─☼☼☼─

𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙒𝘼𝙎 𝘼 dull ache in Charlotte's head as her eyes slowly opened.

Pain assaulted her vision for a moment, blurring her surroundings as she attempted to come to.

She had no idea where she was, she could barely remember the last thing that had happened. Vaguely, she remembered the church, and the cross, and— oh shit.

Panic surged through her for a moment as she sat up, turning to check where she was.

She wasn't in the church anymore, through her pounding headache she could deduce that much. She was in some sort of vehicle...but she was alone.

With a tight chest, Charlotte shifted in the seat she was positioned in, looking out the window to the right of her.

She hadn't been handcuffed or tied, in fact, it seemed that she had merely been placed into the truck with no real concern of keeping her here.

The truck was in some sort of air hangar. She hadn't the smallest of ideas as to what the hell was going on.

In her examination of her surroundings, Charlotte caught sight of movement in the side mirror, followed by voices floating through the hangar. There were other people here.

She weighed her options; stay in this truck and wait for Renfield to come back and take her wherever the hell he wants, kill her maybe; or get out, find out what was going on and get the hell out of there.

She liked the second option a lot more.

Timidly, Charlotte reached over, pulling on the door handle. It opened easily...she hadn't been locked in.

As quietly and slowly as she could, she stepped out on the concrete floor, not bothering to close the door behind her.

The voices continued from toward the back of the truck. It was a woman and a man — Limbrey and Renfield she was sure.

"You're cut off! I'm not giving you a penny."

Limbrey's voice was full of hatred, full of anger. Apparently, their partnership had gone awry. 

Taking a deep breath, Charlotte slowly walked toward the back of the truck, pushing herself up against the side of it in order to hide herself from the view of the two people who had made her friends' lives a living hell these past few days. 

"I don't need your money." Renfield spoke, his voice sending shivers up Charlotte's spine. "I've got the cross now. Come on Rafe, help me."

Charlotte's heart skipped a beat for a moment...Rafe was here. He was here, and he was still working with Renfield. 

Slowly, the dots began to connect in Charlotte's muddled thoughts. 

Rafe had been the one to take her from the church. He was the reason she wasn't tied up, wasn't thrown in the back of the truck like garbage. 

But even if he had looked out for her, he was still working with Renfield, which meant she wasn't safe. Not really. 

With a vote of confidence, Charlotte forced herself to peer through the small crack that was left by the back door that was ajar. Her eyes darted around for a moment, landing on Limbrey who sat on the ground. It seemed as if she had fallen...or been pushed. 

"Rafe." She called, extending her hand for him to help her up. 

Through her partitioned vision, Charlotte could see one of Rafe's arms, but nothing else. She couldn't gauge which side he was going to choose. 

"Don't worry." Renfield grunted, the truck shaking slightly, alluding to the fact that he had just pulled himself into the back."You'll still get your cut. Come on."

Limbrey's expression grew in urgency as she attempted to sit up. "Renfield!" 

The truck shifted again, more weight being added to the back. 

They were loading the cross. 

Charlotte wasn't sure what had happened in the time she had been unconscious. Why they took the cross out in the first place, why they were in an airplane hangar, why Limbrey and Renfield had turned on each other. 

What she did know for sure, is that she wanted to get Rafe and get the hell out of there. 

As badly as she wanted the cross for Pope, her and Rafe's lives were more important. 

"Renfield, get over here. Help me up." Before, Limbrey sounded almost weak in her pleas, but now, now it was evident that she was angry. 

"Help you up?" Renfield repeated, his voice sounding like it was right next to Charlotte, "You're lucky I don't back you over."

A malicious laugh fell from his lips, Charlotte's skin crawling at the sound of it. Rafe couldn't partner with this man...she wouldn't allow it. 

But Renfield's laughter didn't last for long. 

Instead, a loud bang echoed throughout the space, forcing his laughter to fall silent in his throat. 

Forced to clamp a hand over her mouth to hide her mangled gasp, Charlotte pressed her back up against the side of the truck as three more shots rang off. 

Her heart plummeted as she turned ever-so-slightly, catching sight of the person responsible for the gunshots. 

Limbrey sat with the gun still raised. And with Renfield dead, or well on his way to death, Charlotte deduced that the only other person she could be pointing that gun at was Rafe. 

No.

Panic flooded through her, bile rising in her throat at the prospect of losing Rafe. 

She didn't know what her plan was, but she knew she needed to act fast. 

Turning in flurry, Charlotte ran back toward the cab of the truck, hauling herself in before rummaging through the contents as quickly as possible. Her hands were shaking, heart feeling like it was attempting to claw up through her throat as she dug through the glovebox, looking for any kind of weapon. 

There was nothing there. 

Tears pricked at her eyes as she felt her whole body become overtaken with panic. She could barely control her movements as she dropped onto the floor of the truck, running her hands underneath the seats. 

Just when she had lost all hope, her hand snagged on something underneath the driver's seat. She latched onto it, pulling it with ferocity. 

The gun came loose from its holder, resting in her shaky hands. 

