Meadow's POV
The first thing Tyler did was take my sister.
Not physically.
Not yet.
He took her voice.
I knew something was wrong the moment I woke up.
The apartment was too quiet, not the neutral, polished silence I'd grown accustomed to, but the kind that felt staged. Artificial. Like the pause before something broke.
My phone sat on the nightstand where I'd left it, screen dark. No missed calls. No messages.
That alone was enough to make my chest tighten.
My sister never went more than twelve hours without calling me. Not since the wedding fell apart. Not since Tyler. Even when we were angry at each other, there had always been noise. Arguments. Defensiveness. Tears.
Silence was new.
And silence was never accidental.
I rolled onto my side and checked the time. Just after seven. Too early to panic. Too early to assume the worst.
Still, my fingers hovered over her name before I tapped it.
It rang once.
Twice.
Straight to voicemail.
I frowned and tried again. Same result.
A cold thread slid down my spine.
I sat up, pulling the blanket around my shoulders, suddenly hyperaware of the locked bedroom door across the hall. Of the security system humming quietly behind the walls. Of the fact that I was safe here in a way my sister had never asked to be.
I opened our last text exchange.
Call me when you wake up, okay?
Love you.
Unread.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Unknown number.
My heart slammed painfully against my ribs.
Good morning, Meadow.
The words stared back at me, polite and casual and unmistakably wrong.
I didn't respond.
Another message came almost immediately.
You didn't block unknown numbers. Smart. That tells me you're still open to conversation.
My breath came shallow now.
What do you want? I typed, fingers shaking.
The reply took longer this time. Calculated.
To clear up a misunderstanding.
I laughed out loud, the sound brittle and sharp in the quiet apartment.
You've been misunderstanding my life for years, I sent it back. What's new?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Reappeared.
"Your sister is upset."
Ice flooded my veins.
"Where is she?"
Several seconds passed. Each one stretched thin as wire.
With me.
I was out of bed before my brain caught up, pacing the length of the bedroom, my bare feet silent against the floor.
You don't get to do this, I typed. You don't get to use her.
Use is such an ugly word, Tyler replied. I prefer "protect."
My stomach turned.
From what? I demanded.
From the consequences of your choices.
I stopped pacing.
This isn't about me, I wrote. This is about you stealing money and finally getting caught.
Another pause.
Longer this time.
You think Ashford told you everything?
My chest tightened.
He told me enough.
Of course he did, Tyler replied. He always does that. Gives just enough truth to make himself look honest.
My pulse roared in my ears.
Let her go, I typed. If you have something to say, say it to me.
The typing indicator blinked.
Stopped.
Then:
That depends.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, my knees suddenly weak.
On what?
On whether you're still under the impression that you get to play both sides.
My breath hitched.
You don't get to threaten me, I typed. Not anymore.
Tyler's reply came instantly.
You brought Ashford into this. You made it public. That changes the rules.
My hand curled into the blanket.
You changed the rules when you lied, I shot back.
Another message followed before I could think better of it.
You always were naïve, Meadow. I loved that about you.
Revulsion crawled up my throat.
Don't contact me again, I wrote. This is your last warning.
The reply came slow. Deliberate.
We'll see.
Then, finally:
Dinner. Tonight. Eight o'clock. You come alone.
My blood went cold.
No, I typed.
The dots appeared.
If you don't come, Tyler replied, your sister stays.
I stared at the screen until the words blurred.
You don't get to do this, I whispered to the empty room.
But Tyler Cross had never cared about what he got to do.
Only about what he could get away with.
I didn't call Alaric immediately.
That was the most terrifying part.
Somewhere deep inside me, a reckless, desperate instinct reared up, the part of me that still wanted to fix things myself. The part that had spent years smoothing over Tyler's sharp edges, explaining away his temper, carrying the emotional weight so no one else had to.
If you involve Ashford, Tyler had implied, she pays the price.
