As they headed for the door, Ryder caught my eye, his expression a mirror of my own conflicted emotions, pride at her courage, fear for her fragility, and the ever-present rage simmering just below the surface.
"We've got this," I murmured to him as we followed the girls downstairs. "One day at a time." He nodded, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes constantly scanned for threats. We were all on high alert, had been since the moment we found Cade in that cell. The fear that Damien might still be watching, might still be planning, hung over us like a storm cloud.
At the bottom of the stairs, Rosa was waiting, a paper bag in her hands.
"Lunch," she said simply, pressing it into Cade's hands. "Eat all of it, no excuses. You're still too thin." Cade accepted the bag with a grateful nod.
"I'll try, Rosa."
"Not try. Do," Rosa insisted, before turning her stern gaze on Ryder and me. "And you two. Take care of her. Bring her home if she gets tired."
"Yes, ma'am," Ryder replied, the faintest hint of a smile touching his lips. Rosa was the only person besides Cade who could give him orders without triggering his defiance.
As we gathered our things, bags, keys, the subtle panic button, and GPS locator we'd had made for Cade that looked like an ordinary bracelet, I found myself running through mental checklists. Had we covered all the bases? Were there enough housemen positioned around campus to keep an eye on her? Had we checked and double-checked every entrance, exit, and possible escape route in case something went wrong?
"Cole?" Cade's voice pulled me from my spiralling thoughts. She was looking at me with concern, which seemed out of place given the circumstances. "You okay?" I forced a smile.
"Just thinking about how proud I am of you." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. I was proud, fiercely so. But I was also terrified. The thought of her out in the open, vulnerable, exposed, made my skin crawl with anxiety. What if we missed something? What if Damien was watching right now, planning his next move?
"Ready?" Luce asked, her hand on the front door. Cade took a deep breath, then nodded.
"Ready."
The university hallway stretched before me like a gauntlet, each step forward a small victory against the voice in my head that begged me to run back to the safety of Covenant House. My palm was slick with sweat where Luce gripped it, her fingers intertwined with mine as if she could physically anchor me to reality. On my other side, Cole walked withcasual vigilance, his mismatched eyes constantly scanning our surroundings while pretending not to.
"You're doing great," Luce whispered, squeezing my hand as we approached the door to our first lecture. "Just breathe, okay?" I nodded, not trusting my voice. The corridor seemed both too crowded and too exposed. Every face turned in my direction felt like an accusation, every whisper a judgment. I knew what they were thinking: there goes the girl who was kidnapped, the damaged Consort, the victim. My stomach churned at the thought. I hated that word. Victim. As if everything I was could be reduced to what had been done to me.
"Ready?" Cole asked, his hand hovering near the small of my back, careful not to touch without permission. I'd been jumpy about unexpected contact since it happened.
"As I'll ever be," I managed, forcing my chin up as Cole pushed open the door.
The lecture hall fell silent as we entered, dozens of eyes swivelling toward us. I froze, my fight-or-flight response screaming at me to turn and run. But then Professor Harrington looked up from his notes and offered a warm smile.
"Miss Turner, welcome back. We've saved you a seat at the back, as requested." A collective exhale seemed to ripple through the room, and conversations resumed, albeit more subdued than before. Luce guided me toward the back row, where three seats waited near the exit. As we walked, a few students nodded or smiled encouragingly. Melody, sitting with a group of Courts girls, gave me a small wave. Hannah, I noticed, was conspicuously absent.
"See? Not so bad," Luce murmured as we settled into our seats. Cole took the aisle position, his body angled slightly to block anyone approaching from that direction.
I tried to focus on Professor Harrington's lecture on Romantic poetry, but my mind kept drifting. Every movement in my peripheral vision made me tense. Every time the door opened, my heart stuttered painfully in my chest. Cole noticed, his hand finding mine under the table when Keats's words about beauty and suffering blurred before my eyes.
"It's okay," he whispered. "I'm here. We can leave whenever you want." I shook my head, gripping his hand like a lifeline.
"I'm staying." The words came out stronger than I felt. By the time our third class ended before lunch, I had settled into an uneasy rhythm. The whispers still followed me, but they seemed less malicious than I'd feared. Most people were either supportive or simply left me alone, unsure how to act around me. I understood their awkwardness; what exactly was the appropriate thing to say to the girl who'd been kidnapped and tortured for weeks?
"Lunch?" Luce asked as we exited our Victorian Literature seminar. "Dining hall or the quad?"
"Dining hall," I said, surprising myself with the decision. "I can't hide forever." Cole's phone buzzed, and he checked the screen.
"Ryder's already there, saved us seats." The thought of Ryder waiting for me, his blue eyes watchful and protective, sent a complicated warmth through me. Since my return, he'd been a constant, unwavering presence, the first to notice when I was overwhelmed, the last to leave my side when nightmares dragged me screaming from sleep.
Walking into the dining hall was harder than the lectures had been. The space was more open, more crowded, more chaotic. Conversations didn't pause as noticeably, but I felt the weight of attention like a physical thing, pressing down on my shoulders, making each step heavier than the last. Ryder spottedus immediately, rising from his seat at our usual table and making his way toward us with that fluid grace that still made my heart skip despite everything. His eyes never left mine as he approached, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
"Poison," he said softly, the nickname no longer the mocking taunt it had once been, but something gentle, almost reverent. "How was class?"
"Survivable," I answered honestly. He nodded, understanding the weight behind that simple word.
"Come on, I've got food waiting for you. Rosa would kill me if I let you skip lunch."
“Rosa already made me food,” I protested, holding up the bag she had given me.
