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Mikel’s statement went a step further, detailing how the creative director of Ironside purchased dates with him on an almost weekly basis in the Icon Cafe, just to remind him that it was only a matter of time before she would be purchasing him in other ways, that she would soon own him completely, and he would be forced to do whatever she wanted.

She promised to degrade him, to make him hurt.

Isobel’s breath escaped her in a painful rush as Kalen returned to the van.

It was done. The truth was out there.

Now all they had to do was stay alive and hope this didn’t tilt sideways. They were stepping out of the game—away from the cameras and the fans—and they were drawing a new gameboard, deciding and declaring their own parameters.

This was the final level , they were stating. It ends here, one way or another .

There would be no more hiding, no more deals and negotiations.

After this, the winners and losers of the Ironside Show would be declared for all the world to see, but it wasn’t the students competing against each other anymore. It was their little group versus the entirety of the Stone Dahlia.

She twisted to the front again as Kalen got back behind the wheel, and then she could hear Oscar working on the back of the van before moving to the front plate, the other plates tucked under his arm, a drill in his hand.

“Where did the tools come from?” she asked .

“These are maintenance vans,” Gabriel explained from the seat behind her. “They have supply vans as well, but we chose these for the tools—and because they don’t actually leave food supplies overnight in the other vans. We might need to fix a few things when we get where we’re going.”

They drove for a long time, listening to the low hum of the van, the pattering of rain needling the windows, and the soft crunch of tyres over wet gravel.

The headlights cut through the dark like blades, illuminating trees that swayed together and whispered in a visible rustling as they passed.

The quiet wasn’t exactly comforting. Everyone in the van seemed to be holding their breath.

Theodore was as still as stone beneath her, his fingers tucked into the hem of her hoodie, his fingertips seeking the warmth of her skin, as if he needed the touch to calm himself.

Isobel watched as the heat of her breath clouded the window before her nose, examining each passing shadow and flickering light on the road like she was expecting a threat around every sleepy loop of their journey.

Finally, she forced herself to relax, leaning back into Theodore’s chest, her forehead resting just under his collarbone.

She tried not to think about what might happen if they were pulled over.

She could hear Kalen breathing evenly in the driver’s seat and the turn signal clicking as he veered off into a quieter street, the road narrowing and darkening .

It was Gabriel who finally spoke. “There,” he said, pointing past the window.

Kalen gave a single nod and turned the wheel, guiding the van onto a small asphalt forecourt surrounded by scrubby trees and one flickering overhead light.

A crooked sign on the roof of the store flashed OUVERT , the letters damp and patchy with rain.

The building itself was an unimpressive squat rectangle boasting two glass doors, barred from the inside, and a couple of tall fridges lined up just past the register.

It was the type of place that always smelled like oil and damp floor mats.

It was almost comforting how ordinary it looked, how small and forgettable.

The van crunched to a halt over the wet gravel, and then the engine idled, humming beneath their feet. The other van pulled up right behind them. Kalen reached down and turned off the engine, silence falling in a sudden, painful hush.

“Mikel’s going to give Maya some contacts,” he said. His voice was quiet, and they all peered at the storefront. “She’ll go in alone—she’s the only one people won’t recognise.”

“Won’t they question a woman buying enough food to feed fourteen people in the middle of the night?” Kilian asked.

“This isn’t our only stop,” Elijah said.

The rain had softened to a mist, just enough to hear it blanket the roof, pattering light and constant. It made the windows sweat with condensation, blurring the outside world until it felt like they were safe in their little bubble.

Maya’s silhouette was barely visible, but Isobel could make out her figure as she pulled her hood up over her head and hurriedly crossed the parking lot, her gait purposeful, like she was running to escape the damp. The doors to the convenience store slid open with a whisper and swallowed her up.

They waited.

Isobel rested her cheek against Theodore’s shoulder and tried not to think about how long five minutes could feel.

Inside the van, the air was starting to turn stale with recycled air and nerves, too warm despite the chill outside.

