Strings and Schemes

Chapter 40

(Louis POV)

I don't like seeing Zayn wound so tight. Don't like seeing him snapping at shadows, pacing like a caged animal, his eyes always somewhere else.

But I like even less how he's looking at me whenever I so much as breathe near Olivia. Like it's personal. Like I'm the problem. Never mind that he's the one who looks one wrong word away from breaking something. Never mind that we're all just trying to keep it together. We've all got different ways of dealing.

Zayn broods. Niall eats. Liam makes a plan.

And me?

I find the silver linings. The distraction. The one thing that makes all of this feel less impossible. Right now, that's Olivia. Because Olivia gets it. She's just as sharp, just as relentless, just as fucking tired as the rest of us.

And when she pulls up an old message from Raina—the one that says, Meet me at M.C. for a drink later? Got something to show you.—my stomach kicks with something new.

"She wasn't talking about a person," she says, eyes flicking to mine.

I grin. "She was talking about a place."

M.C. is a members-only, underground club, a place where politicians and diplomats spill their secrets over whiskey.

Perfect place for Raina to hide a message.

"Let me do the talking," Olivia mutters as we approach the entrance.

I scoff. "Please. I've got this."

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, but I don't give her time to argue.

The bouncer barely looks up as we approach. "Invitation?"

I pat my pocket, nodding like I'm pulling something out—then grab Olivia's hand and stride past him like we own the place.

The bouncer hesitates just a second too long. By the time he calls out, we're inside.

Olivia stares at me. "Did you just fake your way in with pure confidence?"

I smirk. "I'm a man of many talents, love."

She shakes her head, but I catch it—the way her lips twitch, just slightly. She was impressed. I take that as a win.

Inside, the bar is low-lit, expensive, and suffocating.

It's all dark wood, deep reds, and hushed voices. A place where people talk without consequences. My stomach churns at the familiarity of it. It smells like politics. Like something Raina wanted to escape.

Then Olivia stiffens beside me.

I follow her gaze, and my breath catches. A framed painting on the back wall. Raina's work.

The rose in the glass box.

A deliberate message, staring us right in the face.

"Well," I exhale. "That's a bit on the nose."

Olivia doesn't respond. She's already moving, stepping closer, scanning every detail.

Then, she stops.

Her fingers brush the bottom of the frame. "Look."

I do. And I see it. A small, scratched marking in the wood.

Not a signature. A number - Coordinates.

I swear, my heart stops for half a second.

"She left us a map," Olivia whispers.

I look at her. She looks at me. And then, at the exact same time, we both grin. Because for the first time in days— We have something real.

I don't need to see Zayn to know he's about to crack. I can feel it in the air.  In the way he hasn't said a word to me since Olivia and I got back. In the way he's clenching his jaw, eyes locked somewhere past the venue walls.