then.

The proverbial dam burst and so much pain and grief broke through, and I was sobbing into his chest.

"We'll get them back," he said, his voice breaking.

I looked up to see tears glistening in his eyes.

And something I'd never seen from Caspian King before, something I was sure nobody had.

Fear.

As soon as he saw me looking, he blinked it away, like it had never been.

Not wanting me to see.

Not wanting me to know that he was actually afraid of the outcome.

Afraid we wouldn't be able to bring them back to us.

I reached out and cupped his cheek. "You don't believe it, do you? You don't believe we'll actually get them back?"

"It's not that. I know we will. Even if I have to burn it all down to make it so."

"But that look… that fear there…"

He stroked my hand, his other still wrapped around me with a dual purpose of comfort and also supporting my weight in my injured state. "The fact you can read me like that, me of all people… fuck, it's rare, love."

"I'm glad I can now. I don't want you hurting all alone, I don't want you taking everything on and killing yourself when you have support here. In me. In our allies." I smiled, bittersweetly, "You're not alone. I'm here with you."

"I know. I know you are." He took a moment, squeezing his eyes shut, and I braced myself, seeing the utter struggle it was for him to put whatever was eating at him about this, beyond the obvious, out there… the root of that fear I'd seen from him. He drew in a breath, his hazel pools swimming with anguish as he told me, "If Elijah had wanted them dead, they would already be. He knows that would be the ultimate punishment to me for coming at him. That means he wants something from me. He's going to drag this out, he's going to push me until I break—for them. I've studied this enemy for years, long before I even began planning this war. I know him. And, as such, knowing what he's capable of, the depraved depths he's capable of sinking to. That fear you saw is about what he'll do to Caleb and Bastian, the fear that when I do liberate them from his clutches, they won't be the same… that they'll be in pieces. Pieces that can't be put back together."

Oh my God.