another update! yay! im sorry to be here and saying this to you guys, but the next few updates may be a little later than usual (how much late is too late, i ask u :D) because uni just keeps using me like a punching bag and the number of deadlines I've got at this point isn't even funny anymore. I'm sorry once again, I promise I'll try my hardest to update once a week or two! Xx.

[cw for this chapter: noncon acts, triggering themes]

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Bella Vita, it said in bold cursive letters above the fancy diner I stood near. Alyssa had talked a lot about it and told me plenty of times she'd like to take me out here one night, but I hadn't known we'd be here like this.

Her with Michael, and me with Soren. On a double date.

I stayed near the shadowed sidewalk, glancing at the entrance as if expecting her or Michael to barge out any second looking for me. They didn't know I was out here contemplating how dreadful this night could turn into. I'd spotted them just as they'd made their way inside and then I'd hidden behind like a coward because I was too scared to go in.

They'd be sitting and waiting at the reserved table by now. I knew that. I just couldn't make myself go inside just yet. I didn't want to go inside even though I knew I'd have to eventually.

"God," I whispered, turned around and wrapped my arms around myself. The faint hints of leather and cologne wafted from the collar of the jacket I wore--one of the many jackets I'd still not returned to Ryder--and I wondered how long I could stay here before Alyssa phoned me.

This was a bad idea. Michael was in there. I was supposed to have dinner with them both like everything was normal and perfect and fine. And Santiago would be here too--or at least I thought he'd be. He'd be here because he'd been following me and this was it--maybe my last chance. I had to go in.

Not alone, my brain begged with me. Call him. Call Ryder.

Earlier that day I'd merely texted him the address of the diner I stood before now. He hadn't seen it or replied to me. The dreadful feeling in my gut had only increased within the passing hours, telling me I should cancel out on this whole plan.

But instead of giving in and walking away from the looming diner behind me, I got my phone out and made a quick call.

It went straight to voicemail.

Worried, I placed a quick, mostly pleading message. "Hey, Ryder. I'm here at the diner. I sent you the address earlier in a text. I... Can you please call me back or, or text me? Just let me know if you'll be here or if I should tell...them that you couldn't make it?" Or maybe just tell them that you're not even Soren in the first place? I sighed. "Just let me know. I...I won't mind if you can't make it." Just please let me know.

The voicemail ended and I took a deep breath, rubbed my fingers over my left sleeve, and closed my eyes. Just for the tiniest of moments.

Maybe it'll all be fine, I tried telling myself. Maybe it'll be just fine.

I could definitely do this. It was just like all the other times I'd been with Michael and Alyssa. I'd endured years, I could go through one more night.

I had a small, strained smile on my lips by the time I made it inside the fancy diner, let one of the employees direct me towards the table Alyssa had reserved under her name, and relaxed just a little when I saw her, watched the relieved smile on her own face as she saw me.

It's going to be fine. "Hey," I greeted, looking from Alyssa and then to a smug-smiling Michael seated beside her.

"You made it!" Alyssa jumped up from her seat to envelop me in a hug. Pulling back she grabbed my arms gently and looked me up and down, grinning. "Gosh, I knew you'd look amazing in baby pink."

I gave her a hesitant smile, hoped she didn't see the reluctance, and said, "And you look beautiful as always, Alyssa." She did, in a silk blue dress that I think she'd bought from the same shop. She looked happy, most of all.

Alyssa had only just pulled away when Michael was there in front of me, holding his arms out for an embrace just like Alyssa, only that there was no relief I felt within me now. Just dread. Pure dreadful panic.

"You're a whole five minutes late, Alice." He said although he was grinning with teasing humor.

I stiffened anxiously, keeping the hug short and pulling away the next second, trying my hardest to not make it seem awkward. "I got caught up in traffic," I replied sheepishly.

Alyssa gestured at me to take any of the two empty chairs in front of her and Michael, and I would've sat right across from her--I needed to have some distance between Michael and I--but then Michael was pulling out the chair across from him, for me, and I had to take it.

"Thanks," I whispered with this choked-up feeling in my throat--something that felt an awful lot like pure, unadulterated panic.