The one and only time she had ever held a gun was when her and Kiara had retrieved Peterkin's murder weapon from the storm drain. But then, she hadn't been afraid. Because back then, she knew that she was never going to fire that gun. Today, she feared the results may be different. 

Charlotte Carrera was not religious, not really at least. But in that moment she said a prayer, feeling as that may be the only thing that could get her through what she was potentially about to do. 

Knowing she couldn't waste any more time, Charlotte yanked herself from the truck. Her sneaker-clad feet smacking against the concrete floor as she landed, already taking a step before fully righting herself. 

She didn't care about being quiet, not anymore. 

Looking down at the gun for a moment, she clicked off the safety, the weapon feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds in her hand as she hovered her finger over the trigger. 

"Help me up, Rafe." Limbrey's voice carried from the back of the truck. "Now."

It felt like the back of the truck was miles away. When Charlotte finally rounded the corner, the gun was already raised, shaking furiously in her hand as she pointed it directly at Carla Limbrey. 

"Drop it." She snapped, alerting both Limbrey and Rafe of her arrival. 

Rafe's face fell for a moment as his eyes landed on the sight of her with the gun. He was shocked that she was out here, terrified that she was putting herself in danger. 

Limbrey's face had fallen too, but in a different way. She was stunned that there was another person here, another person who knew what she had done. But she didn't lower the gun, she kept it raised directly at Rafe as she spoke. "I don't want to hurt either of you kids." She admitted, her voice breathy. "But I need you to help me up, please."

"Drop it!" Charlotte repeated, this time more firmly. The volume of her own voice even startled herself slightly, as it did Limbrey and Rafe.

Despite the urgency in Charlotte's voice, Limbrey didn't waver. 

Anger thudded through Charlotte, intertwining itself with her fear. "Drop the fucking gun, or I swear to God, lady, I will shoot you!"

Limbrey turned to her, her gun still trained on Rafe. "It's Charlotte, right?"

Charlotte's chest rose and fell rapidly as the gun began to shake vigorously in her hands. Her fear was showing, something she did not want to happen. 

Even without confirmation from Charlotte, Limbrey continued. "Charlotte, I don't want to hurt either of you. I believe that we can all work together if─"

The shot had been fired before Charlotte had the chance to talk herself out of it. 

The side mirror of Limbrey's car shattered, all three people in the room jumping at the sound of the warning shot. 

Limbrey turned to Charlotte, shocked that she had fired the gun at all. 

"I said drop it." Charlotte said for the third time, her voice no longer shaking as she re-aimed the gun at Limbrey. "Now."

Slowly, knowing she had no other choice, Limbrey lowered her weapon, setting it down on the ground next to her. 

"Good." Charlotte approved, nodding her head. "Now slide it over to Rafe."

Clenching her jaw, Limbrey followed the teenager's instructions, sliding the gun across the concrete floor. 

Rafe glanced over at Charlotte for a moment, attempting─and failing─ to hide his prideful smile as he bent down and scooped the gun up, tucking it into his back pocket. 

"Please." Limbrey pleaded, her face flushed as she looked back and forth between the two of them. "Just help me up. You'll get your cut, I promise."

All the adrenaline that Charlotte had been feeling slowly faded, leaving her standing in shock. She struggled to catch a breath, the gun still raised as she replayed the events of the last few minutes. 

"Lottie."  Rafe was in front of her in seconds, his voice soft as he watched her with careful eyes. "Charlotte, look at me."

She did as she said, her wide, wild eyes shifting toward him. Tears were clawing to get out, her throat closing as anxiety gripped onto her. 

"Baby, lower the gun." He instructed, gently reaching out to lowering her arm. She didn't fight it, in fact, Charlotte let go of the gun completely, allowing it to land in Rafe's outstretched hand. 

Her breathing picked up as she turned her head slightly, her eyes catching on the body of Renfield that lay in the back of the truck. 

Nausea ripped through her as he legs weakened beneath her. 

She had held no care for Renfield, but seeing him like that, seeing him dead left her feeling distraught. 

Rafe noticed the way her face contorted, the way her skin paled as she swayed uneasily. He took a step closer to her, closing the already small distance between them. Gently, he cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look in his eyes. 

Limbrey was still demanding to be helped up, but Rafe blocked Charlotte's view of her at this point. 

"Look at me." He demanded, his thumb slowly stroking her cheek to calm her nerves. "Lottie, just look at me."

A tear trickled down her cheek as she shook her head, her throat almost feeling too tight to speak. "Rafe, he's dead." She squeaked out, her voice cracking. 

He nodded, wiping her tears. "Don't worry about it." He soothed, turning her toward the front of the truck. "Go get in. I'm right behind you, okay?"

Charlotte didn't have the energy nor desire to argue with him. Wordlessly, she gave a small nod before making her way back toward the cab of the truck, Limbrey's voice still echoing in her ears as she slammed the door behind her, slumping into the seat. 

In the quietness of the truck, the severity of everything that had just happened really hit her. 

She had held a gun to someone. 

There was a dead man in the back of the truck.

The opening of the driver side door broke Charlotte from her thoughts. 

