Episode 20 GoldieLocked Away
Florence
We land in Bravonne on an overcast day that is still hot as the dickens and humid as hell.
I start sweating as soon as we step onto the tarmac at their private airfield.
The pack clusters around me, like they’re trying to keep me hidden from any paparazzi that might be lingering, as they usher me to one of the waiting cars.
There are three of them and a whole slew of guards dressed in black suits and I start to feel claustrophobic from the sheer number of eyes on me.
I’m bundled into the back of the middle car, one of those huge SUVs that has three rows of seats. Grieves slips behind the wheel. Piers settles next to him. Thayer and Forsythe take the back row and Court sits next to me in the middle.
We’ve been quiet for almost the entire flight, doing the dance of polite society. Them asking repeatedly if I need anything and me saying, ‘no, thank you’. The flight attendant had eyed me in a way that told me she knew exactly who I was and why I was there.
I suppose that’s inevitable.
I’ve avoided going online as much as I can, but I know my collapse at the reveal of my diagnosis on air has gone viral.
I know people view it as news. And I know the world is torn in half over it.
One side saying it’s another manipulation on my part like they saw on RoyaLove Getaway, and the other blaming the Ashbourne pack for not recognizing me.
I’m also aware that the statement made by the Ashbourne pack following my collapse, basically only states that they had no idea prior to the on air reveal that I was their mate, and that they are working on a way forward.
That was Jude’s CliffsNotes version of it. Apparently it had a lot more flowery and diplomatic language than that, but it’s essentially what it boils down to.
I suppose I can’t blame them for the lie.
I’m not sure I would want to admit to the world that I knew days before and didn’t do anything about it. I mean I actually knew for a month and didn’t tell them. I’m as much at fault as they are.
Court’s hand slides across the space between us, his pinky brushing against my thigh to get my attention. “How are you feeling, Pix?”
I shrug, turning to look back out the window at the buildings passing by. “Okay, I guess.”
“Tired?” Thayer asks from the back seat.
“No.” I shake my head. I knew we’d be arriving in the morning, so I’d done my best to sleep on the plane to combat jetlag.
“Hungry?” Grieves asks, while navigating the tight, busy streets with ease. “I could stop and grab you something if you want?”
I’m opening my mouth to decline when Forsythe cuts me off. “We don’t have time. There’ll be food at the flat for her to eat.”
His brisk tone stings. The same as the way he’s avoided looking at me ever since I told them I would come with them stings.
It feels like he got what he wanted, and now he doesn’t have to pay attention to me anymore, he doesn’t have to be kind or polite.
I’m here in Bravonne, close to his pack so I won’t get sicker. His duty to me is done.
“What do you have to rush off to?” Court asks, voice hard. “What’s so important we can’t take the time to feed our mate?”
“We will feed her, just not at a restaurant. I made sure the flat would have all the things she’ll need.”
I don’t miss the way he’s talking around me and not to me. It really does feel like he just can’t be bothered. Or maybe I’m feeling a little extra sensitive given the situation we find ourselves in.
I’m currently in the country where most of the people aren’t too keen on me. I’m with a pack that doesn’t really want me. And I left my family and best friends behind, my entire support system.
At least I have a return flight and this isn’t an open ended visit.
Jude and I booked a ticket for two weeks before Haven’s due date. I didn’t tell the Ashbourne pack about it. Don’t want to let them know they only have a few weeks to figure their shit out, to decide if they want to keep me, or if they want to keep Isadora.
I think they might be under the impression that I’ll stay for as long as they need me here, for as long as it takes, but I’m just… not capable of that.
Every moment spent with them is a danger to me, to my heart, to my health. The longer we’re together, the more painful the fallout when this all crumbles around us.
No. I needed an out and so I gave myself one.
Two weeks before Haven’s due date, I’m going back. I don’t want to risk missing the birth of her first child, my little niece, so I think that will give me plenty of leeway.
And I need to focus on that. Focus that there is an end to this.
Because once I return to the US, I’m not sure I’ll be coming back to Bravonne.
They just don’t know it.
I’ll have to tell them at some point. Or at the very least Piers.
I’m not leaving her.