"Where's that boyfriend of yours?" He asked, looking around and behind me. Then his eyes settled on mine and he smirked. "Don't tell me he already upped and left you? You deserve better than that, Alice."

Alyssa frowned and smacked him lightheartedly on the shoulder.

I swallowed, fidgeting with the hem of my dress and splaying it just past my knees. "No, he didn't. He's just--"

My phone buzzed and my heart nearly lurched out of my chest in that moment--in utter relief when I saw that I'd received a text from Ryder.

"Excuse me," I murmured, opened it, and read the words typed out before me approximately six times before even thinking of giving into the relief.

I'll be there, the text read.

"He's going to be here in a bit." I looked up at them, at Alyssa, and couldn't help the grin on my face. In relief. Joy. Just the tiniest of escapes from what laid ahead.

She must've seen it on my face, everything on my face that must've been pretty obvious at that moment, since she smiled herself--a soft thing that warmed my core--and reached forward to squeeze one of my hands. "I'm glad. We'll order drinks till Soren arrives and then the food, yeah?"

I nodded, couldn't help but glance at Michael, and saw him watching me.

"You did tell him it's a date, didn't you?" He asked, cocking his head to the side in an almost teasing and mocking gesture. "You'd expect your boyfriend to drive you here instead of, you know, coming here individually?"

I looked at Alyssa and she had that questioning glint in her eyes too.

"He had something with work come up," I answered.

Work. I didn't even know what Ryder did for work. An expensive penthouse, expensive cars, and his father was across states--someone dangerous whom Ryder hadn't seemed keen to elaborate on and tell me more about. I didn't know anything else about him. What if Alyssa or Michael asked me questions about him? Was I to lie my way through them? Tell them things based on the real Soren even though...even though Ryder wasn't Soren?

God, this was messed up. I should've come clean with them, with Alyssa at least. Trying to avoid something just because you cared for the people around you only seemed to ruin things even further. There was no point in lying. Yet I still kept doing it. I sometimes didn't know--couldn't see the other options.

I didn't know how I'd cope with telling the truth sometimes.

Thankfully enough, there weren't any more questions about Ryder--or Soren. Alyssa ordered a bottle of Bordeaux, the waiter pouring it into each of our wine glasses, before the atmosphere dissolved into reminiscing stories from our childhood.

I felt myself relax more and more as seconds ticked by, laughing softly and nodding along to the stories Alyssa told. It even got to a pleasant point so far from reality that I thought it was just her and me here and no Michael between us.

It was a good place to be in. A good, fine moment. But those kind of moments--they also made you forget that they didn't last. The good ones never did.

"You guys remember that time we went to that old bowling alley a town over?" Alyssa spoke up and broke into laughter. "Remy and Jade were there too. It was so much fun! I almost broke one of my fucking fingers on that sparkly bowling ball."

I nodded and watched Michael quietly sipping his wine.

"Wait, but I still don't get where you went afterwards, Alice." She sighed, laughs and smiles sobering up. "Didn't you say you had homework to finish and left with Michael? But you weren't at home when the rest of us arrived. Where'd you go?"

Michael shuffled in his seat. "Yeah, Alice, where were you? I'd dropped you home, hadn't I?"

My eyes darted from him and to Alyssa and it was on the tip of my tongue--for the first time, I didn't want to lie right to Alyssa's face. I wanted to say it--tell her that Michael had left me all alone in the middle of nowhere--grown cross with me and told me to get the hell out of his car. I wanted to speak the truth. But the deep flare of honesty, the desperation to just say it, went away as quickly as it had arrived when I felt, more than saw, a warm press of a foot nudging against mine under the table.

Warmth that felt like dirt crawled over my skin and I froze, felt Michael's shoe brush up against the bare skin of my ankle and I opened my mouth. Words fell from my lips too easily, "I...I don't really remember."

Alyssa frowned just a little. "You all right?"

No, no, God, why can't she see? Why can't I say it? I tried swallowing past the horrifying, sickening lump in my throat, jerked my feet away from Michael's reach as discreetly as I could've, and nodded again.

Alyssa didn't seem like she believed me but then her eyes drifted behind me and over my shoulder, widening before she grinned brightly. "Oh, Soren's here!"

