Surprise Guests & Shaken Calm
A tense quiet fell over the Lanes’ dining room, where everyone had gathered—Powder, Mylo, and Claggor still showing signs of their breakfast fiasco, while Vi and Caitlyn leaned against each other at the far end of the table. Vander stood at the edge of the table, arms folded, worried lines etched into his brow.
A sharp knock at the front door broke the hush.
They all glanced at one another, each silently acknowledging that whoever had arrived was almost certainly there for Caitlyn. Vander sighed, running a hand over his beard. “Stay put,” he muttered, stepping out of the dining room.
He reached for the knob, about to pull the door open, when it was shoved open from the other side. A figure slipped in, shutting it behind her with a decisive click. Vander blinked in surprise—she looked uncharacteristically unsettled. “Grayson?” he said, voice lowered. “What’s going on?”
She raised a hand to silence him, eyes scanning the hallway. “I cannot fucking believe this,” she muttered, more to herself than to Vander. Without waiting for an explanation, she strode into the kitchen.
Grayson scanned the house’s open floor plan, her gaze zeroing in on the dining room. Without preamble, she strode toward it, leaving Vander to follow, questions simmering in his mind.
Grayson stepped into the middle of the room, her expression giving little away, and surveyed the gathered faces.
At the table, Vi and Caitlyn froze, mugs of coffee halfway to their lips. Powder, Mylo, and Claggor all went wide-eyed, though they were still dusted with flour from the earlier breakfast debacle. Grayson’s gaze landed squarely on Caitlyn, who set her mug down with a clink.
“There you are,” Grayson said, her voice taut with frustration. “Authorities in England have quietly notified our office about your ‘disappearance’, Princess.” Her eyes flicked to Caitlyn. “They haven’t heard from you in hours, and apparently, Ms Medarda tried contacting you with no response. When she reached out to Elora, head of your estate, even she could not locate your whereabouts. That’s when I was looped in.”
Caitlyn’s stomach twisted at Grayson’s words. She darted a look at Vi, her expression stricken. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go MIA—”
But Grayson just exhaled, her relief mingling with exasperation. “It’s fine. I’ve kept this under the radar—didn’t want half the county to know the princess decided to run off. Still, it wasn’t hard to guess where you’d turn up.”
She cast Vi a knowing glance, then refocused on Caitlyn, who stood there, guilt and worry colliding. “So, here you are,” Grayson concluded, lips pressed into a thin line. “Alive and well, I see. Which is more than anyone back at the palace knew until now.”
Vander cleared his throat, stepping into the kitchen behind Grayson. “Grayson, let’s keep it calm,” he said gently. “Nobody’s harmed. Caitlyn’s safe.”
“I know.” Grayson nodded, running a hand through her short hair. “That’s why I came alone, no uniform, no official car. Last thing we need is a media circus.” She turned fully to Caitlyn, her tone softening. “I’m Captain Ahmadova, by the way, But you can call me Grayson. Normally I’d be in uniform, but I didn’t want to risk attention. Are you okay?”
Caitlyn pushed her chair back and stood, cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry,” she began, voice trembling with a flurry of half-formed apologies. “I know this was irresponsible, and—”
Grayson raised a hand, cutting her off gently. “Look, the second I heard you were missing, Liv and I knew exactly where you’d turn up. I wasn’t worried, not really.” She paused, her tone softening. “I get it—you needed time to breathe. I’ve seen the news, and if I were in your place, I’d want to hide, too. But I need to ask: are you okay right now?”
Caitlyn swallowed, gaze flicking uncertainly between Vi and Grayson before landing on the tabletop. “I feel… selfish,” she admitted, almost in a whisper. “Dragging you all into this—it’s not fair.”
Vi let out a low scoff, folding her arms as she leaned back in her chair. “Stop saying you ‘dragged’ us in, Princess. We want to be here,” she said, glancing around at Powder, Mylo, and Claggor, who nodded in agreement. “That’s what support looks like.”
