11 An Ashthorne Christmas #2
Brenda is telling a story about burning an entire batch of Christmas cookies when she was Maeve’s age, and everyone laughs, even Lucian.
Adrienne and Dakota went to her parents house for dinner.
But my chest feels full as I look around the table—at Jace leaning back with his drink, Luca gesturing wildly as he argues with Noah about the best Christmas movie, Maeve rolling her eyes but smiling.
And then my phone vibrates against the polished wood beside my plate.
Once. Twice.
I glance down.
Blocked Number.
My stomach drops.
When I look up, Lucian’s already watching me. He sets down his glass, his expression shifting from amused to concerned in a heartbeat. I tilt the phone so he can see the screen. His eyes narrow. A pause. Then a single nod.
I swipe to accept and bring it to my ear. “Hello.”
For a beat, all I hear is ragged breathing.
“I-Isobel?”
My heart stutters. “Mom?”
Her voice is broken, frantic, almost swallowed by the sound of her sobs. “Baby, I—I need you to come get me. Please. I’m scared. I’m so scared.”
The dining room fades—the clinking silverware, the low murmur of voices, even the warm glow of the candles. All I can hear is her voice. All I can feel is the sharp, cold hook pulling me back into a place I thought I’d left behind.
“Where are you?” My voice is tight, urgent.
But she just cries harder.
I push my chair back, the legs scraping softly against the polished floor. Lucian is already half-standing, his eyes locked on me like he’s reading every flicker of panic on my face.
“Mom,” I say again, gripping the phone. “Tell me where you are.”
She sniffs hard, her voice breaking between words. “I can’t—he’s—he’ll hear me. Just…please, Isobel. You have to come. Please.”
Lucian moves around the table without a word, his hand coming to rest lightly on my shoulder. “Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s take this somewhere private.”
I let him guide me toward the hall, my pulse roaring in my ears. Behind us, the laughter and conversation have stopped. The scrape of chairs follows.
“Isobel?” Jace’s voice is quiet, careful.
I glance over my shoulder—Jace, Luca, Noah, and Maeve are all watching, their expressions tense. Maeve’s brows are drawn tight, her cocoa-brown eyes flicking between me and Lucian like she’s ready to stand up and follow.
Lucian gives them a sharp look that says stay put. “We’ll handle it.”
We step into the shadowed hall just outside the dining room, the low light spilling from the sconces painting everything in soft gold. “Mom,” I press again, switching the phone to speaker, my voice trembling despite my best effort. “Where are you right now?”
There’s silence on the other end, except for the sound of her breathing—shallow, panicked. Then, so faint I almost miss it:
“I don’t know if I can get out.”
The line goes dead.
My stomach knots. Lucian catches my eye, his expression unreadable but full with calculation, already working through whatever move comes next.
I just stand there for a moment, staring at the black screen like if I wait long enough, it’ll light back up. I step back into the dining room, bumping into Maeve. They all crowd the doorway.
Clearly listening.
Maeve’s the first to speak, stepping forward until she’s right beside me. “Iz…” Her hand comes to my arm. “We’ll figure this out. If she’s in trouble, we’ll get her out.”
Jace’s voice cuts in, laced with the kind of suspicion he doesn’t bother to hide. “Or she’s playing you.” His arms are crossed, his tone clipped. “You’ve gotta admit, the timing’s a little convenient.”
I turn to look at him, my chest tight. “You didn’t hear her, Jace. She was scared.”
“I’m not saying she wasn’t scared,” he says evenly, “but scared doesn’t mean she’s telling you everything. Or the truth.”
Maeve shoots him a glare. “Now’s not the time to—”
“It’s exactly the time,” Jace interrupts, eyes flicking between Lucian and me. “If we go running after her without knowing what’s actually happening, we could be walking straight into a trap. Why now? After all this time?”
Noah moves closer, his hands shoved in his pockets, his gaze never leaving mine. His voice is quieter than Jace’s, but there’s no mistaking the caution in it. “He’s not wrong. But…” His expression softens just slightly. “There’s a chance it’s real, and we can’t ignore it, either.”
Lucian hasn’t said a word yet. He’s standing a few feet back. When I finally look his way, he meets my gaze. I can’t tell if he’s already decided what we’re going to do—or if he’s still weighing whether this is a call we even answer.
When he finally moves, we all follow. He steps into the living room. He doesn’t look at anyone else. Just me.
“Sit,” he says, and it’s not a request.
I sit on the couch. The others follow suit without argument, scattering around the room—Maeve on the couch beside me, Jace leaning against the wall near the fireplace, Luca and Noah taking the other chairs.
Lucian stands in front of the coffee table, hands clasped behind his back.
“You all heard enough to understand the problem,” he says, voice low but carrying. “We have an unverified distress call from someone with a documented history of manipulation and ties to our enemy. The likelihood of this being a trap is… high.”
Jace nods, vindicated. “Exactly my point.”
Maeve leans forward, her jaw tight. “And what if it’s not? What if she really does need help? You’re just going to leave her?”
Lucian’s gaze flicks to her. “I didn't say that. I’m just saying we must proceed with caution.”
Luca shifts in his seat. “How do we even know where she is?”
Lucian studies him for a long moment, then turns his eyes back to me. “Do you trust her?”
My mouth opens… then closes again.
“I…” I take a breath. “I trust the part of her that raised me. The part that read me stories and taught me how to braid my hair. But the rest… I don’t know anymore.”
Silence stretches.
Lucian finally nods once. “Then here’s what will happen.
We will investigate discreetly. We’ll check out places Daniel has been for any clues.
We’ll start with your old house. No contact with her until I say otherwise.
If this is legitimate, we’ll act. If it’s not…
” His tone hardens. “We’ll ensure she can’t put you in this position again. ”
The weight of his words settles over me like frost.
Jace leans back, seemingly satisfied. Maeve squeezes my hand. Luca meets my eyes and gives the smallest nod, like he’s promising he’ll be there no matter which way this turns.
“Just one question,” Noah looks around us like it should be obvious, “how did she get your new number?”