Meadow's POV
The phone sat heavy in front of me, Tyler's calm fingers brushing the table as if it were an extension of his control. Every instinct screamed at me to refuse, but he'd made it clear that my hesitation had consequences. My sister's terrified eyes, the raw pleading in that photo, were burned into my mind.
I reached for the device, every movement deliberate, every heartbeat loud in my chest. Tyler leaned back, watching, smiling that infuriating, casual smile, like I had no choice at all.
"Hello?" I whispered, barely lifting the receiver.
Static.
And then a voice, low, sharp, and unyielding:
"Meadow."
Alaric.
Relief and fear collided so violently I felt my knees weaken. His tone was calm, unshakable, but the steel beneath it made it clear: he knew more than I did, saw further than I could imagine.
"They have her?" I asked immediately, my voice breaking.
"Yes. For now. You need to stay calm, stay in position. Don't react to Tyler. Let him think he's winning."
I swallowed, fingers tight around the phone. "I can't just… he's… he's going to…"
"...hurt her?" His words were soft, controlled, but the underlying edge of command froze me. "He won't. Not if you do exactly as I say. Trust me, Meadow. I've already accounted for his next moves. And I've prepared for the one after that."
The words should have comforted me, but they only tightened the cage around my chest. Tyler's games had no mercy, and Alaric's presence, invisible but omnipresent, was not enough to calm the storm inside me.
"Why am I still talking to you through this phone?" I asked, frustration leaking into my tone.
"Because Tyler Cross is smart," Alaric replied. "And reckless. Dangerous. But he underestimates you. And he underestimates me."
The three dots appeared on Tyler's screen, the same slow, deliberate ellipsis that had haunted my morning. My heart lurched as he typed:
Testing obedience?
I didn't respond.
You're hiding. Smart.
The words carried a mockery that made my stomach drop.
"Ignore him," Alaric said softly but firmly. "Every word is designed to provoke. Every smile is a lie. Your job is to survive this exchange intact. My job is to dismantle him silently, completely."
I nodded, though he couldn't see it. My pulse was deafening. Tyler's gaze flicked to me, assessing, calculating. Then he spoke, smooth, almost casual:
"You look tense. Wouldn't want that beautiful composure to crack before dessert."
I gritted my teeth. "Where is she?"
"Safe," he repeated, eyes gleaming with a cold satisfaction. "For now."
The restaurant's dim lighting suddenly felt suffocating. I hated this power he held, not just over my sister, but over me. Every choice, every step I took, was measured against his whims.
Then, Tyler did something I hadn't anticipated. He slid the phone across the table toward me.
"Call him," he said. "Let's see whose control is stronger. Let's see if your precious Ashford can rescue you in real time."
I froze.
Alaric's voice whispered through the line in my ear, steady, unflinching:
Don't. Not yet. Wait for my signal.
Tyler's eyes narrowed. "No hesitation? Are you afraid, Meadow?"
"I'm not afraid," I snapped, though my voice betrayed me. My pulse surged. "I'm just… careful."
He smirked, leaning back. "Careful. Or clever?"
Before I could answer, the waiter approached with drinks. Tyler accepted a glass with ease, his eyes never leaving mine. "You know, it's fascinating," he said. "You've grown into someone entirely… predictable. You're still cautious, still obedient. Still… scared."
The words should have crushed me, but instead, they sparked something sharp inside. Rage. Protective, desperate, uncontrollable. I realized Tyler didn't know me at all, not really. He only thought he did.
"I'm not scared," I said, calm but lethal. "I'm focused."
He chuckled softly. "Ah, yes. Focus. A dangerous thing in the wrong hands."
I didn't flinch. I didn't let him see the storm inside me. Not yet.
And then Tyler did something audacious. He tapped his fingers lightly on the table and smiled, too casually, like he was revealing a secret just to unsettle me:
"She's worried, you know."
I stiffened. My fingers curled into fists. "What do you mean?"
Tyler's smirk widened. "Your sister. She's terrified. And every message you ignore, every hesitation you show, it feeds her fear. She's clever, Meadow. But she's still your sister. And that makes her… malleable."
I swallowed hard.
Alaric's voice cut through the haze of fear, steady as a blade:
Remember your position. Let him think he has control. Don't act until I say.
I exhaled, forcing a measured calm.
Tyler leaned back, savoring the tension. "You're good at this," he said softly. "Very good. But so predictable."
Then he leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the table. His eyes caught mine in a predator's stare.
"Tell me something, Meadow," he said. "Do you really think Ashford can save her without you? That your choices don't affect the outcome?"