I blinked rapidly, pulling my too-tight grip away from the edges of my seat, and turned around just in time to see Ryder, all clad in another one of his sleek, expensive black suits, as he walked towards us.

A soft breath of relief escaped my lips and I scrambled up from my chair, turning wholly towards him. He slowed as he neared us--me--eyes finding mine and then darting behind me, and I think the waiter who'd showed him our table said something, but it went unheard by me. In that one, long moment, I had eyes only for him. And I didn't--couldn't--didn't want to look away.

Because it was relief and fear and panic and safety and reassurance. So different from one another. My solace.

And then he was there, right there in front of me, leaning close with his hand slipping past the front of my jacket, resting along my waist as he murmured, "hey," and pressed the softest of kisses along my cheek--just the barest of inches away from my lips.

The reality around me stuttered, glowed, and bloomed with relief and safety and the strongest feeling of want. Yearning. Love.

I blinked, taken aback, and then Ryder was letting an excited Alyssa greet him with a hug, all polite and careful and nodding along to what she said, and maybe he shook hands with Michael but I didn't see. I was only too stuck at the feel of his lips on my cheek, the heat of his hand brushing past my waist, him just being here when I'd maybe have crumbled otherwise.

Ryder sat down beside me and I did too, gathering myself and tuning into the conversation before any of them could notice that I'd sort of just...blanked out.

Or my mind had. My heart was feeling quite the opposite of it; it was racing so fast. So fucking giddily.

"This is amazing. I'm so happy you both could make it." Alyssa smiled so happily that I couldn't help but give her one of my own. I tried to ignore the elated pang in my heart then. "You both missed out on the camping trip, though maybe that had been for the best. Did I tell you about the coyotes and the mosquitoes, Alice?"

I managed to feign interest in the conversation then, and felt shame welling inside me at that too. Minutes ticked by, the waiter arrived and asked us if we'd decided on what to order yet, and then all of a sudden, there were different testers of wines and cheeses and I wondered if it was the wine finally getting to my head. I hadn't drunk enough, yet I felt tipsy and on the edge, zoning out from the constant chatter of conversation. I kept glancing at Ryder beside me, and he looked so himself--so relaxed and leaning back in his chair, nodding along to what Alyssa was saying and rolling the crystal stem of his wine glass between his fingers. And I wanted--God, I wanted to hold his hand.

I wanted him to reach for me, for my hand, and hold onto it.

I was quite possibly going insane with that single urge.

Blinking away from him and Alyssa, I wiped my clammy hands on my thighs and glanced at Michael. He was staring at me, surreptitiously tipping his own glass towards me before inhaling the rest of his wine in one go.

I grimaced and couldn't help but notice this was his third glass. Instead of drinking mine, I pushed it aside.

"I need to ask this. Please don't think I'm being nosy, but I am your sister, Alice, and I've got a right to know how you two met?" Alyssa asked, splaying her hands on the table and grinning at us, looking so incredibly hopeful as if she expected me to relay a fairytale meet-cute right in front of her. As if she expected the absolute best.

How was I to tell her that the first time I'd met Ryder hadn't been anything good?

I couldn't because I didn't want to see her sad. So I lied. Because Ryder wasn't Ryder to her anyway--he was Soren.

And it felt wrong, so incredibly wrong, because I didn't want him to be Soren right now, or ever in front of Alyssa and the rest of my family. I wanted to introduce him as Ryder. I wanted this to be real. It was a slow, heavy realization, but it hurt just the same as rocks being hurled at me, at my heart, at a speed too fast.

I wanted this to not be a pretend relationship.

I wanted this, all of this, to be real.

Oh no, Alice, a voice whispered in my head, you're falling. So. Fast.

Ryder looked at me then, blue eyes glinting under the candlelights as they slowly trailed around my face, and I think he was asking me to answer this one question but I couldn't stop looking at him--thinking about him--wanting him even when he was so close--that I spoke words that were only the truth,

"I was lost." I looked up into his eyes just for the briefest of moments before meeting Alyssa's gaze. I smiled pretty helplessly. "He saved me."

Alyssa wasn't the least bit convinced with just that, so I gave her scattered details, bits and pieces that I made up because I couldn't give her the whole truth. At least it wasn't all a lie.