Caitlyn’s chest constricted, her eyes darting around the group. “I’ve never had—” She broke off, voice catching, clearly overwhelmed. “I’ve never had people who’d stand by me like this.”
Grayson’s eyes welled up for a fraction of a second, a flash of emotion sparking in her usually steady gaze. But she cleared her throat, snapping back to a businesslike edge. “I’m glad you have them now,” she said quietly, “but Ms Medarda’s been trying to reach you, and the palace is on high alert. You have to call her Caitlyn—now.”
Caitlyn jolted, straightening. “Oh, shit,” she hissed, eyes widening as she realised she’d left her phone upstairs. “I’m sorry!” she exclaimed over her shoulder, bolting up the stairs two at a time.
From the dining room, they heard her mutter another “Sorry for swearing!” and a small chorus of stifled laughter followed, the tension dissolving in her wake as they waited for Caitlyn’s inevitable return.
Vander stepped forward, gesturing Grayson into a seat. “Let me get you some coffee,” he said, gratitude etched in his voice. “Thank you for keeping this under wraps.”
Grayson exhaled, finally allowing herself a small, weary smile. “I’ll take it. Black, one sugar.”
As Vander busied himself at the counter, Powder and the rest of the Lanes siblings hovered in the background, exchanging glances. Vi sank back into her chair, feeling a wave of relief that the confrontation hadn’t been worse. She rubbed a comforting hand over Caitlyn’s empty seat, wishing she could somehow erase the worry from this morning’s chaos.
Moments later, Vander slid a steaming cup of coffee toward Grayson, giving her a nod of appreciation. “You want anything else? We have some pancakes left over and don’t worry about food poisoning; I made them” He glanced at the flour-streaked siblings sheepishly.
Grayson raised an amused eyebrow and sipped her coffee. “I’ll pass,” she said dryly. “But thanks.”
With that, the tension in the kitchen ebbed slightly, a subdued hush settling over them as they awaited Caitlyn’s return.
-----------------------------------------------
Caitlyn closed the door to Vi’s attic bedroom behind her, the muffled chatter downstairs suddenly distant. She spotted her clothes strewn where she’d left them the night before and crouched down, fishing her phone from the pocket of her discarded pants. The screen lit up instantly, bombarded by a flood of missed calls, text notifications, and social media alerts.
Her stomach twisted as she opened her inbox—links, tags, and video attachments pelted her from every direction. With an unsteady breath, she clicked one, and a shaky amateur recording filled the screen. The sight of her own terrified face flashed past, then her scream—“Vi!”—rang out, muffled by the pounding music from the rave. She watched Vi’s pink hair whip across the frame as she tackled her attackers, the feed cutting in and out of focus. A moment later, the video ended, replaced by an onslaught of hateful or speculative comments.
Caitlyn shut her eyes, heart pounding. She forced herself to scroll through the flood of images and posts, each one referencing the mysterious pink-haired guard dog who’d come to her rescue. Some tweets and comments were cruel, mocking the terror in her screams, while others speculated that her unknown saviour must be a personal bodyguard or hired muscle. A few more, however, claimed the pink-haired fighter was actually her girlfriend, tossing out homophobic remarks that made Caitlyn’s stomach churn.
The hashtags seemed to smack her in the face: #GaytlynKiramman was back in the spotlight with more horrifying GIFs of her being manhandled. Then came #Guarddog, accompanied by blurry images capturing Vi mid-brawl from every conceivable angle—thankfully so grainy that no one could confirm her identity. Even so, the idea that strangers were spinning conspiracies about Vi’s role in her life sent a jolt of both relief and dread through Caitlyn. Thank god they haven’t figured out it’s Vi. But the fear of when they might - was paralysing.
Suddenly, the phone vibrated again, nearly slipping from her grasp. She glanced at the screen to see yet another message from Mel, flagged URGENT in capital letters.
Caitlyn let out a shaky sigh, the adrenaline thrumming in her veins like a warning siren. She tapped her screen, deliberating. But she couldn’t stomach looking at any more vile comments or horrifying snapshots of the whole ordeal. With a frustrated breath, she locked the phone, her thoughts churning.
