Chapter Twenty-Two
T he house is still, the night wrapped in the kind of deep quiet that makes you forget the outside world exists. I’m half-asleep, wrapped back into my T-shirt and curled into Rob’s side, feeling his slow, steady breaths. Everything feels peaceful for the first time in so long.
Then— BANG .
The noise rips through the silence like an atom bomb, jolting me upright in bed. My heart leaps into my throat as I look around wildly, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Rob is already moving, springing out of bed like he’s been waiting for this. He yanks on his jeans and wheels on me.
“Stay here,” he orders, his voice low but firm.
I should. I know I should. But I don’t. I scramble out of bed, ignoring the shaking in my limbs, and follow him. By the time I reach the hallway, Rob is already halfway down the stairs. I cross the second-floor landing in a rush and nearly run straight into Tuck and Will.
Tuck’s in sweats and a faded T-shirt, rubbing his eyes like he’s just woken up. Will, on the other hand, is bare-chested, in nothing but silk pajama pants, his expression sharp and alert.
“What the hell’s going on?” Tuck demands, his voice a mix of confusion and irritation.
“I don’t know,” I stammer, my heart racing faster now. I don’t know what’s happening, but I can feel the dread sinking in deep. Something’s wrong.
Together, the three of us hurry down the stairs after Rob. The house feels too quiet, the walls too close, and when we reach the front hall, I freeze. The glow from outside is unmistakable—the flashing red and blue lights cutting through the darkness, the shadows of figures moving beyond the door.
Sheriff’s vehicles. Dozens of them, lining up in front of the , deputies with guns drawn.
It’s a siege.
And standing in front of them all is Guy Gisbourne.
“Robin Locksley,” Guy says, his voice clear and cold as he lifts a piece of paper high in the air. “I have a warrant for your arrest.”
A deputy steps forward and grabs Rob, snapping handcuffs around his wrists with a cold, metallic click. My breath catches, and the world seems to tilt around me as Guy Gisbourne begins to read the charges, his voice dripping with authority.
“Robin Locksley, you are under arrest for kidnapping, conspiracy to defraud the county of Sherwood, racketeering, grand theft—”
“No!” The word tears from my throat before I can stop it. I lunge forward, desperate to do something, anything, but Rob’s sharp voice cuts through the chaos.
“Maren, stay back .”
At the same moment, Guy’s hand lands on my shoulder—not rough, but firm, a clear signal to stop. His fingers press just enough to hold me in place, and I freeze, my pulse hammering in my ears.
I lock eyes with Rob, searching for some sign that this isn’t as bad as it looks. He forces a grin, the kind of cocky, careless expression that’s supposed to reassure me. “Don’t worry, Maren. These boys have nothing on me. It’s all just a misunderstanding.”
But I can see the fear in his eyes. It’s there, flickering just beneath the surface. He’s trying to keep it hidden, but I know him too well. You’re literally in fucking handcuffs, Rob.
Wait. My mind flashes to when I first got back here, to Will and Rob and the leather around his wrists.
Why doesn’t he shift? The thought slams into me like a punch. Why doesn’t he just turn into a goddamn fox and run? He’s not hurt, right? He could be gone in a heartbeat, faster than any of them could react.
But before I can do or think or say anything more, I feel a tug on my arm, pulling me back from the scene. I turn, and it’s LJ, his face set in determination as he drags me toward Tuck and Will, who are standing in a stunned silence. Zayn has appeared now too, his face grim and unreadable as he watches everything unfold.
“They’ll shoot,” LJ mutters, his grip steady but not harsh. “Stay back.”
I don’t want to. Everything in me is screaming to do something, to stop this, to fight back. But I let him pull me into the safety of the group.
Will’s face flushes red as he rounds on Zayn, his voice a low growl. “This is your fault, isn’t it? You brought them here!”
Zayn’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head furiously. “Are you for real? You think I’d sell him out?” His voice cracks with disbelief and desperation. “I owe Rob everything, man. It wasn’t me.”
“Indeed, it wasn’t Deputy Rashad.” A few steps away, Guy’s cold voice sparkles with amusement. But it isn’t funny.
I spin toward him, my heart pounding. “Then how did you find him?”