I'd been scared and lost and needed to escape and just when I'd thought no one would be there for me, Ryder had arrived and he'd saved me when he could've gone to anyone else first--to anyone else more important.

He'd found me.

I had found him.

Alyssa laughed and leaned her head affectionately into Michael's shoulder. "I'm so happy we're here, guys." Her expression softened as she pressed the side of her face against Michael's arm. Michael smiled, strained, and took a huge gulp from his glass. "I know I keep saying that but we don't get to do this a lot. You know, just--hang out. Michael and I are too busy with wedding preparations and work and his family moving from New York, and you're always too far away from reach, Alice."

I glanced down at my hands and curled them between my thighs.

"You're family," Alyssa was mostly looking at me, but then she glanced at Ryder and added, "You too now, Soren. And I don't want you guys to forget that."

"They might if you cry on it, babe." Michael nudged her gently and she laughed, dabbing her eyes, and I smiled despite the lump in my throat. Smiled because this was it.

She was so, so happy.

And I was scared.

I glanced at Ryder, swallowed when I noticed him already staring at me and watched as he tipped his head just a little to the side, almost unnoticeable, and then he was uncurling his fingers, reaching out and--

"When are you visiting home, Alice?" Michael asked, voice too sharp for the soft atmosphere, breaking the peaceful silence.

I jerked my head towards him and couldn't help but notice how he didn't add Ryder to his question like Alyssa kept doing. And it wasn't just this. I knew and I'd seen and tried to ignore how he avoided even so much as glancing at Ryder. Only did so when his lips were curled in distaste, anger, and with that fire brimming in his eyes. And he kept drinking the wine and hiding it all from everyone.

But I saw it still. I knew what he looked like when he was angry. It scared me.

"Soon, I think." I replied, hesitated, then added, "As soon as I can."

Alyssa smiled, Ryder shifted in his seat, and then his hand was nudging mine--a warm, heavy weight brushing along the hem of my dress, the bare skin of my thigh, and finding my wrist.

Only when he'd laced his fingers with mine, thumb caressing the inside of my palm, did I feel the crescent-marked shapes of my own nails digging into my skin. He traced over them. I shivered.

I looked up at him, then at Alyssa and Michael, and another small shiver ran down my spine.

It was pure torture. It was pure need. I wanted--

"The dessert will be here in a few minutes." The waiter arrived and started gathering our plates. "It will be a short wait, ma'am. Gentlemen."

It was a small distraction but enough for Ryder to lean close to my ear, lips brushing the shell of it, and he whispered, "I've got men around the street, querida. If they see Santiago, they'll get to him first. You have no reason to be worried, okay?"

I pulled back half an inch, turned to look at him, and my eyes flickered down to his lips. I nodded, eyes wide.

Did he even know what he was doing to me? Did he not know how badly he threw me off balance sometimes? Did he not see--feel the need I carried for him? The need to know him and see him and feel him. The need for him to tell me that he'd always be there to catch me when I fell.

But he will be there, I told myself a little pathetically. He'd always been there before. And I needed to tell him exactly that, right now, right here--how I really felt about him, about an us, before this too became a lie I couldn't escape from.

"I...excuse me." I pushed back my chair, and my gaze darted from Ryder to Alyssa and back to Ryder--because I absolutely refused to look at Michael right at this moment when I was carrying feelings so sweet and lovely inside me for the first time in so long--for the one person who sat the closest to me right now. I reluctantly pulled my hand away from Ryder's and said, "Need to use the restroom. I'll be back."

Only when I was inside the restroom, thankful to notice that it was empty, that I exhaled sharply and pressed my back to one of the pristine white sinks. I couldn't help but tremble.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." I whispered to myself, laughed, and pressed my hands to my mouth to muffle it. Fuck.

I just had to complicate things, didn't I? The feelings inside me were too much, too fast, too important. I didn't want to dismiss them. I wanted Ryder to be here. I wanted to tell him. God, how badly I wanted him to tell me that he felt it too. Just even a bit of it?

How bad was it that I knew right then, realized that I needed to tell him about everything, come clean with him about why Santiago was after me in the first place, before I told him anything about my feelings? How bad was it that I wished to tell him about this, about Michael, before I even told Alyssa?