Her hands itched to do something. To fidget, to twist her hair, to pick at her sleeves, but she didn’t move.

She could feel the tension in every single body around her, pressed into the space until it took up every inch of room.

Maya reappeared in the doorway a few minutes later carrying two large plastic bags, one in each hand, the contents dull and shapeless in the low light.

She returned to Mikel’s van with a steady calm, her head bent against the misting sky.

No one followed her. No one called out. She got back into the van, and both engines rumbled softly back to life.

“One down,” Kalen muttered, “four to go.”

“If they stay open,” Gabriel grumbled. “From what I could gather, several of these convenience stores outside Paris just close whenever the hell they want to, no matter what their hours are.”

Mikel followed as they set out again, staying locked on Kalen’s taillights. Nobody responded to Gabriel. Isobel felt far too tense to attempt conversation.

At the second stop, Maya returned with more bags, her hood clinging to her dark hair, plastering tendrils to her downturned face, her tall frame hunched slightly against the chill. Isobel counted the minutes she was gone this time. It was a pitiful attempt to anchor herself.

On the third stop, Maya lingered inside for longer, and Isobel sat forward, Theodore’s fingers tightening against her stomach as she squinted through the misted window, trying to see what was happening inside the store.

Her whole body drew impossibly tight until Maya reappeared with her hands full. No one followed her.

Gabriel murmured, “We’re good.”

Time began to blur into a rhythm. The next store was closed, lights off.

Gabriel swore softly before directing Kalen somewhere else, muttering about adding half an hour to their journey.

They didn’t go into the city where it would be easier, but seemed to be moving further and further away from civilisation, hoping to avoid other cars and traffic cameras.

Each stop looked more like a ghost of the last—dim lights and faded signs, old buildings fighting against the wild countryside. Maya left one of the stores with her mouth set in a grim line, only a water bottle clutched in her hand as she shook her head toward Mikel’s van.

Mikel called to let them know the store owner seemed intent on drawing her into conversation—likely bored on the night shift—and wanted to ask her questions about where she was headed.

The roads turned thin and winding as they travelled on, the kind that hadn’t been maintained in years, and the stores that survived out here felt barely tethered to the world.

As they pulled to a stop again, even the rain felt tired. It hissed down in a constant sheet, soft enough to see through but relentless enough to soak every inch of fabric. Isobel watched Maya step out once more, and when she returned holding several bags, they all let out heavy sighs of relief.

“That’s it,” Gabriel said, rubbing a hand down his face. “Let’s get to the location before the fucking sun comes up.”

Isobel brought out her phone as they rolled away from the store, checking in with Sophia and Bellamy and then doing a quick search online, as though their names might already be flashing across the news highlights.

It was silly, but she couldn’t help herself and didn’t know how else to calm her nerves.

Theodore picked up the hem of her hoodie and pulled it over her head, the cooler air an immediate relief to the skin she hadn’t even realised was flushed with stress .

“Thanks,” she muttered, as he began to soothe his large palms up and down her thighs.

Moses planted his elbow on the edge of her seat, reaching up from where he was folded into the aisle, stealing her hand and threading their fingers together.

It was a slow, delicate unravelling, like they were all letting out a collective breath, finally believing that they might have actually gotten away.

Half an hour later, Gabriel suddenly barked out a direction.

Kalen almost missed the turn—there were no streetlights this far out.

One moment, they were coasting along a narrow rural road flanked by open fields, and the next, Kalen was swerving the van to the side, guiding them onto a barely discernible dirt track swallowed by trees.

Branches arched overhead, laced together to form a canopy.

The rain softened to a hush beneath the cover, but the van’s tyres groaned in protest as they met the uneven ground.

“Time to dry out,” Kalen muttered to himself, but Mikel must have had the same thought. The rain finally, finally stopped.

Isobel sat up straighter, peering out the window. The headlights cut across bark and undergrowth, throwing twisted shadows over their path. The forest was thick with old hardwood trees, vast and gnarled, trunks slick and shiny. The van bumped and swayed with every pothole and fallen branch.