I hated that he still knew how to corner me.
I paced the apartment, my thoughts spiraling. If I went alone, I'd be walking straight into a trap. If I didn't go, my sister…
The phone vibrated again.
A photo.
My breath left my body in a rush.
My sister sat on a couch I didn't recognize, her hands clenched in her lap, her face pale. Her eyes were red, swollen, terrified.
Alive.
For now.
That was enough.
I called Alaric.
He answered on the first ring.
"Where are you?" he asked calmly.
My voice broke. "He has my sister."
Silence.
Not a shock.
Calculation.
"Start from the beginning," Alaric said.
I did. Every message. Every threat. Every carefully chosen word Tyler had used to box me in.
When I finished, my hands were shaking so badly I had to sit down.
Alaric exhaled slowly.
"He moved faster than I expected," he said.
"That's all you have to say?" I snapped, panic edging into anger.
"No," he replied evenly. "That's all I have to say out loud."
I squeezed my eyes shut. "He wants me to meet him. Alone."
"He doesn't," Alaric corrected. "He wants to see if you'll try."
My stomach twisted. "I can't risk her."
"I know."
The weight behind those two words startled me.
"I'm going," I said. "You can't stop me."
Another pause.
Then, carefully, "I'm not going to."
I opened my eyes. "What?"
"You're not wrong," Alaric continued. "This isn't a negotiation. He's testing boundaries."
"Then what do we do?" I demanded.
"We let him think he's winning."
Fear and relief collided painfully in my chest.
"That means I go," I said.
"Yes."
"And I'm not alone," I added.
"No," Alaric agreed. "You're not."
"But he said…"
"Tyler doesn't dictate my involvement," Alaric said calmly. "He only thinks he does."
I swallowed hard. "What if he hurts her?"
Alaric's voice dropped, steel threading through it.
"Then Tyler Cross ceases to exist in any way that matters."
The finality in his tone sent a shiver through me.
By eight o'clock, I was ready.
Not because I felt brave.
Because fear had burned itself into focus.
Alaric didn't accompany me to the door. He didn't offer reassurances or empty promises. He simply handed me a phone, sleek, unfamiliar.
"Keep this on you," he said. "You won't see me. You won't hear me. But I'll be there."
"That doesn't make me feel better," I said quietly.
"It shouldn't," he replied. "It should make you feel protected."
The restaurant Tyler chose was dimly lit and intentionally private. The kind of place meant for conversations that weren't meant to be overheard.
Tyler was already seated when I arrived.
He stood as I approached, his smile smooth, practiced, wrong.
"Meadow," he said warmly. "You look well."
I ignored him. "Where is she?"
He gestured toward the back hallway. "Safe. For now."
My nails dug into my palms. "Let her go."
He chuckled softly. "Sit."
I did.
"You've changed," he said, studying me. "There's an edge to you now."
"That's what happens when people stop lying to themselves," I replied.
His smile faltered for just a second.
"Ah," he said. "Ashford."
The way he said Alaric's name was like a curse, telling me everything.
"You think he's on your side," Tyler continued. "That he's protecting you."
"He is," I said.
Tyler leaned forward. "No. He's owning you."
Anger flared hot and sharp. "You don't get to talk about ownership."
"Don't I?" he asked quietly. "You're living on his property. Wearing his choices. Playing his role."
My pulse spiked, but I didn't look away.
"I chose this," I said.
Tyler laughed. "You always say that. Right before you disappear inside someone else's plans."
He reached into his jacket and placed something on the table between us.
A phone.
"Call him," Tyler said softly. "Let's see how honest he really is."
My stomach dropped.
"He won't answer," Tyler added. "Not while you're here."
I stared at the phone, dread coiling tight in my chest.
"Do it," Tyler urged.
I didn't move.
Behind me, unseen, unheard, I felt it, the quiet, suffocating certainty that Alaric Ashford was already ten steps ahead.
And Tyler?