The weight of the question pressed down on me. I knew the answer. I had thought I could protect her alone, thought I could navigate Tyler's labyrinth of cruelty without help. But the truth was undeniable: if I misstepped, even slightly… my sister paid the price.
I swallowed. "He's not Ashford," I said carefully, my words deliberate. "He's human. He has limits."
Tyler's smile faltered slightly, the faintest hint of irritation flickering in his eyes. "Limits are for the weak. I have none."
I let the silence hang, tense, heavy.
Then, finally, the waiter returned with our meals. Tyler didn't order, didn't glance at the food. He was focused entirely on me, his control radiating in waves.
I realized something then: Tyler didn't need to touch my sister. He didn't need to threaten me physically. The leverage, the fear, the anticipation, that was enough. That was his weapon. And he wielded it masterfully.
I ate mechanically, every bite deliberate, my mind racing through contingencies. Alaric's instructions replayed over and over: Wait. Observe. Let him think he's winning.
The meal stretched endlessly. Tyler talked, his voice smooth, calculating, stories peppered with subtle threats, reminders of his reach, his intellect, his dominance. Every word, every laugh, every glance was designed to wear me down, to make me doubt, to make me hesitate.
And I played along.
"Yes," I said at the right moment, "I understand."
"Good girl," Tyler murmured, leaning close. The proximity made my skin crawl, but I didn't flinch. "See? You're learning. Adaptation is survival."
I smiled thinly. "I've always survived, Tyler."
His eyes darkened, the humor vanishing. "Sometimes survival isn't enough."
I didn't respond. I didn't need to.
Then the phone buzzed discreetly in my pocket. A message from Alaric:
Now.
I took a slow breath, letting Tyler watch, letting him think he had broken me. Then, carefully, I slipped the phone onto the table, opened the secure app Alaric had instructed me to use, and hit call.
Instantly, Tyler stiffened.
Alaric's voice filled the room, calm, omnipresent: "Tyler."
The single word carried a weight that made Tyler's smile falter.
"I know exactly where you are, what you've done, and what you're planning," Alaric continued, voice even, unyielding. "And every step you've taken, every threat, every manipulation, it ends tonight."
Tyler's hands clenched on the table, his composure faltering for the first time.
"I…" he started, but Alaric cut him off.
"No. You don't get to finish that sentence. Meadow's sister is safe. And if you make a single wrong move, I will ensure your life, your resources, and your leverage vanish entirely. You're in my city, my jurisdiction, and under my surveillance. You're done, Tyler."
The restaurant felt colder suddenly, the dim lighting harsh against his faltering mask.
I felt a surge of adrenaline. Tyler had underestimated the coordination, the precision of Alaric's reach. Every move I had feared, every worst-case scenario, had already been accounted for.
Tyler's smirk returned, faint, forced. "Clever," he said. "But cleverness isn't the same as victory."
Alaric's tone didn't waver. "Victory doesn't come from manipulation. It comes from control. And control is mine."
Tyler glared at me, then at Alaric's voice on the phone, then back at me. His composure finally cracked, briefly, dangerously.
And I saw my chance.
"Let her go," I said, voice steady, deadly calm. "Now."
Tyler hesitated, calculating. Then, with a sharp exhale, he nodded. "Fine," he said, voice low, defeated. "She's free."
I felt a weight lift I hadn't realized I'd been carrying, the tension, the fear, the constant anticipation of catastrophe. My sister was safe. Tyler had underestimated the unity, the coordination, the precision of our strategy.
But even as relief surged through me, I knew this was not the end. Tyler Cross had been checked, but not destroyed. He had learned something tonight, and that knowledge would make him dangerous in new ways.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket. "Dinner's over," I said, standing.
Tyler rose as well, though the mask of confidence he tried to wear couldn't hide the calculation behind his eyes.
"This isn't finished," he said, low, dangerous.
I didn't respond. I didn't need to.
Outside, the cool night air hit my face, and I exhaled deeply. Behind me, Tyler's presence receded, but I knew he was still watching, still waiting.
Alaric appeared silently beside me, a reassuring weight. "She's safe," he said.
"Yes," I whispered, still catching my breath. "Safe. For now."
And as we walked away, I realized something vital: I wasn't just surviving anymore. I was learning to fight on my terms, to protect, to predict, to survive with teeth bared, and to strike with precision when the moment demanded it.
Tonight had changed everything.
I would never underestimate Tyler Cross again.
But I would never underestimate myself either.