Chapter 30 - Felix #2
“Though it sounds like you don’t need any, what with Priya saying Flynn found camera footage—”
“I don’t have a plan!” I blurted out.
Rory blinked. “What?”
“I don’t have a plan for when we get there, so we need to come up with one. Right now.”
Rory stared at me for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly.
“Okay. Don’t worry. Plans are my specialty.”
“Burn the whole place down.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“That’s the plan. We take them down once and for all.”
I could have cried. My earlier relief at having a partner in crime was quickly fading. Something told me this might be harder with Rory than going solo.
We stood outside a ski equipment shop in Zurich airport, arms loaded with overpriced thermal gear that had further emptied our rather pitiful bank accounts.
The fluorescent lighting made everything feel surreal—like we were actors in some budget action film, except with significantly less competence.
Rory clutched a steaming coffee cup, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “This isn’t anywhere near Fat Cat’s quality. I’m gutted we left Freddy behind. He better not go to the cafe without me again.”
“Focus. We’ve got bigger problems. We’re actually here now.
” I stepped outside the airport, immediately hit by the crisp mountain air that made my lungs rejoice.
The Alps loomed in the distance, snow-capped peaks that looked beautiful and utterly impossible to navigate.
Kit was somewhere far out there. In those mountains.
We both paused for a moment, taking in the enormity of what we were attempting.
Then Rory announced, with the confidence of someone who definitely hadn’t thought this through, “Right. First step—rental car.”
I blinked. “One that will drive up mountains?”
“One that’ll get us halfway up, at least.”
“Rory.” I swallowed hard. “I can’t drive.”
He winked at me. “Luckily, I can.”
“So I’ve heard.”
We followed the signs for car rental—helpfully decorated with a picture of a car—whilst my mind spun.
Would we even make it out of the city with Rory behind the wheel?
He’d have to drive on the opposite side of the road from England.
We’d either die in a spectacular crash or spend the next few days in a Swiss prison.
I couldn’t wait for my one phone call to be Seb.
Inside the rental office, two touch screens displayed an endless parade of vehicles. Rory immediately gravitated towards the largest options, swiping through SUVs with the enthusiasm of a child in a sweet shop.
“We need the biggest and baddest baby to get us there,” he declared, tapping a massive black Range Rover.
The man behind the counter looked less than convinced, his eyes darting between the pair of us—two scruffy Brits in brand-new ski gear, one bouncing on his toes with manic energy, the other clutching a houseplant like a security blanket.
“Would you like to purchase enhanced insurance?” he asked in perfect English.
“Definitely,” I said before Rory could object.
The price appeared on the counter screen. I choked on my own spit.
“It’s okay,” Rory whispered, leaning close. “I’ve got Theo’s credit card.”
“Brilliant,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s just brilliant.”
Ten minutes later, we were the proud temporary owners of a pristine black Range Rover, driving out of the car park.
Rory only stalled three times getting onto the main road.
I plugged some coordinates into the sat nav, directing us towards the Autobahn that would at least head us in roughly the right direction of the Grisons mountains.
The engine roared as Rory pressed the accelerator with perhaps too much enthusiasm. My knuckles went white where I gripped the door handle.
“Rory,” I said carefully, “maybe you should—”
A horn blared as a lorry swerved around us.
I closed my eyes. It was no good. This was how I’d die—not heroically rescuing the man I was falling in love with from a shadowy classified military programme, but in a mangled heap of metal on a Swiss motorway because Rory Thorne couldn’t work out which pedal was which.
Once Rory found his rhythm on the long, straight Autobahn, his driving improved marginally. Possibly the constant gear changes and roundabouts had been his downfall—now he could focus on the simple task of pointing the massive SUV in one direction and keeping it there.
“So, it says here that some of the roads on this route are closed over the winter,” I told him, squinting at my tablet where I’d been studying our journey through increasingly remote mountain passes.
“How closed?” Rory asked, tapping the steering wheel to some rhythm only he could hear.
“Um… probably quite closed?”
“It’s fine. That bloke at the rental desk said there are snow chains in the boot. We’ll pull over and put them on when we get to them.”
