Chapter 454

The girl rolls her eyes again, waving a dismissive hand at the Prince and the super hot Alpha. “Whatever, lie all you want, I get the picture.” She turns and begins to walk away, giving them both a wink over her shoulder as she goes. “Come find me if you ever change your mind!”

“Damn, you really pull them in,” Rafe says, standing straight and grinning at Jackson. “You’d have made a good wingman in high school.”

“Trust me,” Jackson says, dry. “I wouldn’t have.”

“Hey, so, are we done here?” Mark asks, looking anxiously towards the door. Jackson frowns at him because…what does Mark have to be worried about?

“Yeah,” Jesse says, coming over with Ben, slipping his hands guiltily in his pockets. “I thought I’d be more fun tonight but…I can’t stop thinking about Mids all alone in that yurt. You guys want to head back? We could continue drinking there if –“

“Nah, I gotta go…find Maryam,” Rafe says on a sigh. “Try to apologize even if…god, even if she’s probably going to make me flip out again. Let’s go!”

Rafe slaps some cash on the bar for the drinks, including a generous tip, and then the group heads out. The car ride home is nice, cheerful and chatty, full of jokes. But Jackson mostly sits quietly, his mind on the girl who he hopes is waiting for him in their room. He can’t decide, honestly, if he wants to hear all about her day first or…

Just tear all her clothes off.

When they disembark at the palace steps a little later, Jackson has to admit that he’s leaning towards the latter.

The group starts up the steps together, laughing at one of Jesse’s jokes.

But Jackson turns suddenly, towards where his name is shouted behind him. His wolf immediately leaps to his feet because –

Jackson knows that voice. Would know it anywhere – heard it every day for the first twenty-three years of his life –

Jackson’s eyes immediately fasten on the figure standing next to a beat-up junker of a car parked right out front of the palace, his shoulders tense, his face panicked.

“Cr-Cristof?” Jackson gasps, stunned still in his awe.

“Do you know this guy?” Ben asks, stepping close to Jacks and staring at the fairly ragged young man standing at the base of the palace steps, an expression on his face that can only be described as…well, devastated.

Jackson doesn’t answer and instead moves, bounding down the palace steps, taking them three at a time. “Cris!” he shouts. “Cris, what the fuck!?” Jackson laughs with joy as he races for his true best friend.

Jesse and Rafe glance at each other, not knowing how to feel. They recognize the name, of course, as one of Jackson’s best friends from the Community.

But what the hell is the Community showing up at the palace for?

“Cris, I can’t believe it’s you!” Jackson roars, grabbing his smaller friend into a huge hug, lifting him off the ground.

A smile comes to the young man’s face – he can’t help it. “All right, all right, put me down!” Cristof says, laughing, even as he wraps his friend in a hug of his own, pressing his face tight to Jackson’s shoulder. “God, I missed you.”

“How did you find me!?”

“I saw you – on a god damn magazine –“ Cristof says, laughing a little. “We all did, you fancy fuck.”

Jackson laughs a little but shakes his head, awed. “What are you doing here!?”

“Are you okay?” Cristof asks, avoiding the question. Jackson puts him back on his feet but doesn’t let him go, keeping his hands on his shoulders as he steps back, looking Cristof up and down.

“Are you?” Jackson asks, his face falling a bit. “God, Cris, you’re so thin –“

“Look who’s talking, you asshole,” Cristof growls, even as he smiles. “But I’m serious, man,” he glances up towards the palace, at the set of Alphas still standing on the steps, carefully watching and ready to intercede if Jackson needs it. “Are you like – good here? Are you safe and stuff?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, nodding, his own face falling as he realizes that…Cristof isn’t here just to visit. That there’s an anxiety in the set of his shoulders, the way he keeps looking around. “I’m fine, Cris – I’m…I’m great. I found my mate.”

Cristof whips his face back to his friend. “No shit,” he whispers. “True not kid?”