Through tired eyes, she watched as Rafe pulled himself behind the wheel, setting the two guns on the seat between the two of them. 

Charlotte looked down at the weapons, her heart jumping slightly. "What are you going to do with those?" She wondered, her voice hoarse. 

Rafe glanced over at her, turning the keys into the ignition. "I'm gonna get rid of them." He assured. "I'll wipe our prints, and then toss 'em where no one will find them." Basically feeling her anxiousness radiating from the other side of the truck, Rafe reached out to take one of Charlotte's hands into his own. "I'll take care of it." He promised, pulling the truck onto the road. "I've got you."

Pain was thudding in Charlotte's head, the result of the blow to the skull she had received earlier and the heaviness of the events of the past few minutes. Letting out a small grunt, she leaned forward, dropping her head into her hands. 

"Lottie." Rafe worried, glancing over at her. "What's wrong?"

"It's my head." Charlotte admitted, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes to try to alleviate the pain. "I think I have a concussion."

She felt the truck lurch slightly as Rafe stepped on the gas. "I'm going to get us home." He declared, a certain responsibility in his tone. "You need rest."

"I need the events of the past day to have not happened." Charlotte muttered, leaning back in her seat and taking a deep breath. 

Rafe nodded slightly, drumming his hands on the wheel before reaching for his phone. "I gotta call Rose. Let her know that we have the cross."

Looking over at him, Charlotte felt more anxiety wash over her. "Rafe, we gotta talk about this." She argued. "About the cross...it doesn't just belong to you."

He let out a deep sigh, keeping his eyes on the road. "We need this cross, Lottie. You don't understand."

She didn't have the energy to argue with him about it right now. She knew it was no use anyway. 

So she said nothing. Instead, she closed her eyes and pressed her head against the headrest, willing the pounding in her ears to cease. 

When Rafe knew Charlotte was done with the conversation, he dialled Rose, almost jumping around in his seat in anticipation. 

She picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, Rose. I got the...the cross of─the cross thing that they were looking for, I got it!" Rafe waved his hands around as he spoke. "Our ballroom days aren't over, Rose, okay? This thing is covered in diamonds."

Charlotte attempted to push down the feeling of contempt that was clawing to be felt. This wasn't their cross. 

Rose's response to Rafe was instantaneous, "Rafe, what about Limbrey and the others?"

"Don't worry about them."

"What does that mean?"

Rafe rolled his eyes, "It means don't worry about them. They're taken care of. They're out of the deal. I did this on my own."

He glanced at Charlotte for a moment, giving her a look that said he knew he didn't do it alone, but that he couldn't tell Rose that. Not yet at least. 

When Rose spoke, there was worry seeping through her tone. "Rafe, did you hurt them?"

He let out a small laugh. "No. I didn't."

But Rose wasn't laughing, not at all. "Rafe, go home. I need you to stay out of trouble until the morning. We're leaving tomorrow."

Charlotte's heart dropped slightly as she silently turned to look at Rafe. 

Leaving?

Rafe returned her look, trying to give her a look of reassurance as he addressed Rose. "Rose, did you not hear what I just said? We have the cross. We don't have to leave now!"

"There are bigger things going on now, Rafe. You'll see. I just need you to trust me."

A look of confusion covered his face. "What are you talking─what bigger things are going on than this? We got the cross! We're done! Endgame! It's over."

"Go home. I'll meet you there."

The line went dead, leaving a heaving silence to settle over the truck. 

Charlotte was the first to break it, her voice quiet as she spoke. "You're leaving?" 

Three days ago, Charlotte had told Rafe to get the hell of the Outer Banks, to forget about her. 

But she was so glad he hadn't. She couldn't bear the thought of him just leaving and never looking back then, and she certainly couldn't bear it now.

Rafe ran a hand over his face in frustration. "We were ─we were supposed to. But I was never going to just leave you, Lottie. I swear."

Staring straight ahead, watching as the familiar parts of the Figure Eight came into view, Charlotte felt another tear slip from her eyes. 

Looking over, Rafe's face fell. "Lottie, what's wrong?"

"I was going to shoot her." Charlotte's voice was gravelly, it barely sounded like her own as she spoke. "If she had kept aiming that gun at you, I would have shot her, Rafe."

He nodded slightly, "But you didn't." He tried to calm her emotions. 

Tearing her eyes off of the road, focusing them on Rafe, Charlotte nodded. "But I would have...that's the problem. I love you so fucking much that I would have shot someone."

Silence coated the truck once again. Rafe's eyes darted between the road and Charlotte as if ensuring that she was telling the truth. 

But she was, she absolutely was. 

Every ounce of Charlotte's being seemed to relinquish to her feelings for Rafe Cameron. No matter how hard she tried to fight it, tonight revealed that. 

The thought of him in danger, of someone hurting him, was enough to send her spiralling, and that terrified her. 

Reaching out to place his hand on her thigh, Rafe nodded. "I love you." He asserted. "And I'm going to protect you from all of this, okay? It's all going to be okay."

But it wasn't...it really wasn't.

 ─☼☼☼─