I sank back into my seat, wishing I had Rory’s sunny optimism. All I could picture was the pair of us flying off a mountain road in this Range Rover, Princess the houseplant being the only witness to our spectacular demise.
“Theo knew about you two, by the way.”
“What?”
“About you and Kit. He’s a telepath. So he heard all your dirty thoughts.”
“Oh. Right.” I shifted uncomfortably. “He never said anything until the other day.”
“Of course he didn’t. He didn’t tell me either, the traitor.”
I managed a weak laugh. “Stealing his credit card was probably too far on the revenge front.”
“I didn’t steal his card,” Rory protested, glancing at me with wounded pride. “He gave me my very own copy, connected to his account. For emergencies.”
“That’s… brave of him.”
Rory glowered at me. “He trusts me.”
I looked around the luxury interior of our hired tank, mentally calculating the growing damage to Theo’s bank balance. I could only pray his banking app wasn’t one that popped up with a notification every time there was a spend.
We’d both switched our phones to airplane mode hours ago, though I still had Wi-Fi and data through the encrypted connection I’d set up via satellite.
“So… is that plant for Kit?” Rory asked.
I tensed, though there wasn’t a trace of mockery in his voice. The small pot sat wedged between my feet on the SUV floor, its delicate pink-speckled leaves trembling with every bump in the road.
I sighed heavily. Was it really so weird to carry a plant across the globe? “Yes.”
“Could it not have waited at home for him?”
Groaning, I pressed my forehead against the cool window. “I bought it to give to him Thursday morning. When we were meant to meet under the lime tree.” Then I mumbled, “I was going to tell him I wanted to be his mate. Like, properly. For real.”
The car swerved violently as Rory’s hands jerked on the wheel. “Seriously?!”
“Eyes on the road!”
“Sorry, sorry.” He straightened us out, an enormous grin brightening his face. “Kit definitely didn’t need a plant to bribe him into accepting that offer, you know.”
My cheeks burned. “What’s it like?” I blurted out. “Having a mate?”
Rory went quiet for a moment, his usual energy settling into something soft.
When he finally spoke, his voice had a weight to it.
“Honestly? It’s pure magic. It’s like… finding the other half of your soul, even though you never knew it was half missing.
It sounds so cringe, but Theo is my world, my everything, my—” He rubbed his chest absently, over his heart.
“Well, you’ll see for yourself, soon enough. Once we get him back.”
That last bit was said with such fierce determination that I almost believed we’d actually manage this insane rescue mission.
“You’re so lucky to have Kit,” Rory continued.
“He’s the best person I know. When we were kids, I only survived because of him.
He was super popular at school, the bastard, but I wasn’t.
Got bullied a lot. Not just the usual crap, but physical stuff too.
I was… small. With a big mouth. So you can imagine the trouble I got into.
But Kit swept in every time to save me.”
I watched the mountains grow larger on the horizon. “Then things became… distant between you two, right? Because of your father?”
Rory’s face split into a frown. “Yeah. All our Da’s fault.
I don’t blame Kit at all, even though he’s convinced he still needs to make it up to me.
Ever since he gave me a home in London, it’s like he’s been trying to earn my forgiveness, but he’s never needed to.
He’s the strongest, most loyal person I’ve ever met. So you’re bloody lucky to have him.”
“I know how lucky I am,” I said quietly.
I stared out the window for a moment before forcing myself to turn to him.
“For two years, Kit barely spoke to me, to the point sometimes I thought he must not like me. Then everything changed and suddenly we’re together, and I’m discovering what it feels like to be completely, utterly in…
in love with someone for the first time.
” I swallowed hard. “I can’t lose him now, Rory.
Not when I’ve only just found him. Kit chose me, and I’m going to prove that was the right choice. ”
Rory shot me a lopsided grin. “Sounds like Kit’s lucky too, I suppose.”
I hoped he was right. Kit deserved someone who would fight for him the way he fought for everyone else. He deserved someone who would love him fiercely and follow him anywhere—even into whatever hell had swallowed him whole.
“You should sleep,” Rory said, glancing over at me as we merged onto a quieter stretch of motorway. “One of us may as well be rested for whatever we’re walking into.”
