Throughout the flight, Maximilian did not let go of her hand.

Catherine leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder, the steady warmth of him grounding her in a way nothing else could. The hum of the aircraft filled the silence around them, low and constant, but her thoughts were anything but calm.

"You think it’s Dorian?" she asked quietly.

The question lingered between them, heavier than it sounded.

If it were Jonathan, this would be simpler and predictable, almost. But Dorian...

Her fingers tightened slightly in his grasp.

If it was Dorian, then this wasn’t just about Bernice. It was about everything and everyone she loved.

It was about her.

And that realization brought something colder with it.

Her palms turned clammy, her breath catching just a fraction as memories she had long buried began to stir—unwelcome, vivid in ways she hated. The suffocating weight of that past life, the way she had walked into that tent knowing exactly what was expected of her, knowing what he wanted... and how powerless she had felt in that moment. The memory pressed too close.

Too real.

And it tangled with another—Hilbert Calhoun. That same helplessness. That same sense of being cornered with no way out.

Catherine’s grip tightened further, almost unconsciously seeking reassurance, anchoring herself to something real. To him.

"No matter what..." Her voice lowered, steadier than she felt. "Stop me from ever walking toward him again."

It wasn’t a request.

It was a plea wrapped in quiet resolve.

Maximilian didn’t hesitate.

He leaned down and pressed a firm, grounding kiss to her head, his hand closing more securely around hers. "You’re not going anywhere near him, Catherine," he said, his voice calm, but carrying a certainty that didn’t waver. "I won’t let you out of my sight."

He felt the tension in her, the way her body had gone just slightly rigid despite how close she was to him. And he understood enough of Dorian to know this fear wasn’t exaggerated.

Catherine protected.

Dorian destroyed.

And destruction was always easier.

He knew that better than most.

Hadn’t he done the same once?

The thought flickered through him, sharp and unwelcome, but he didn’t let it surface. Not now. Not when she needed him steady.

"Don’t," Catherine murmured softly.

It wasn’t entirely clear what she meant, whether she was asking him not to think, not to drift, not to leave her alone with her thoughts, but her fingers tightened again around his hand, and that was enough.

Maximilian shifted his grip slightly, his thumb brushing over the bracelet at her wrist, tracing it with quiet familiarity.

That bracelet. A promise. A memory that stretched across lifetimes.

He closed his eyes briefly, not in retreat, but in decision.

A vow, silent and unbreakable.

"I’ve already informed Sebastian," he said after a moment, his voice gentler now, meant to ease rather than overwhelm. "Even when he’s drunk, he’ll be faster than most when it comes to surveillance. And your brother’s men know exactly how to handle something like this."

His thumb continued its slow, reassuring movement against her wrist.

"So don’t let your mind run too far ahead," he added softly. "There’s a good chance Bernice will be found before we even land in Meridon."

Catherine exhaled, long and quiet, some of the tension easing from her shoulders, though not entirely.

"I hope so..." she murmured.

And this time, she leaned into him just a little more, as if holding onto that hope required something solid to rest against.

Something that wouldn’t let her fall.

And with her hand in his, she hoped to believe everything would be resolved well.

-----

The moment the jet touched down, both Catherine and Maximilian reached for their phones, the shift from waiting to action happening almost instinctively. The cabin still carried the low hum of landing, the faint pressure in the air not yet settled—but Catherine was already ahead of it, her screen lighting up before she had fully registered her surroundings.

"They found her," she said, her voice quick, tightly controlled. "A warehouse near the harbor."

Relief tried to surface.

It didn’t last.

The images followed immediately, and Catherine’s gaze locked onto them, her breath slowing, not out of calm, but focus sharpening into something colder. The same white van. The same men. Bernice with her face covered with a black cloth, and her hands bound behind her back, was being dragged forward without care, without pause.

Toward a ship.

Not one in use, not anything operational, but something abandoned, rusted through, its structure hollow and lifeless as though it had long been forgotten by the world.

Catherine’s fingers tightened around her phone.

Anger rose first, sharp and immediate, settling deep in her chest as she watched Bernice struggle in silence. There was something about seeing her restrained and reduced, felt deeply wrong in a way Catherine couldn’t ignore.

But even through that anger, her mind did not stop working.

Something about this was off.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she forced herself to look past the emotion and into the pattern. If this had been Dorian, it would have been precisely controlled down to the smallest detail. There would be no carelessness, no visible roughness like this. And more importantly... he would have already contacted her.

Dorian didn’t wait.

He made his presence known.