If I’m going to face Mel right now, I need all the support I can get. She looked at the attic door, her heart still racing. And that support is downstairs—waiting for me.
Steeling herself, Caitlyn stuffed the phone into her pocket and quietly headed back down, bracing for the confrontation she knew was coming, determined not to face it alone.
-----------------------------------------------
Grayson took a careful sip of her coffee, then turned her attention to Vi, who sat near the dining room table, half-heartedly picking at a stray pancake crumb. “You okay, Vi?” she asked, a note of genuine concern woven into her calm, professional tone. “You been on your phone at all?”
Vi lifted her gaze, confusion crossing her features. “Uh, not really. Why?”
Grayson raised her brows. “You really haven’t seen the videos from the rave?” She paused, letting the question hang. When Vi shook her head, Grayson allowed herself a wry chuckle. “Might wanna brace yourself—it’s all over social media, from what I’ve heard.”
Vi’s cheeks reddened, but before she could respond, Grayson set her mug down and continued, a teasing lilt entering her voice. “So, was it really a good idea to practically kidnap the Princess of England last night and drag her back here?”
Vi’s eyes widened, and she sputtered, “Kidnap? She came willingly, I swear!” She gestured vaguely, as though searching for proof that everything was fine. “And this house was closer and… uh, safer.”
“Mhmm,” Grayson replied, glancing knowingly between Vi and Caitlyn’s empty seat. “So it wasn’t about staff hearing you two in the middle of the night, hmm?”
Vi threw her arms up. “How does everyone know we f- uh… never mind… But is it really that obvious?” She scratched the back of her neck, redness remaining stagnant.
Powder, giggling from behind Vi, pitched her voice in a mock posh accent. “But of course, dear sister. You’re positively glowing.”
Grayson hummed in agreement, a soft spot clearly showing in her gaze whenever she looked Vi’s way. “Anyway,” she said, turning to Vander, who was busy wiping the counter and making a valiant effort to scrub away the stubborn purple dye. “Poor girl just wants a normal life, yet one hiccup becomes a worldwide debacle. I can’t imagine what that must feel like. Liv’s currently vetting therapists in case Caitlyn asks.”
Vander set the dish towel aside with a tired sigh. “I appreciate that,” he murmured. “I owe you and Olivia, big time.”
Grayson just waved off his thanks. “Don’t be silly, Vander. We’ve covered each other’s asses more times than I can count. Think of it as balancing old debts.”
Their eyes met, a brief, understanding nod passing between them—an unspoken acknowledgement of all the times they’d had each other’s backs before, and all the times they would again.
Just then, they heard a soft step on the stairs. Every head in the room pivoted up to see Caitlyn descending, phone in hand. Her posture looked tense, but the moment she noticed Vi, her face relaxed a fraction. Without hesitation, she moved to Vi’s side, fingers lacing through hers. Vi squeezed back, concern shining in her eyes.
“Hey,” Vi said softly. “How’d the call with Mel go?”
Caitlyn’s cheeks flushed as she admitted, “I, um… I haven’t called yet.” She glanced around at the circle of siblings, Grayson, and Vander, her voice quivering with a mix of nerves and determination. “I was hoping… you’d all be here with me when I do. If that’s okay.”
Vi, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor shared a look, then nodded in unison. Vander and Grayson exchanged a glance, and Grayson gave her own gentle nod, stepping back into the kitchen to give them space while staying within earshot.
They settled at the dining table again, Caitlyn and Vi on one side, the three siblings on the other, while Vander and Grayson lingered at the kitchen’s island. Caitlyn inhaled deeply, then propped her phone against a salt shaker, opening FaceTime. Her hand trembled slightly around Vi’s.
“All right,” she whispered, steeling herself as she tapped Mel’s contact. “Here goes nothing.”
The phone rang once, twice, thrice—and then the screen lit up with Mel’s face, the tension in the room coiling as everyone braced themselves for what came next.