Chapter 63. That Was Close
2236 Words
Caspian’s house- the"Fortress," had never felt less like a prison and more like a sanctuary. A week had passed since the night the marble counters had seen more action than the stove, and in that time, the brutalist concrete of Caspian’s estate had begun to thaw. The clinical, filtered air now carried the faint, lingering scent of Rayna’s vanilla perfume and the earthy remnants of the stews she insisted on simmering in the afternoons.
Rayna was currently tucked away in the south wing-Caspian’s private quarters, hooked into a pair of studio headphones, tracking a vocal melody that felt like silk and gravel. She was safe, she was hidden, and she was, for the first time in her life, profoundly content.
But the silence was about to be shattered.
The roar of three distinct high-performance engines echoed through the canyon, vibrating the reinforced glass of the living room. Max’s voice crackled over the house intercom, sounding uncharacteristically amused.
"Boss, the circus is at the gate. Obsidian Dirge is back from the dead."
Caspian, who had been leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom watching Rayna work, straightened up instantly. He adjusted his black cufflink, his face snapping back into the cold, untouchable mask of the King of Rock. But there was a tell- a slight softening around his eyes, a lingering glow that hadn't been there a week ago.
"Stay in the west wing," Caspian murmured, walking over to press a brief, lingering kiss to the crown of her red head. "Wolf has the nose of a bloodhound and Dante has the impulse control of a toddler. If they find you here before we’re ready to announce the partnership, the press will have it by dinner."
Rayna smirked, sliding one ear cup off. "Partnership? Is that what we’re calling it now, Elijah?"
Caspian paused at the door, his hand on the frame. "For the world? Yes. For me? You know exactly what it is."
The front doors of the Fortress swung open with a bang. Wolf, Dante, and Thorin exploded into the soaring entryway like a localized hurricane. They were tanned from the desert, smelling of leather and expensive cigarettes, and carrying the chaotic energy of a band that had just realized their tour mate wasn't actually a ghost.
"Where is he?" Dante shouted, his voice echoing off the concrete. "Where’s the Vampire? I want to know why I had to find out my friend is alive via a viral video while I was halfway through a bottle of tequila in Cabo!"
Caspian descended the stairs with a slow, measured elegance. "You were in Cabo because I paid for the villa, Dante. Shut up."
Wolf, the band’s guitarist and the most observant of the lot, didn't join in the shouting. He stood back, his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed as he watched Caspian approach. He watched the way Caspian move- there was a fluidity to his stride, a lack of the usual jagged, high-strung tension that usually defined him after a legal battle.
Caspian reached the bottom step, and Wolf let out a low, disbelieving whistle.
"Holy hell," Wolf muttered.
Thorin looked over, confused. "What? Is his hair messed up? Did the Suits finally break him?"
"No," Wolf said, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. "Look at him. The jaw is relaxed. The shoulders aren't up at his ears. Look at the neck, boys."
Dante scrambled over, squinting at Caspian’s throat. "I don't see anything. No hickeys. The King is too careful for that."
"It’s not a mark, you i***t," Wolf laughed, clapping a hand on Caspian’s shoulder. "It’s the energy. Caspian, you gorgeous bastard... you got laid. And not just 'a quick distraction' laid. You look like you’ve been thoroughly unmade."
Caspian flicked Wolf’s hand off his shoulder with a sharp glare, but he didn't deny it. "I’ve had a productive week. We cleared the Morrison deposition. The labels are in retreat. I’m allowed to relax."
"Relax?" Thorin snorted, heading toward the kitchen. "Caspian Void doesn't relax. He calculates. He broods. He doesn't... glow."
The boys migrated toward the sunken living room, dropping their gear on the designer furniture. Almost immediately, the "secretive" vibe of the house began to push back against them.
Dante stopped mid-sentence, his nose wrinkling. "Is that... rosemary? And garlic?" He turned toward the kitchen. "Since when do you let the staff cook actual food in here? Usually, it’s just green juice and misery."
"I told the chef to branch out," Caspian lied smoothly, heading toward the bar to pour three fingers of scotch.
"And the music?" Wolf asked, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling window where the stool and the camera tripod still stood from Rayna’s video. He looked down and froze. Resting against the base of the stool was a guitar- a battered, scuffed acoustic that definitely didn't belong to Caspian’s multi-million dollar collection.
Wolf picked it up, running a thumb over a sticker of a faded purple bird on the headstock. "This is Rayna’s. The one she had in the subway."
The room went silent. Caspian didn't turn around, his back to them as he poured the drinks.
"She left it here after the video," Caspian said, his voice clipped. "Max is supposed to have it shipped to her hotel."
"Which hotel?" Dante asked, jumping onto the back of the sofa. "We should go see her! We need to celebrate. The Red Queen is back! We should bring her here, have a real party. She’s probably bored out of her mind hiding from the press."
"She’s busy," Caspian snapped, a little too quickly. "She’s tracking new material. She needs space."
Thorin, who had wandered into the kitchen to find a snack, suddenly stuck his head back into the living room. "Hey, Caspian? Why is there a silk robe in the laundry room? A small silk robe?"
Caspian froze. He’d told the housekeepers to stay away, but he’d forgotten that Thorin had the curiosity of a raccoon.
"It’s a gift," Caspian said, finally turning around. His eyes were dangerous, the 'King' coming back in full force. "For a guest. One who is no longer here. Drop it."
Wolf stepped closer, his eyes dancing with mischief. "A guest? Is that who did the 'unmaking,' Boss? Some high-end model? An actress? Or did you finally cave and let one of those 'Suits' from Vesper into your bed?"
