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Chapter 68
~Valerie’s POV~
The club’s back door slammed shut behind us like a final shield between life and death. But there was no time to breathe. No time to process, only time to move.
Within minutes, Dristan was barking instructions to the worker who had opened the door, his voice sharp and decisive. I watched the man scramble, nodding quickly as he moved.
Two cars. Four men. All dressed like us. They were to pose as the real team.
Two bikes for the rest of us—something with less noise, fast and untraceable.
"They’ll head south," Dristan said. "The car will act as our decoy. If we’re lucky, it’ll draw whoever’s still watching away from the club."
"And we?" Xade asked as he pushed open the side gate that led to the alley behind the club.
"We go back. Quietly."
A few minutes later, two bikes were rolled out. Xade swung onto one, sleek and matte black, adjusting the grip with ease. Xander hesitated, looking between him and the other bike.
"Dristan’s riding with her?" Xander asked flatly, already irritated.
"Do you want to fight him for it?" Xade replied in a dry voice. "Have you not seen it? The way he grabbed the bike when they came out of the club? His grip? His eyes?"
Xander muttered something under his breath and crossed his arms.
"He’s angry, Xander," Xade added, his voice lower now. "And right now, the best bet for Valerie’s survival is the one who’d burn the damn world to keep her breathing."
Xander’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing more. He got on the bike beside Xade and waited.
When the club doors opened again, Dristan emerged, helmet in one hand, mine in the other. He tossed it to me.
"Get on."
There was no room to argue. No point either. I mounted the bike behind him, slid the helmet on, and wrapped my arms around his middle, steadying myself.
He didn’t speak as he started the engine. Just pulled us into motion, and soon the city’s edge blurred behind us.
At the next bend in the road, Xade and Xander veered off, taking the south-east highway back toward PSA’s campus. We didn’t follow. Instead, we turned left.
The road narrowed into a less familiar path. Dristan’s posture didn’t change, but something in the silence between us did.
It took me a moment to realise what Xade’s words had meant—he’s angry.
And I was beginning to feel it too.
"Dristan," I called out, raising my voice just enough over the roar of the bike. "This isn’t the road back to PSA." He didn’t answer. "Where are we going?"
Another turn. Another road that led away from everything I recognised.
"Dristan," I said again, louder this time. "Answer me. What’s happening?"
"We split up to distract the attackers," he replied calmly.
"Okay... and then we head back to school, right?"
"No."
I blinked, tightening my grip around his waist. It was the best logical thing to do with how he was speeding down the road. "No?"
"Not yet," he said firmly. "I will get you to school... after I’ve deemed it safe."
I wanted to argue, but what could I say to that? It was the most Dristan-like thing to do. Overbearing. Unrelenting. But also... not wrong.
So I stayed silent.
We rode another twenty minutes before we finally pulled into a quiet estate tucked between rows of tall trees. The house was large, modern but not flashy.
There weren’t any guards. No visible cameras. But every inch of it screamed secure. Dristan parked the bike at the side of the house, got off, and waited for me to follow.
I climbed off with the helmet in hand, scanning the surroundings. It was too quiet.
Without a word, Dristan walked ahead. I followed.
We stepped into the house through a side door. The interior was clean, dark-toned, and minimal. The air smelled like aged oak and something faintly smoky. Maybe incense.
Dristan dropped the keys on the small table by the entrance. I watched him, expecting him to say something, but instead, he glanced at me, then reached back, picked up the keys again, and shoved them into his pocket.
Imagine... Trust issues, huh?
Then, without glancing at me, he said, "Make yourself at home. We leave in three hours."
"Why?"
He paused mid-step. "What?"
"Why?" I asked again, stepping further into the living room.
"What do you mean ’why’?" He turned to face me, confusion and slight irritation flashing in his eyes.
"Why did you come for me?" I asked, this time more quietly. "You said not to appear before you again. You said you didn’t care."
He exhaled through his nose and looked away. "I did. And so did you. But here we are."
His voice lacked bite. It wasn’t a jab. Just a simple truth. But it still cut.
"Here we are?" I shook my head. "You do not get to tell me that when you behaved rudely to me. Do not behave that way with me. So tell me the truth. Why the fuck did you come to get me?"
Dristan hesitated to speak, but he did later. "Whitmore."
Just that word alone made me scoff, and I bit down on my lower lip. "So it was all an order and nothing more." I smiled and looked away. "Good to know."
I turned away from him and noticed him move towards me from the corner of my eye. "Valerie, it wasn’t just..."
"Just what? Principal Whitmore?" I shot back, stepping toward him. "So I should believe that somewhere in the middle of your ice-cold silence and glaring at me like I’m a curse, you actually wanted to do something? You wanted to come find me?"
His jaw clenched. I saw it. But I didn’t stop.
"Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you just got dragged back into duty. Like saving me was part of some political clean-up so the school doesn’t lose its shiny reputation."
"Valerie, I—"
"No." My voice cracked, and I hated it, but I kept going. "You don’t get to say my name like that. Not when the last time I heard it from you, it came laced with venom. Like I was nothing and I disgusted you."