Page 93 of Breaking Isolde
After a minute, the noise stops. Footsteps echo down the hall—Rhett’s, fast and uneven. He bursts into the bathroom, face wild.
“Are you okay?” he says, checking me for wounds I don’t have.
“Fine,” I say, but I don’t sound fine. I sound like I’m about to puke.
He pulls me up, tucks me against his chest, and walks me out, apologizing that the bath will have to wait. Downstairs, the main room is back to its cold, tense normal. Caius stands by the wall of monitors, Slade at his side. The two militia guys are on the screens, walking the perimeter, rifles at the ready.
Ophelia is in the kitchen, pouring water into a mug. She looks up when she sees me, nods, then sets the mug on the counter.
Caius turns, hands folded behind his back. “The shots were a warning,” he says. “We get a few now and then. Kings trying their luck. We’re not in immediate danger, but we should be ready to move. They’ve been more frequent lately.”
Rhett’s grip tightens on my waist. “Where?”
“Pineridge,” Slade answers. “I have a place there. Noah has cabins and can set you all up until you decide if you want to stay permanently. But it’s safe. The Kings won’t venture on Noah’s land, it’s beyond their scope.”
Rhett glances at me, then back to Caius. “What about the Board?”
Caius smiles, thin and hard. “They’ll look for you if they figure out what you’ve done. They won’t if you figure out a fall guy. Either way, you’re not safe there. Not in the long term and neither is she.”
There’s a long silence.
Ophelia brings me the mug, sets it in my hands. “Drink,” she says, and I take a small sip. It’s sweet, herbal, the taste weird but comforting.
Caius moves to the fireplace, staring into the unlit grate. “You can come with us,” he says, not looking up. “Both of you. No questions, no strings.”
Rhett is about to say something—accept, maybe—but I cut him off.
“We need to go back,” I say.
The room goes silent.
Rhett looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Caius actually turns, eyes narrowed. “Why?” he asks.
I swallow. The words hurt, but I force them out. “Because running doesn’t stop a damn thing. If we want to end it, we have to cut the rot out from the inside.”
Caius laughs, a single harsh bark. “You think you can take the Board?”
“No,” I say, honest. “But I think I can make them bleed.”
He studies me, really studies me, like he’s seeing something new. “You’re insane,” he says, but there’s respect in it. “I like that.”
Rhett pulls me closer, his arm almost crushing my ribs. “You sure about this?” he whispers.
I look at him, then at Ophelia, then at the whole fucked-up tableau of monsters and survivors and misfit royalty.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sure.”
Rhett kisses my forehead, his breath shaky. “Alright, wildcat. Do or die, I’m with you until the end.”
Caius nods, satisfied. “You’ll need allies. Slade will get you what you need—money, new IDs, whatever. I’ll reach out to some friends. People who hate the Board more than you do.”
Slade grins, teeth sharp. “Consider it done.”
“Come, let’s make some plans.”
Rhett stares at me and Ophelia giggles. “Go with him, Rhett, she’s fine with me, trust me.”
He sighs, kisses me and trails after Caius. As they go, Rhett looks back at me, eyes full of worry and pride and something like love.
