Chapter 94 The quiet route
ADRIAN
I steady myself as Kelvin and I stride through the heavy gates of the Haven. The air is colder than when we left, with tension clinging to the walls, and every guard’s eye sharper. Our footsteps echo in the courtyard, and I catch a dozen looks flick at us: suspicion, anger and questions unanswered.
Kelvin and I exchange a quick glance, we knew this would come.
The war room door looms ahead. Behind it, Father will sit, waiting, judging. We push it open.
The room is lit harshly by overhead fixtures, maps pinned to walls, guards arrayed in tight, watchful lines. At the head of the table sits him, the King, rigid, arms folded, face grim.
He rises as we enter, expression unreadable. The council members whisper low, but silence falls fast.
“Adrian. Kelvin,” Father says, voice low but sharp. “Back so soon.”
I bow my head, trying to appear deferential. “Yes, Father.”
He gestures to the seats in front of him. “Sit. Explain yourselves.”
I slide into the wooden chair, Kelvin beside me. My heart hammers. My palms itch. I fight to steady my breathing.
“You helped Darian escape,” Father begins, voice cold steel. “Then vanished. Where is he now?”
I swallow. I know the lie is necessary. “We helped him break free. But we don’t know where he went after that. He insisted we leave him hidden. He would return when safe.”
Father’s eyes flick to Kelvin, then back to me. “You expect that answer to suffice?”
“Not completely, Father,” Kelvin says. His voice is quieter, but firm. “But it’s the truth that we know.”
A long stillness. I can hear my own breath. The King’s jaw moves.
“You risk everything you stand for. Everything I built,” he says finally. “If you betray this house, if you betray me, there will be consequences.”
I steady my voice. “We remain loyal. This was about protecting what we love.”
Father’s gaze narrows. He leans forward, voice clipped. “If I find proof that you’re hiding Darian’s location, I will not spare you.”
I swallow hard, nod. “We understand.”
He sits back, letting weight drop back into his frame. “Then remain worthy of mercy.”
We depart. The guards don’t salute. The council’s stares follow us.
Kelvin opens his mouth to speak. I press a palm to his arm. Not here. Not now.
Later, outside the keep walls, Kelvin exhales. “That was worse than I thought.”
I rub my temples. “He believes the lie… for now.”
Kelvin shakes his head. “He won’t for long.”
We slip into a hidden alleyway behind the structure. narrow and shadowed. We crouch beside a rusted door we’ve used before.
I glance at my phone’s screen, coordinates, maps, street names. The hideout.
Kelvin presses his lips. “This is where Darian will stay, for now. Barely off the grid, a block from the industrial belt. No royal registry attached. Sparse furnishings. Safe exits. We stashed keys earlier today.”
I nod, heart heavy. “Good. He deserves a place where his wounds don’t scream to the walls.”
Kelvin’s eyes darken. “He’ll be safe here, if we manage watchers.”
I rub my wrist. “We’ll set shifts. I’ll pull over‑watch. You too. I’ll bring supplies.”
He glances at me. “Adrian, trust is thinner than steel right now. We must act clean, silent.”
I grip his shoulder. “I won’t fail him.”
We cross the courtyards, ducking in shadows, evading guard patrols. Arriving before dusk, we slip into the hideout, a narrow townhouse in a nondescript block, windows curtained, paint peeling. Inside, it’s modest: one bedroom, a sparse living room, small kitchen, a back door leading to alleyways.
I flick on minimal lights, just one lamp. The air is still and cold.
Kelvin drops backpacks. “We’ll make this home for now.”
I cross to the window and peer out. Nothing but empty brick walls and distant hum of machinery.
I swallow hard. “We should move Darian soon. Before Father catches wind.”
Kelvin nods. He opens the bag and lays out first‑aid supplies, clean clothes, food rations. “At dawn, we’ll ferry him here. Quiet route.”
I move to the door, glance back at the space. “He should recover here, away from eyes.”
Kelvin steps close. “We made the right move. But it’s a dagger’s edge, one slip, and we’ll be exposed.”
I turn to him. “We’ll be ready.”
\~~~~
That night, I sit with my arm folded over my chest, the hideout dim around me. We have to protect Darian at all cost. The thought and fear of making a mistake claws at me.
Kelvin paces. I glance up. “You okay?”
He stops. “I’m scared, but I trust you.”
I nod, swallow down my own dread.
We sleep fitfully, one eye open to shadows.
Morning leaks gray through the curtains. I wake first, rise, patrol the narrow hallway, check windows. No movement outside. No footprints.
Kelvin stirs. He rubs his face. “Adrian?”
“We have to leave now,” I say and he nods in agreement and we head out to get Darian here safely.
We head over to the clearing very close to Iris’ grandfather’s home where we left Darian in his car.
He looks relieved to see us and we help him into our car quickly, there’s no time to chit chat.
I drive slower now, every turn weighted. The road’s edge is gravel and dusk shadows. Kelvin sits beside me, casting glances back at Darian, who lies slumped in the back seat, his breathing shallow but steady.
The car feels too tight, too loud, too full of tension. My fingers drum the steering wheel.
“Almost there,” I whisper.
Kelvin nods. “Quiet route in. Fewer patrols this way.”
We slip through side roads, past abandoned lots, over fences low enough to clear.
I see the hideout ahead.
I bring the car to a soft stop behind the structure. The engine hums, then goes silent. We open doors carefully.
Kelvin steps out, soft on his feet. I follow. Darian struggles, wincing, pushing his head up.
“Help me,” he murmurs. I move to lift him; Kelvin steadies from behind.
We half-carry, half-support him into the hideout. The door opens and the stale air inside greets us.
I steer Darian to a couch. He collapses gently. I rush to fetch blankets, water.
He lifts a hand, patting my shoulder. “Adrian.”
I hand them to him. “Here.”
He draws a ragged breath. “Thank you… for this. For everything.”
“We would do this again, a thousand times over,” Kelvin says and Darian smiles.
“You need to go back before they notice you’re both gone again. We can not risk them being suspicious,” Darian says and he isn’t wrong.
We say our goodbyes quickly, promising to bring another batch of supplies when next we come, and we leave him there, safe.
Hopefully.