"It’s none of your business," Caspian rumbled. "Now, are we going to talk about the tour rehearsals or are you going to spend the afternoon playing detective?"
For the next two hours, the tension was a living thing. Caspian was distracted, his eyes constantly drifting toward the hallway that led to the south wing. Every time a floorboard creaked or the wind whistled through the vents, he stiffened.
The boys were relentless. They were playful, poking at the cracks in his armor, convinced he was hiding some nameless socialite. To them, Rayna was a peer- a "little sister" of the industry they were helping to protect. The idea of Caspian, the cold, untouchable King, being with the girl from the orphanage hadn't even crossed their minds. It was too messy. Too real.
"I need to check the levels in the studio," Caspian said abruptly, standing up in the middle of a conversation about stage pyrotechnics. "Stay here. Drink the scotch. Don't break anything."
"I’ll come with," Dante said, hopping up. "I want to see if the new monitors are in."
"No," Caspian said, his voice like a whip.
Dante blinked, taken aback by the sheer aggression in the tone. "Whoa. Okay. Just an offer, man."
"I need to run some private diagnostics," Caspian softened his voice, but the steel was still there. "Give me twenty minutes."
He hurried down the hall, his heart hammering. He reached the west wing studio- a smaller, intimate space he’d set up for Rayna. He pushed the door open to find her standing at the mic, her eyes closed, her voice soaring through a haunting bridge.
"Rayna," he hissed.
She jumped, pulling her headphones down. "What? Did they leave?"
"No, they’re suspicious as hell. Dante is five seconds away from wandering down here to 'help.' You need to be silent. Totally dark."
Rayna laughed softly, walking over to him and looping her arms around his neck. "The big, bad King is scared of his own bandmates?"
"I'm not scared of them," Caspian growled, his hands finding her waist and pulling her flush against him. "I'm protecting this. Once they know, the world knows. And I want you to myself for just a little longer."
He leaned down, his mouth finding hers in a deep, desperate kiss that tasted of the secret they were keeping. It was electric- the thrill of the boys being just a few hallways away adding a jagged edge to the intimacy.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.
"Caspian? Seriously, man, I found your phone in the kitchen. It’s Thorne calling!" Dante’s voice was right outside the door.
Caspian stiffened, his eyes going wide. He didn't let go of Rayna; instead, he stepped back, pulling her into the darkened corner of the studio behind a large acoustic baffle.
The door handle turned.
Rayna pressed her face into Caspian’s chest, her breath hitching. She could hear the thud of Caspian’s heart- a frantic, powerful beat.
The door swung open. The light from the hallway spilled across the polished floor, stopping just inches from the baffle where they were hiding.
"Caspian?" Dante called out, stepping into the room. "You in here? The lights are on, but-"
Caspian stepped out from behind the baffle, his movements calculated and slow. He was adjusting his shirt, his face a mask of cold, unbothered fury.
"I told you to wait in the living room, Dante," Caspian said, his voice a low, lethal rumble.
Dante jumped, nearly dropping the phone. "God! You’re like a ghost. I just... Thorne called. I thought it was important."
Caspian walked toward him, his body perfectly positioned to block Dante’s view of the corner where Rayna was huddled. He took the phone from Dante’s hand, his eyes burning with a protectiveness the bassist had never seen directed at anyone but the band.
"If you ever enter my private workspace without an invitation again," Caspian whispered, the threat so real it made Dante’s hair stand up, "you’ll be rehearsing the tour from a hotel in Burbank. Do I make myself clear?"
Dante swallowed hard, his eyes wide. "Yeah. Clear. Crystal. Sorry, man. I just... I’ll go back. Scotch. Right."
Dante scrambled out, closing the door behind him.
Caspian stood there for a long moment, his forehead dropping against the wood of the door. The silence in the room was heavy, charged with the adrenaline of the near-miss.
Rayna stepped out of the shadows, her face pale but her eyes shining. "That was close."
Caspian turned around, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of red hair behind her ear. His hand was shaking- only slightly, but it was enough to make Rayna’s heart ache.
"Too close," he whispered.
An hour later, Max had successfully ushered the Obsidian Dirge boys out of the house, promising them a "real" rehearsal at the stadium the following morning.
As the three SUVs pulled away, Wolf sat in the passenger seat of the lead car, looking back at the Fortress as it glowed against the twilight sky.
"He's hiding her," Wolf said quietly.
"Hiding who?" Thorin asked from the back. "The model?"
"It’s not a model," Wolf said, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the door. "He wouldn't get that protective over a model. He wouldn't risk losing his cool with Dante over a guest."
"Then who?"
Wolf thought about the battered acoustic guitar. He thought about the scent of the stew. He thought about the way Caspian had looked- not like a King, but like a man who had finally found something worth losing his throne for.
"I don't know," Wolf murmured. "But whoever she is... she’s the only person who’s ever made Caspian Void look human. And that makes her the most dangerous woman in the world."
Inside the house, Caspian returned to the south wing. He found Rayna back at the window, looking out at the city. He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest.
"They're gone," he murmured into her ear.
"They're going to find out, Elijah," Rayna said, turning in his arms. "Wolf already knows something is up."
"Let them wonder," Caspian said, his mouth finding hers again, softer this time. "For now, the walls are still holding. For now... it's just us."
Outside, the world was still screaming her name, but inside the glass walls, the King and his Queen were content to rule in silence, at least for one more night
- Writer
