Chapter 19
The Archer
Dylan
The humid air hit his sweat-damp skin like a slap. He was still catching his breath, the sharp edges of reality rushing in all at once.
Then he saw it.
Ali’s clutch.
It lay on the concrete like a forgotten piece of something sacred, small and glittering under the floodlight. He bent to pick it up, fingers shaking.
From the sheer panic rising in his chest.
She was gone.
“Mac!”
He turned as Kallie came around the corner, her white red-bottom tennis shoes shining. She looked polished, every hair in place, perfectly composed in a Tritons-branded cocktail dress. Until she got close enough to see his face.
“You okay?” she asked, scanning him quickly. Then her eyes dropped to the clutch in his hand. She stopped cold.
Kallie had known him long enough to recognize when something wasn’t just a moment.
Her eyes softened. “She was here?”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t have to.
Kallie’s brows drew in, and something passed between them— a silent understanding. She stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on his arm.
“You’re supposed to be back inside,” she said quietly. “Your photo op with the winners and the Chancellor—”
“That’s not happening,” Dylan said, voice gravel.
She glanced at the clutch again. “I figured.”
Then she straightened, gave him a quick nod. “Go. I’ll handle it. I’ll say you got pulled away on a player emergency call or something.”
He looked at her, grateful and tense all at once.
“She ran, Kay.”
“Then run after her,” she said. “Before she decides not to let you find her again.”
He didn’t waste another second. Didn’t stop to think. He took off down the side of the building, cutting through the staff entrance and around the back lot, scanning every shadow, every exit.
“Ali,” he called out— quiet but urgent.
Nothing.
The sound hit him before anything else. A soft, shaky gasp. Then another. Faint, like someone trying not to cry but losing the battle.
He froze. Turned toward it.
The lot was still full, cars glinting under low security lights. He moved slowly at first, heart thudding. Then he heard it again— a choked, muffled sob— and took off in that direction, rounding the corner of a dark green SUV parked near the edge of the lot.
There she was.
Curled in on herself behind the back tire. Knees pulled to her chest. Head buried. Her shoulders shook with each uneven breath as she tried— and failed— to keep the panic at bay.
Dylan’s heart cracked clean open. Fuck, what had he done?
He crouched down fast but careful, keeping his voice low and steady. “Ali.”
Her head snapped up, eyes wide and wet, her lips parted as if she couldn’t decide whether to speak or just break apart.
“I’ve got you,” he said, voice shaking. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”
She shook her head. Her hands trembled where they gripped her shins. She couldn’t catch her breath.
He sat all the way down on the pavement beside her, not touching yet. Just being there. Being solid.
“You’re safe,” he said. “I’m right here. You’re not alone.”
She drew in a sharp, panicked breath— and he could see her fighting to stay in control, to keep the wave from cresting.
“Breathe with me,” he whispered, drawing a slow inhale through his nose. “In… then out. Just like that. Come on, baby. In…”
Her chest hitched, but she tried. She followed him through one breath. Then another.
Then she broke.
A sob ripped out of her and she lurched forward— straight into his arms.
Dylan held her tight, wrapping himself around her like a shield. He could feel her falling apart against his chest, and all he could do was hold on.
“You’re okay,” he whispered, again and again. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
And, to his amazement, she didn’t pull away.