That’s what he’d said, what he’d all but promised. He made his choice and the choice at the time was me. But that might change, he might decide he wants to stay with his pack, and I have to be ready for that too.
I might very well return home even more broken than the last time.
But I’ll survive it. I always do.
Like he can feel my eyes on him, the beta twists his head to catch my gaze. A small smile already on his lips, the shadow of his dimple just starting. But it fades when he sees my expression.
Okay? he mouths at me.
I answer as honestly as I can with a shrug.
He runs worried eyes over me, searching for answers, for more.
But I just don’t have anything more to give.
I turn my attention away from him, leaning my forehead against the window and watching the buildings pass by.
Old ones, ones with history. We don’t have buildings like this on the west coast of the US.
If I was a tourist, someone here for a vacation I’d probably be oohing and ahhing over them, snapping pictures as we pass by.
I let myself sink into the fantasy of it, of what it might have been like if my knee wasn’t shattered by Frederick Bell, if I’d accepted the invitation to dance for the Royal Ballet for a season, and I arrived in Bravonne as a bright eyed, eager dancer.
I would have been excited, jittery with nerves, but hopeful for the future, for my future.
Knowing what I know now, that the Ashbourne pack are my fated mates, we probably would have met when they came to a show, with Isadora on their arm. Would it have made a difference? If we’d met a year ago? Under those circumstances? Would they have felt more secure in choosing me?
Or would we end up exactly where we are now? Driving through the streets in a vehicle with blacked out windows to hide who’s inside. Headed not toward the palace, but an apartment a few blocks away, where they think the queen won’t know I’m there.
A secret. Something to hide. To be ashamed of.
I take a deep inhale in through my nose, trying to breathe through the hurt.
If I’m honest I wouldn’t want to stay at the palace anyway. The thought of being in the same room as the Queen of Bravonne is enough to make my hair stand on end. I’m not ashamed to admit that she terrifies me.
So this is probably better, overall. But… I would have liked to meet Elizabeth and her pack. I just don’t think that’s going to happen.
Forsythe isn’t ready for that. He might never be.
My stomach growls and Grieves does too. “We should stop.”
“We’re almost there,” Forsythe sighs, before he reaches forward, to squeeze my shoulder in a way that I think is meant to be reassuring, but just kind of comes off as controlling, as if he can suppress my hunger by his will alone.
I shrug off the touch. “I’m fine.”
He sighs, but I don’t turn to look at him.
The prince has been even more distant than normal ever since we got on the plane.
Taking the seat farthest from me, pulling out a laptop and industriously clicking away for the entirety of the flight.
I’m pretty sure he didn’t look at me once. He certainly didn’t say anything to me.
The black car in front of us peels off and continues down the street, while we turn into an underground parking garage. Grieves drives to the far end, stopping right next to the elevator bank, not pulling into a parking space before he shuts off the car.
No one moves for one long moment, like they’re all waiting to see if someone is going to pop out from between the parked vehicles and start shooting or something.
When Grieves finally gives a slow nod, and the rest of the pack reaches for their door handles, I realize it must be something like that.
“Wait,” Forsythe growls when I reach to push open my own door. “Wait for them to give the all clear.”
Grieves, Piers and Court climb out first, congregating on the side of the car closest to the elevator, scanning the area like they’re still looking for threats.
My brow furrows, not understanding why it’s okay for them to put themselves at risk, while the rest of us sit safely behind what I assume is bullet proof glass.
They all tense for a moment, then relax as four men dressed in black suits come into view.
There’s a brief exchange of words, and then the three Ashbourne pack members turn back toward our car. Court pulls open my door and holds out his hand to help me out. I take it even though I’m perfectly capable of getting out of the car all on my own.
“These are the men that are in charge of your safety,” Grieves says, as I come to a stop next to him. He points at each of them and says their names, but I’m having a hard time focusing, so they go right over my head. I’ll ask Piers to remind me later.
The security men nod at me. “Ma’am,” one of them says, all serious and straight-faced, with a nod in my direction.
I flash him an uncertain smile and try like hell to look like someone who deserved this level of protection, but I feel about as deserving as a dirty dish rag.
Forsythe’s brows wrinkle as he looks at me, like he’s trying to figure out what I need. But I’ve already told him, he just won’t give it to me.