I was in too deep.

It was the most beautiful, most openly vulnerable feeling ever.

I don't know how long I stood there, shaking and then not shaking, because I felt happy and elated and I didn't know--didn't care if this was the right time. All I knew was that I needed to speak with Ryder first before anyone else.

I looked up into the mirror, took in an encouraging breath, and briefly glanced at the reflection of the small window on the other side of the restroom. Streetlights glowed and car lights drove by and then it was dark--a stark reflection of the night sky.

I'd only just finished psyching myself up, just taken a step towards the door, when it was pushed open from the other side.

I don't know why in that one, short moment I expected to see Ryder's face there. To be here, to have followed me here, and things would be so easy then, right?

But no. No, things weren't easy. They never were. They were messy and full of flaws and mistakes and Michael.

It was Michael stepping inside the restroom and pushing the door firmly closed behind him. It was Michael, not Ryder.

I inhaled sharply, almost choked on my own breath, and then I was heading for the door handle, running for it because I was suddenly not feeling so elated anymore and I needed to get out. This is--this was exactly what had happened in that shop, the changing room, and I'd been a fool and hadn't escaped. I didn't want to start thinking about it and I didn't want a repeat.

Michael grabbed my arm in a bruising grip and he yanked me away so harshly that I had a feeling he wanted to rip my arm out of its socket. "Not leaving until I say so, Alice. You are not fucking leaving until I say so."

I froze. The grasp of terror on me was paralyzing.

"Let go," I whispered, then tried snatching my arm away. "Let go, Michael! You can't--You can't be serious. They're right outside! E-Everyone is. They're outside!"

His lips twisted in a sneer, in sickening anger, and his breath reeked of too much wine. And then he was shoving me around, twisting my arm painfully behind my back before he slammed my front into the wall. I winced and held in the sharp, painful gasp that tried to escape my lips.

"We can be quiet, can't we?" He snapped and pressed close behind me. "I know you can be. And I'll be very, very quick."

White, blinding terror gripped my insides and I realized too late I was shaking my head frantically, pleas escaping my lips because I knew what was happening, but I didn't want this. Not this. Not now.

"Don't, don't, don't." I tried to fight his deathly hold, squeezed my eyes close and tried to shove him off me. "Get off! G-Get off me!"

He grunted, twisted me around again, face to face, and slammed his hand over my mouth, pressing and pressing until the back of my head dug painfully into the wall behind me, until my chin was tipped up and until his lips were latched to the underside of my jaw, nipping and kissing his way down.

I dug the heels of my palms into his shoulders, tried hitting him and fighting him off--God, I needed him off--but he wouldn't budge--why wouldn't he budge?

And then all too fast, I was breathing too fast, panicking, and it felt like I wasn't in my own skin because everything was too hot, sticky, dirty, and Michael's teeth were on my neck and I couldn't breathe. He wasn't letting me go. He wasn't letting me go!

I needed to breathe.

God, I couldn't breathe.

"Get...off...me." I gasped, shuddered and a dry, aching sob left my lips when his hand was once again muffling my words, pressing against my lips, and his hips dug into mine a little too painfully, the other hand hitching my dress up and up and up--

"Break up with your boyfriend, Alice. Soon. I don't like you with anyone else." He said, breathing hotly against my neck, fingers digging into my waist and slipping past the elastic waist of my panties, and it's too much. I'm escaping into my head because it's too much--suddenly too much. "I only like you with me, that is how it's fucking supposed to be--"

And then I saw him. I think I was hallucinating. I wasn't breathing properly and my head was swimming. I think I was stuck in a nightmare that was too real to be just a dream, because I could see his reflection in the mirror. Santiago. Behind the restroom window and looking at us, me, from the mirror. I could see his gas mask. I could see him.

I'm falling--I'm not here--I can't move--I don't want to move.

And then everything fell and shattered and broke into a billion tiny pieces.

Each one hurt because each one shattered loose and pierced my already bleeding heart.

"You will--" Michael growled low, too low, but then the door flew open with a loud bang. One second, two, and then Michael was on the other side of the restroom and there was something, someone hereherehere, but I wasn't sure. I was on the floor. I couldn't move because I could see Alyssa near the door.

