After the news that Tristan and Christine were taken by James, there was radio silence. Days passed, waiting for something — anything.
Ryn was proven correct. Just after James won his crown he sent soldiers after the Magnolia boys and a few others. Unlike Christine and Tristan, alive capture wasn't required. They made it out, thanks to Ryland and some quick thinking.
In other news, Tristan's mother showed up on Jasper's doorstep twelve hours after his capture. Jasper and Tristan's mother didn't get along, but she insisted on staying in Jasper's house. He used Ryn as a buffer most of the time. They got along much better.
There was nothing to do. No leads to follow, nowhere to look.
They all just vanished.
Jasper threw the landline at the wall and it broke.
Ryn looked over at him. "Babe-"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. That's the second one today."
She sighed. "I was going to say maybe you should take a break."
Tristan's mother just eyed him warily.
"Do you need something, Elizabeth?" He finally snapped.
Ryn came over and ran her fingers over his arm, then took him by the hand. He followed her. Ryn took him upstairs, where their bedroom was. Ryn only tolerated sleeping on the floor in the living room for so long. She made him sit on the bed and took off her shirt. He made a few minor complaints, I'm really not interested right now, but didn't stop her. Ryn pulled off his shirt, too. She walked around to the headboard and laid on top of the pillows, beckoning him with a finger and gently tapping her chest. Lie here.
Jasper turned and solemnly moved to her, laid his head on her breast. He wrapped an arm around her waist. She ran her fingers through his hair.
"You should sleep." She told him. He shook his head, but was out in minutes anyway.
*
It took over an hour until Christine was consoled. He forced her to eat, and she did, no complaints.
"We have to get out of here." She finally said.
He didn't know what to tell her. Without his crown, Tristan was an easy target, and one with many enemies.
Chris read his expression. "You don't think we're getting out of here."
"I'm nothing without my crown, Chrissy. I'm defenseless." He told her hopelessly.
She threw out something she'd been considering. "What if I stole the medallion?"
His eyes rounded, he grabbed her strongly. "No, whatever you're thinking — no. Even if it worked and a new contest was ordered, you couldn't win. It's a contest for lykan king, you can't even shift."
Christine didn't say anything else. She curled up beside him, and fell asleep.
*
Another morning, another bucket of cold water.
Tristan stood wordlessly and walked to James.
For six more days she watched this happen. She watched Tristan deteriorate, and every morning it was harder for him to stand up and follow James from the cellar. Every night they would throw him back in, followed by the scraps.
That morning Tristan stood up, bracing himself on the shelves so he could stand. He collapsed twice before fully rising to his feet.
Christine stood up behind him and bashed Tristan in the side of the head with a rock. He collapsed, and she dropped to her knees to check that he was indeed alive, just unconscious.
He was.
James looked him over as she stood. "I was wondering how long you could take it. Not very long, I see. He probably had a few more weeks in him."
"I go with you today." Chrissy said firmly.
He looked at her and shrugged. "Makes no difference to me, come along, pretty thing."
James placed his hand on the small of her back and lead her outside the cellar. He slammed and locked the door, then put the keys in his pocket.
Keeping his hand on her back, he lead her inside the house. He lead her up the stairs, and into a bedroom. There was only one thing a man ever wanted out of a captive woman. Good. This was part of her plan.
He locked the door and left her standing in the middle of the room.
James poured a glass of whiskey on a dresser and began to drink it as he sat in the chair. She saw the leather cord peek out of his shirt. Her heart raced. She knew this was a long shot, but she had to try.
For the little creature in her stomach, for her husband rotting away in that cellar as James beat him closer and closer to death every day. For her people.
He gestured to her clothing. "Take it off."
For the creature, for my husband, for my people.
She took a steeling breath and did exactly what he asked. James approached her, pinning her hard and fast to the bed. He looked down at her, then became consumed with his fly. Christine yanked on her hands as hard as she possibly could. Her right hand slipped through his grip. She took the single moment to rip the medallion off his neck.
He had her pinned back down so fast she wasn't even sure if she got it. She squeezed hard, feeling the familiar edges cut into her palm. James touched his neck, realized what happened, and Chrissy kicked him as hard as she could.
He charged Christine, ripped the cord out of her hands and threw her on the floor. She heard a little tink, and looked back to see that the necklace had fallen. He'd dropped it and desperately tried to pick it back up. It slipped out of his fingers every time, like magic.
