“Hudson? What’s going on?”
When I turn, Ivory is standing there, bare legs, my shirt swallowing her small frame. She’s still half-asleep, rubbing at her eyes, but the second she realizes we’re not alone, she freezes. Color rushes into her cheeks when she spots Hannah.
For one split second, everything goes still. It’s just my sister, the woman I’m trying to protect, and me. Every unspoken truth hangs between us in the middle of the kitchen.
Hannah’s eyes widen, flicking from Ivory to me and back again. “Well… that explains the shirt,” she mutters under her breath, crossing her arms like she’s settling in for a show.
Ivory swallows hard, her fingers curling into the hem of the shirt like she wishes it would swallow her whole. “Oh, um… hi,” she says softly, voice still thick with sleep. “I didn’t know anyone else was here.”
Hannah lifts a hand in a small wave; eyebrows raised in amused judgment only a sister can pull off.
“Hi. I’m Hannah. Hudson’s sister.”
The color in Ivory’s cheeks deepen. “I’m Ivory.” She offers a tiny, awkward smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… interrupt anything.”
“You didn’t,” I say quickly, running a hand down my face. “This is just… not how I planned for anyone to meet.”
Hannah snorts. “No kidding. Most people start with a handshake, not a loaded weapon and half-naked introductions in the kitchen.”
Ivory winces.
I groan out loud while Hannah looks entirely too pleased with herself.
Hannah lets out a sudden laugh that’s loud and unexpected, completely at odds with the tension choking the room a second ago. “Okay, wow,” she says, waving a hand between the three of us. “This is… a lot. But nobody’s dying, nobody’s bleeding, and apparently, Hudson has a girlfriend no one knows about, so I think we can all relax.”
Ivory’s shoulders drop a fraction, relief softening her posture. “I’m really sorry,” she murmurs. “I didn’t mean to walk into… whatever this is.”
“Oh, honey,” Hannah says with a grin, “trust me, you didn’t do anything wrong. My brother just has the emotional range of a brick sometimes.”
“Hey,” I mutter, but she ignores me completely.
Hannah tosses her keys onto the counter and steps farther into the kitchen, brushing past me like she owns the place. “Alright. Since we’re all awake now, how about we sit down before Hudson gives himself an ulcer?” Making her way to the coffee pot.
We sit around the old scarred table, coffee steaming between us, Ivory tucked against my side.
“So,” Hannah says, leaning forward, “does someone want to tell me why you’re up here hiding out with a girl who looks like she hasn’t slept in a week?”
Ivory stiffens, and I reach under the table, brushing my fingers against hers in a silent reassurance.
I take a breath. “Alright. You deserve to know what’s going on.”
Hannah’s expression shifts, the humor fading into something more serious. “Good. Because I’m listening.”
And just like that, the three of us settle in, and the truth is finally ready to come out.
Hannah listens, eyes sharp, barely blinking as we lay it all out; the gala, the abduction, her father, Crest, everything we ran from.
She doesn’t flinch.
“Wow, this is definitely some heavy shit.”
She leans back in her seat, chewing her nails, thinking, and processing everything that was said. “Alright,” she says finally, “here’s what we do.”
Ivory looks up, hope and dread tangling in her eyes. “What?”
“You’re going to go back. Both of you.” Hannah’s voice is calm, steady. “You walk in with your head high. You don’t beg. You don’t run. You tell them you’re done being traded and dealt like a piece of property. That you are not going to marry this Crest creep, you will pick who you marry, or you walk out for good.”
Ivory shakes her head, voice barely a whisper. “That’s not an option. My father will never agree to anything like that. He doesn’t do ultimatums. What he says goes, point-blank. He always wins.”