“How? Oh, it wasn’t hard.” He smiles, his handsome features turned grotesque in the harsh light of the cruisers and the shadows of the night. “Suddenly, we noticed a whole slew of delinquent property tax bills being paid off in full, in cash. Curious development in a town where people are scraping by.”
I feel the blood drain from my face as his words sink in, but he’s not done. “And then,” he continues, “Sherwood National Bank flagged an account for a series of large cash withdrawals. Big enough to get the attention of the Feds.”
My mind races. The bank. My stomach twists. “But... it shouldn’t have been over that,” I stammer. “Not in a single transaction.”
Guy turns toward me with a condescending smile, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Ah, but Maren, trying to avoid that limit? That’s a crime all its own. Structuring.”
Shame floods through me.
“You really think cruising just under the limit isn’t equally suspicious?” He laughs. “Sweet.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. My heart sinks as the weight of it settles in. It’s my fault. My plan to help the people of Sherwood, to redistribute my inheritance quietly and without a fuss—it’s what led them here. I’ve brought Guy and the sheriff’s men straight to our doorstep.
Tears sting my eyes as I look for Rob, but all I can see is Guy. His smirk deepens, that sick, eerie satisfaction glowing in his eyes as he steps closer to me. “But don’t worry, Maren,” he continues, his voice smooth and venomous. “We know you’d never willingly be part of such a crime. No, you were kidnapped, trafficked, and brainwashed. Forced to do this... forced by him.” He tilts his head toward Rob, who stands rigid, flanked by deputies.
I want to scream, but the shock holds my throat tight.
“We’ll be seizing the house, of course,” Guy continues, savoring every word. “It’s all tied to the investigation now.”
Behind him, deputies are unrolling yellow tape, flooding into doors with rams and walkie talkies and flashlights glaring.
“And mark my words, as soon as we find what we know is in there...” Guy exhales. “They’ll pay.”
Darkness. That’s it. The darkness I saw before in him, that cruel, obsessive need to destroy anything he sees as a threat. It was there when he found me in his library, and it’s here now, burning in his eyes like a twisted hunger.
I swallow hard, feeling my hands shake with anger. “I can’t believe I ever even thought of trusting you.”
Guy smiles wider, that perfect, rehearsed politician’s grin that hides the rot underneath. “I’m the good guy, Maren. You’ll understand that in time. You’ll see that—”
“Over there!” one of the deputies yells.
I whip around just in time to see a flash of red-brown fur darting toward the tree line— Rob . My heart leaps into my throat as I realize he’s shifted, slipping free from the handcuffs in his fox form. He’s running for the woods, fast, nimble, his tail a blur behind him.
For a split second, hope surges in my chest— maybe he’ll make it .
But then Guy moves. He’s faster than I’ve ever seen him, lunging toward a nearby deputy’s belt, ripping the gun from its holster.
Everything happens too quickly. I barely have time to scream before—
BANG
A yelp cuts through the air. Then silence.
I see Rob collapse, tumbling to the ground in a heap of fur before the shift overtakes him again. His human form reappears, writhing in pain, clutching his side where blood seeps between his fingers. He’s hurt—but not mortally. Relief mingles with the terror clawing at my insides.
“Run!” He gasps, his voice thick with pain, but urgent. “Get out of here!”
I freeze. The world around me blurs, my body rooted in place. I can’t breathe, can’t think— Rob —
“Maren!” LJ’s voice jolts me back to reality, his grip tight on my arm. “Rob says run. We have to run.”
Tears blur my vision, hot and unrelenting as they stream down my face. I look back at Rob one last time, just as the deputies yank him to his feet, dragging him toward their cars. His face twists in agony, but his eyes find mine, full of fierce determination. Go, those eyes say. Live.
With a choked sob, I wrench myself away, turning on my heel.
And then we run—me, LJ, Will, Tuck, Zayn—tearing across the open lawn, faster than I’ve ever run in my life. Behind us, the flashing lights of the sheriff’s cars fade, the house disappears, all of it swallowed by the trees.
All of it—the mansion, the cars, the home I’d just gotten back to—gone.
And nothing before us but dark, dark forest.