This...whatever this was... lacked that certainty.

So then... Jonathan?

The thought came, but it didn’t sit right either. Jonathan was impulsive and reactive. He would have called, demanded, tried to assert control through noise rather than silence.

Unless...

Was he waiting for her to break first?

Catherine’s grip tightened slightly at the thought, but even that didn’t fully convince her. The pieces refused to align, each possibility falling just short of certainty.

"Duncan says they’re already in position," she said, her voice quieter now, steadier as she forced herself into clarity. "They’re waiting for my word."

So Bernice was still there.

Still within reach.

Safe... for now.

And yet, instead of relief, a strange unease settled deeper within her. The situation wasn’t stabilizing. It was becoming harder to read.

Beside her, Maximilian had gone still in a different way, not focused on the images, but on something else entirely.

"Sebastian got a ransom message," he said.

The words landed with a weight that shifted everything.

Catherine turned to him, her brows drawing together, the confusion sharpening into something more alert, more dangerous. "Sebastian?" she repeated, the name sitting oddly in this equation. "Is this... an enemy of his?"

The question lingered between them, but now it carried a different kind of tension, one that hinted this situation was no longer just tangled.

It was layered.

"Let’s get there first," Maximilian said, his tone steady, already shifting into action rather than speculation.

Catherine nodded, her thoughts still moving too quickly to settle, but focused enough to follow his lead.

"Send me the location. I’ll forward it to Sebastian," he added.

She unlocked her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen, but then she paused.

A flicker of hesitation crossed her face, subtle but real.

"We shouldn’t tell him just yet," she said, her voice quieter now, more measured. "He’s not in the right state. If he rushes in like this..."

She didn’t finish the thought, but it lingered between them.

Sebastian, being emotional, was not in control.

And right now, control mattered.

Maximilian watched her for a moment, weighing her words against his own instincts. A part of him resisted immediately. Something about this situation still felt off, layered in ways they hadn’t fully uncovered yet. If Dorian was involved, even peripherally, then every move Catherine made would already be under observation. Her return to Meridon would not go unnoticed.

And Sebastian... for all his brilliance, was not someone to be left out when the situation revolved around him.

But Catherine’s concern wasn’t misplaced.

In the end, he exhaled softly and gave a slight nod.

"Alright," he said. "For now."

They chose a taxi instead of anything more conspicuous, blending into the city rather than announcing their presence.

After a while, Maximilian spoke again, his gaze shifting briefly to her wrist.

"It might help if they remembered," he said. "Their past lives. The bracelet... it worked for Alexander."

Catherine followed his gaze, her fingers instinctively brushing over the bracelet.

She knew he was right.

And yet...

"No," she said.

The refusal came without hesitation.

Maximilian turned to her, surprised by how firmly she rejected it. "Why not?" he asked. "It could help them."

Catherine met his gaze directly, her expression steady, but there was something deeper beneath it.

"Because if Sebastian remembers..." she said quietly, "he’ll kill you."

"I tried to do the same," she continued, her voice softer now, but no less resolute. "He was my knight. Loyal. Unyielding. And once he set his mind on something... he never let it go."

Her fingers tightened slightly against her lap.

"He would succeed."

For a brief moment, silence settled between them.

Then Maximilian let out a soft, almost disbelieving chuckle. "For you?" he asked, something warm threading through the amusement, as though the idea didn’t unsettle him as much as it should have.

There was something almost... reassuring in it.

That she would protect him even from those who once belonged to her.

"He won’t do that," he said, shaking his head lightly. "Not now."

But Catherine didn’t waver.

"I’m not taking that chance."

The finality in her tone left little room for argument.

Maximilian studied her for a moment longer before sighing softly, letting it go, for now.

The taxi slowed. They had arrived.

The harbor loomed ahead, dimly lit, the air thick with salt and rust and something heavier beneath it. Duncan was already there, waiting, but he wasn’t alone.

Catherine’s gaze shifted, her steps slowing just slightly.

"Sebastian?" she said under her breath.

Maximilian followed her line of sight and gave a faint shake of his head, a quiet acknowledgment. "I told you," he murmured. "He’s different when it comes to things like this."

They didn’t approach immediately.

Instead, they watched.

The ship stood ahead of them, silent and decaying, its structure outlined against the dim lights of the harbor. And then...

A figure stepped out onto the deck, as though they had been expecting this moment.

Catherine’s breath stilled.

The person reached up, removing the mask that had concealed their face.

And for a second... the world seemed to narrow around that single reveal.