One, two--I thought I heard a shouted, pained curse. Blood. Shatter of glass. One of the broken pieces landed near my feet. I looked at it and it was stained with blood.

"You fucking bastard," words growled out with so much pure, murderous intent. I blinked and I could see Ryder. He was holding a mostly limp Michael by his collar and then he was slamming him face first on the marble sink, and there was red. So much red.

And Alyssa. And the look on her face--I can't. I can't. I can't.

I blinked and I blinked and I tried to focus because I had to explain because Alyssa and Ryder had seen it happening, didn't they, and I had to get up from the floor and stop this. Stop it. Please.

"S-Soren, Soren!" Alyssa moved from the doorway, rushed towards Ryder, tried to get him to stop killing Michael. Because that's what he was doing. He wasn't stopping. "Stop it! Stop!"

Michael didn't look like he was breathing. His belt was unbuckled. I curled my trembling hands and tried to hide them behind me because I saw his shirt stained with blood, but his belt was unbuckled. He'd done that when he'd been pinning me to the wall.

I looked at Ryder. His face wasn't a mask of rage, because anyone could see it. He was really going to kill Michael.

"What's happening--Oh my God!" A waitress came rushing into the restroom. "Ma'am, sir--"

"Soren, let go of him!" Alyssa was pleading now, eyes wide and voice filled with anguish, because she could see and I could see that Michael was bleeding too much now.

Ryder shoved him into the wall. "I'm going to fucking kill you!" He gritted out, grabbing him by the neck, "You're going to wish you never, never fucking touched--"

The waitress rushed out to call for help. I scrambled up, stumbled towards them on weak, useless legs, and Alyssa looked at me, looked right through me, asking me to stop this if I can't fix it--can't when I'm the one who's ruined it--and I still couldn't breathe properly but I managed to push myself between Michael and Ryder. And I didn't want to be between them. My hands were cold, so cold, shaking--scared.

"R-Ryder," I whispered, hands numb and grabbing for him--his shirt, his sleeve. "Ryder. Ryder, stop. Please. P-Please."

And he didn't stop but he heard me, eyes dark and murderous and so out of control. So uncomposed. So unrestrained. But he listened to me. He was staring at me with something in his eyes, on his face, that was too cold. Too wild. Too dangerous.

He was looking at me the same way Alyssa did. He's looking right through me.

I tried to push him back, away from Michael. He held his ground and snarled, "Get out of my way."

I shook my head. I was shaking. I tried to tell him to let go, but everything was happening too fast and I couldn't speak. Speak, say something, Alice. Speak, speak, speak. Fix this.

"Get him out of here, Alice!" Alyssa was shouting and she was kneeling down beside an unconscious Michael. Her eyes were wide, bloodshot, empty. "Get out!"

"I..." I shook my head at her.

Ryder growled out a series of murderous curses behind me and I could see, feel my vision blackening. It feels. It feels like I'm dying.

I think I said something. No one heard it. I didn't hear it either.

Everything was falling apart.

"Ryder." I managed to get it out. He heard it this time. I managed to get it past the fury in his eyes and his bloodied fists.

He was there then, I don't know why. He started speaking to me. Told me to breathe. His hands on my face, maneuvering me away from Michael and Alyssa and telling me to please breathe for me, querida. But I couldn't. I can't. I can't.

"Leave." That's Alyssa. I looked at her because I couldn't not. I needed her to speak to me like I needed to breathe in the air right now to stop myself from dying. But she wasn't looking at me. She was looking at Ryder. "Get out. Leave. Get her out!"

"A-Alyssa--"

"I don't need you here, Alice!" She snapped, voice cracking. "You've done enough! Please just leave."

And then Ryder was dragging me out, not because I think he was worried about getting caught between the restaurant staff and their questions and maybe even the police, but because he could maybe see that I was dying because I couldn't feel anything.

We were outside then. He held onto my face, cradled it between his torn and bruised hands, and he pressed his forehead to mine, keeping it there until both our breathing syncs together. Until I could breathe.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. Again and again and again.

But even if I could breathe, it was the furthest from alive I felt right then.