Cecilia’s pov
Before anyone could escalate, I cut in. "Tang. Enough. Sit down."
He held the agent’s stare a second longer before finally pulling back and slumping into his seat, arms crossed.
Both agents shared a nervous glance and wiped their brows like they’d just stepped out of a sauna.
Sawyer gave Tang a look that screamed, You chaotic menace.
Then he sighed and straightened his collar like a man preparing to give a TED Talk titled "How Not to Die in a Black Ops Van."
"Maybe next time, use your words," he muttered. "Some of us like our kneecaps where they are."
Tang didn’t answer right away. His fingers tapped against his leg, slow and steady, like he was grounding himself.
Then, softly, "You okay?"
His tone had changed--gentler now, like the storm had passed.
He reached into his jacket pocket, retrieved a butterscotch candy, and unwrapped it with exaggerated care.
Without warning, he popped it into Sawyer’s mouth.
"Here. You get cranky when you’re crashy."
Sawyer sighed through the caramel like a man reconsidering his entire career path.
I sighed too, my mind already miles away.
Sebastian.
Where was he now? Already inside? Already surrounded?
Evelyn leaned her head against my shoulder. "Don’t worry, Cece. Vance is with him the whole time. He’ll be fine."
My stomach tightened. Vance being there wasn’t comforting. It made me more on edge if anything,.
Still, I had to admit--his family carried weight. His father was a literal Duke. That kind of legacy didn’t just open doors. It owned the buildings.
Evelyn sighed beside me. "Okay. We need to change the subject before your worry gives me a tension headache."
I blinked. "Sorry."
She shook her head. "No, I mean it. You’re allowed to be worried. But also practice self-care, cece."
She sat up a little and reached over, gently tugging at a strand of my hair. It slipped through her fingers.
"Is this a new shampoo? You smell expensive."
I let out a tired laugh. "It’s that coconut one from a drugstore."
"Well, consider me fooled. You smell like a spa I can’t afford."
That got an actual smile out of me, which apparently was her goal, because she grinned and leaned back in.
Then She yawned--loud and unapologetic--then dropped her head back onto my shoulder.
"Mind if I crash here for a bit? You’re warm."
"Go for it."
She curled into me like it was muscle memory, like she’d done it a hundred times before. Within minutes, her breathing slowed, steady and soft.
Mine didn’t.
I stared out the window, thoughts racing as the city lights blurred past like streaks of neon.
About twenty minutes later, we pulled up to a sleek hotel that looked like it came with a nondisclosure agreement. I gently shook Evelyn awake, and our Matrix-style escorts led us straight through the lobby and into a private elevator. The elevator took us straight to the roof.
A helicopter waited for us there, rotors already spinning, whipping our hair and clothes into chaos like we’d stepped onto a movie set.
This was no Uber ride. This was full-blown covert operation.
"This way, please," one agent said smoothly, while the other held open the cabin door.
Once inside, we were asked to power off our phones and put on blindfolds.
Tang bristled. Of course he did.
I leaned over and whispered, "Play by their rules, or we don’t get in. And if we don’t get in, who’s going to protect your precious Alpha?"
That shut him up. He grumbled but complied.
I slipped my blindfold on, deliberately loose. With my smaller head, there was a gap near the bottom. Just enough.
Pretending to doze, I peeked through the opening. We weren’t flying that high, which made it easy to track the landscape.
Eventually, land gave way to ocean. Below us, the sea churned under a stormy sky, the waves a deep, slate blue. The whole scene looked like the opening shot of a dystopian drama--gray skies melting into darker water.
As we descended, an island came into view.
"We’ve arrived," someone announced.
Our blindfolds came off.
Tang and Evelyn looked like they’d just woken from a nap on a moving train--disoriented and mildly offended.
I mentally applauded their ability to sleep through rotor noise and classified airspace.
We all turned to look up at the castle perched dramatically on the hilltop, lit like something out of a gothic novel.
And then I saw the horse-drawn carriage.
Seriously?
The helicopter behind us took off, and our two escorts gestured toward the carriage like this was normal. I nearly rolled my eyes.
What was this, a themed dinner theater?
But it wasn’t just for show. The carriage didn’t head toward the castle, but instead wound its way down a narrow path through thick trees, eventually stopping at a secluded cluster of houses built into the hillside like a secret village.
We pulled up in front of one. A polished-looking agent turned to us.
"The gala begins at seven. Please change into formal attire and be ready by six-thirty," he said before disappearing like a ghost with a clipboard.
The moment they were gone, Sawyer dropped onto the nearest sofa with a groan.
"Jesus Christ, my back. How many transit methods does one meeting need? This feels like applying to Hogwarts."
"Quit complaining and check the time," I said, pointing at the wall clock. It read six o’clock.
Everyone jumped like someone had hit play on a heist montage.
We had thirty minutes to go from travel-weary to gala-ready.