My eyes felt like they had grit behind the lids. The hour’s nap on the plane had barely touched the exhaustion weighing me down.
“Wake me if you need anything,” I mumbled, letting my head fall back against the headrest.
The gentle rumble of the engine and Rory’s surprisingly steady driving eventually lulled me into unconsciousness.
When I opened my eyes, the world had transformed.
We were driving through a postcard. Snow-capped peaks towered on either side of us, their jagged edges cutting into a grey sky.
The mountains seemed impossibly vast, ancient guardians draped in pristine white that caught the afternoon light and threw it back in brilliant sparkles.
Pine forests clung to the lower slopes, dark green against the snow, whilst higher up the peaks disappeared into wisps of cloud.
I’d seen mountains before, of course—climbing the rugged slopes near Seoul had been a weekend ritual when we visited our extended family.
But nothing could have prepared me for this.
The Swiss Alps were a different beast entirely, a spectacle that felt like stepping into a dream.
In Korea, the mountains felt familiar, more like old friends.
Here, they stood as formidable giants, inviting and yet intimidating in their grandeur.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Rory said, noticing I was awake. “Been like this for the past hour. Roads are much quieter up here too.”
He was right. We hadn’t passed another vehicle. The motorway had given way to smaller roads that wound between valleys, following the natural curves of the landscape. Everything felt hushed, muffled by the snow.
Then we rounded a bend and found our first obstacle.
Orange and white striped barriers stretched across the road, along with several warning signs covered in German text and alarming pictographs showing cars sliding off cliffs.
“Right,” Rory said cheerfully, pulling over. “Snow chains time.”
We both stared up at the sky. It was past two in the afternoon—we hadn’t left the airport car park until after eleven, what with all the faff of buying gear and the car rental desk. The winter sun was already beginning its descent towards the peaks.
Snowflakes had started drifting down whilst I slept, and now they came even faster, coating the windscreen.
Rory pressed the button to pop the boot. “How hard can this be?”
The answer, it turned out, was extremely hard.
The instruction manual was entirely in German, featuring incomprehensible diagrams that seemed to show a car being embraced by what looked like medieval torture devices.
I ended up googling “how to put on snow chains for dummies” on my phone, crouched beside the massive tyres whilst snow collected on my shoulders.
Forty-five minutes later, after a spectacular amount of creative swearing from both of us, we had something that vaguely resembled chains attached to our tyres. Rory’s hands had gone completely numb, and I felt utterly useless—every time I tried to help, I seemed to make things worse.
“There,” Rory announced, wiping his red nose with the back of his sleeve. “That will do.”
We dragged the road barriers aside just enough for the Range Rover to squeeze through, then set off again at a much more cautious pace as the sun continued its relentless march towards the horizon.
We raced against the rapidly approaching darkness, the roads growing narrower as the snow thickened around us.
The warmth inside the car felt increasingly precious as the landscape outside grew more hostile.
Soon we’d be on foot. In the cold. In the dark.
The Range Rover’s tyres spun, found purchase, spun again. Soon, we were crawling, the chains clanking against the wheel wells with every rotation.
Then we weren’t moving at all.
Rory revved the engine hopefully. The tyres whined against the snow, but the car stayed exactly where it was, nose deep in a drift that had appeared around a bend.
“Well,” Rory said brightly, though I caught the quiver of fear beneath his cheerful tone. “I wanted to park here anyway!”
I could easily have cried. We were still miles away. I peered through the windscreen at the wall of white ahead of us, then at the rapidly darkening sky above. The snow was falling harder now, thick flakes that stuck to everything they touched.
“We’d better get going,” I whispered.
We climbed out into the biting cold and retrieved our gear from the boot. I opened the passenger door and crouched down beside Princess, still wedged safely on the car floor.
“See you soon,” I told the little plant, though the words caught in my throat. The mountain silence pressed against us, broken only by the whisper of falling snow.
Rory was waiting, his pack already secured, that determined glint in his eyes that meant he’d walk through hell itself to get Kit back.
The thing was, we might actually have to.
I shouldered my pack and followed him into the white, leaving the last trace of civilization behind. Somewhere ahead in this frozen wilderness, Kit was waiting.
If he was still alive to wait at all.