“True not kid,” Jackson says, nodding seriously, using their old Community shorthand. “She’s amazing – come in side, she’ll love to meet you –“

“I can’t, man,” Cristof says, shaking his head, his face breaking a bit to show the true sorrow that’s running through him. “I have to get back.”

“Back?” Jackson asks, going still. His hands tighten on Cristof’s shoulders. “Cris, don’t go back – it’s fucking awful there, it’s so much better here – there’s so much you don’t know –“

“There’s so much you don’t know,” Cristof snarls, stepping towards Jackson and baring his teeth. His eyes flick to the Alphas standing on the steps, all who move forward towards them. But Jackson flashes up a hand towards Jesse and Rafe and the others. They pause, tense.

“What’s going on?” Jackson asks, his voice low and serious, finally realizing that…that something really is wrong. “Why can’t you stay? We – we’ll build a life for you, Cris. We can do that, we really can –“

But Cristof just shakes his head, his throat working. “I have to get back. Zachary –“ his voice breaks on the name and he hangs his head.

Jackson’s hands tighten. “What’s wrong with Zachary?” he growls.

“He’s…in fucking deep, Jackson. They…” Cristof taps his temple with a finger. “They got into his head, or whatever. He’s – it’s fucking awful, okay? And the command is getting really cruel, way worse than it was when you left – they’re…hurting people…” Cristof’s words come out thin and choked towards the end and he looks away, working very hard to avoid crying.

“Come inside,” Jackson says, his hands tightening on Cristof’s shoulders. “We’ll tell the King – there are people who want to help –“

“I’m not talking to that jackass King,” Cristof snarls, stepping away from Jackson and jerking himself out of Jackson’s grasp.

“He’s not like that – everything they told us in the Community were fucking lies Cristof –“

“Did they get into your head, Jackson?” Cristof asks, again looking up at the palace, worried. “You’re all fucking…fancy now? And turned your back on your people? Just…left us?”

“Cristof,” Jackson says, holding a hand out towards his friend, guilt running through him because…well, because the accusation hits hard. And it’s not completely untrue. “I’m…trying. I’m working with a doctor to get aid – to get people in –“

“Well, it’s not working, Jackson!” Cristof bites out, tears starting from his eyes now. He snarls, wiping hard at his face with his sleeve, desperately unhappy that his emotions have worked their way to the surface. “They’re fucking hurting us, Jacks! And the ones who run away, they get fucking killed if they don’t starve to death – they’re –“

“Who gets killed?” Jackson whispers, grabbing Cristof’s arm again.

“Jacks, do you need help?” Rafe asks, and Jackson whips his head to the side to see his friends all standing close. But Jackson snarls, telling them wordlessly to stay back, and Rafe holds up his hands, letting Jacks know that he’ll obey.

“Who. Gets. Killed,” Jackson snarls, turning back to Cristof, his hand tightening on his arm.

“Your fucking Tasha girl, for one,” Cristof growls back, anger and jealousy and rage and terror all plain on his face.

All the blood drains from Jackson’s face and he just stares at his friend, who glances over at the Princes and the duke and the ambassador and wipes again at his face, at the tears streaking down his cheeks.

Jackson just stares at Cristof, hardly breathing. “How do you know about Tasha?”

Because never – not once – did he tell anyone about her. Ariel – and Hank and Ella – they’re the only ones on earth who have heard her name from his lips.

“Because she found me, Jackson,” Cristof says, freely crying now even despite his efforts to stop. “She ran when she got big-bellied – and she was starving – her and the pup both – and she needed help, and she begged me for anything – I helped them, I did everything I could in secret, but it wasn’t enough –“

Jackson’s heart pounds in his chest. The pup.

A pup.

Tasha – and…

Tasha and a pup.

“They died?” he whispers, shaking Cristof hard, needing an answer now.

Cristof just stares at him for a too-long moment. Jackson’s entire life, his reality, hangs in the balance and he waits, desperate, not breathing.

“Tasha died,” Cristof whispers.

Then he turns, his arm slipping out of Jackson’s hand, and reaches for the handle to the door on the back seat of the car.

Jackson’s heart seizes in his chest.