It worked.
She laughed.
She couldn't stop laughing. It worked.
"You're just a woman!" He accused, still unable to pick up the necklace.
She looked at him and quoted her husband. "The Goddess has different plans for this woman."
He was furious. "Put your clothes on."
Christine put her clothes on and picked up the medallion, putting it in it's rightful place around her neck.
Once she was done, he dragged her by the collar of her shirt out the front door.
"I can't keep you here without repercussion. It's against the rules. Go. Your boyfriend stays."
"I'm not leaving without Tristan." She said adamantly.
"Yes, you will." He told her. "I'm sure you tried to get out of that cellar, there's no getting in it without the key. It's enchanted." With that, he slammed the door in her face. Untrusting, Christine ran around to the side of the house anyway. She shouted for Tristan, but there was no response. He was still out.
Two of James' goons came around the corner of the house. One held a club, the other an axe. Out of desperation, she quickly grabbed a rock off the ground and pounded the hell out of the lock. Having broken locks such as this before, she was disheartened to see that her work hadn't even left a scratch.
They came slowly closer, taunting her. "You better run, sweetheart!"
She hit the lock again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Not even a nick. She threw it down one more time and the rock split. The momentum caused her to slam her hand into the latch, cutting the tops of her fingers.
Well, her imperviousness to injury evidently came and went.
Christine told Tristan she loved him, even though he couldn't hear it, and made the decision to take off across the property. There was an old truck at the edge of the field. Thankfully, the brush around it didn't look overgrown, meaning it was used in the last several months or so and the grass was cut around it. She ran as fast as her feet would take her. The field was wide, but she made a lot of distance between herself and the goons. Chrissy tried the car door; it was locked. There was no way she could break the glass with her bare arm without risking serious injury. Her mind went to the creature. She couldn't risk hurting him any further. She ran around to the bed of the truck and found an old toolbox in the back. Oh no. Her heart sank. It was full of car parts and smaller tools.
Someone's been working on this car, even if she could hotwire it fast enough, it might not even start.
Christine watched them make their way across the field, still walking slow, taunting and snickering. She rooted through the toolbox, finding nothing long and heavy enough to shatter the window. She found spark plugs and a pocketknife. Christine dumped out a box of spark-plugs in her hand, and smashed it as hard as she could with the pocket knife. She took a piece of porcelain that fell and picked it up, shielding her face as she threw it at the back window. "Thank you, Alex!" She cried.
At the sight of the broken window, the goons picked up their pace.
Christine reached in and unlocked the driver's side door, opening it with the other hand and sliding into the seat. She kicked the hell out of the cover over the steering column, cracking it and pulling it off. The two men started even faster, swearing at each other. She caught a bit of their angry conversation, "she was a queen, how the fuck was I supposed to know that she could hotwire a car?!"
She refused to start panicking, pulling a rusted pocketknife from where she tucked it away in her bra. Christine pulled the ignition wires from the car, stripped the end of the wires and twisted the two red ones together. She touched together the starter wire and the engine started to churn and chug. She let it try to rev, took them apart. She tried again, looking up at the men. They were a lot closer. She tried again, getting a more eager sound from the truck. She took them apart and tried one last time, and the engine turned over. She cried out in relief, shoving the truck into first gear.
The truck began to roll over the grass. She put in second gear, then turned just in front of the two chasers. The truck bumbled along the ground until she made it to the dirt road — home free.
*
Tristan awoke much later in the day. He clutched his pounding head.
His first thought: Christine.
Where the hell was Christine?
He didn't feel her in the room with him. Lykans were little to no good at channeling any sort of magic, but they did have at least a little — if they were mated. If he concentrated hard he could search the magic bond for signs she was okay, but that was the limit.
With great effort, Tristan sat up against the wall. First thing he found was she wasn't anywhere close. He didn't know if that was good or bad, but it did make it harder to concentrate on her.
He took some deep breaths and tried to clear his mind except for Christine. He thought of her face, her beautiful smile, the sound of her laugh.
He didn't feel pain from her. Just a lot of determination and nervousness.
She must've done it. Stolen the medallion. James wasn't going to let her leave, he said so himself. It's against the rules of the King's Fight to capture your opponent. Broken rules always end in death or defeat.
For half a second, he had to smile to himself.
She was going to save them all.