The Encounter

The Encounter
That same night, the prison was quiet in the way only late hours could make it. Distant gates still clanged now and then, and the occasional cough or muttered curse drifted down the tier, but the heavy bulk of the place had settled into uneasy stillness.

Lucy lay on her thin mattress staring at the cracked underside of the upper bunk. Sleep refused to come as her eyes stayed wide awake. Her mind kept circling back to the last visit from her stepfather. The things he'd said to her and the weight of his words.

The memory played out clearly.

Silas had leaned close to the glass, voice low and urgent. “One of the guards will be paid off. He’ll leave certain doors open—the ones that lead out toward the kitchen loading bay."

After he said this, she was filled with several questions and went straight to asking them. "What guard? And why do I have to go to the loading bay of the kitchen?"

"I don't know the guard yet, but one of them will be paid off to get you there."

"What for?" She asked again, eager to hear the rest.

"There’s a transport truck that leaves every few nights to bring back foodstuffs for the prison inmates and guards. It’s a large vehicle with plenty of space underneath the chassis. You’ll tuck yourself in there. Once the truck clears the gates and stops at its first drop point, you get out and make your way to the pickup spot I’ll give you."

Lucy frowned at the idea of becoming an escaped convict, a fugitive running from the law. And well, this plan, if she were to go through with it, would be by far the craziest thing she'd ever done in her entire life.

"After I get to the pick-up spot, then what?"

"I’ll be waiting. I’ll have what you need—clothes, money, a place to stay while we work on proving your innocence."

She shook her head. "I don't know about this, Dad. What if I get caught? It's going to get worse for me if they catch me trying to escape from here?"

Silas sighed aggressively. "Remaining here is going to get you killed, Lucy. Sooner of later. You know it's true. Don't think I haven't seen your scars the few times I've been here to see you."

She knew he was right, but still, the decision wasn't an easy one to make.

"Think about it carefully. When you decide, call me. Only then does the plan start moving. On the chosen day, the same guard will let you know it’s time and you'll do everything according to how I've just explained to you.”

Lucy had listened with intent then. She was still listening to the echo of those words now as she replayed them in her head.

She turned her head slightly. “Mer? You awake?”

A soft shift of the mattress above her. “Yeah. After how many times those bitches have tried to kill me since you arrived, it's been quite difficult to fall into deep sleep.”

“You think going through with the escape is a good idea?”

Merida was quiet for a few seconds. “If it was me? I’d take it. Spending the rest of your life in this place isn’t living. If there's a chance for you to get out, I believe you should take it. Clear your name and restore your reputation. Before someone in here decides to finish what Tiana started.”

Lucy stared at the dark. “I know I should do it, but I feel so bad leaving you here all by yourself. I wish you could come with me. I’ll miss you if I leave.”

“I’ll miss you too, Lassie.” Merida’s voice was rough but honest. “Doesn’t mean you should stay.”

The conversation faded after that. Lucy turned onto her back again and let the choice sit heavy in her chest, turning it over and over while the prison night stretched on.

.

.

.

At the Cimaro estate, the rooms were quiet. Gabriella sat on the edge of the bed in a thin robe, bare feet against the cool floor. Andre was out again—she knew he was making moves against someone and doing something dangerous, but he still hadn't opened up to her about it, so she couldn't help but worry about him.

However, she had grown used to the waiting, but tonight her mind kept drifting to the Black Sailors and the ambush. Had Lancelot reached her mother in time? Had the plan held? Was she still alive so they could be the ones to take her down?

Gabriella knew to wait for Lancelot to call her and give his report, but she grew tired of waiting for him.

The satellite phone sat on the nightstand. She picked it up, dialed the number she had memorized, and waited for him to receive the call.

\---

Across the city, in the Knights’ wing of the Rossi mansion, Carla lay awake in Lancelot’s bed. He slept deeply beside her, one arm thrown across the sheets, breathing slow and even. The room smelled faintly of gun oil and the leftover heat of their earlier hours together. She watched the rise and fall of his chest for a while, the hard lines of his face softened by sleep.

Her thoughts were indecisive as she considered what she was starting to have with him--- what she was starting to feel for him. Then the phone in his bedside drawer began to ring.

Curious, she slipped out of bed. The floor was cold under her bare feet. She opened the drawer carefully, lifted the satellite phone, and answered without speaking. Lancelot still slept, having not heard the sound of the phone due to how deeply he slumbered.

A woman’s voice came through, clear and urgent. “Lancelot? How did everything go?"

Carla stayed silent as she listened to the woman speaking.

“Lancelot? Are you there?”

There was still no response from him. Suspicion edged into Gabriella’s tone. After a few more seconds, the line went dead.

Carla slowly lowered the phone from her ear. She looked back at the sleeping man in the bed, recognition settling cold and sharp behind her eyes. She had heard that voice before. She knew exactly who it belonged to. Only question she needed an answer to now was; why was Gabriella Rossi, a traitor to the clan, calling the leader of the King's Knights?