Page 24 of Escape into the Night

“Teddy, we can't let them bring you in. If they get their hands on you before we can figure this out, y’ain’t coming back. Do you understand?”

“Call Marissa! Didn’t you say we could trust her?!” Taz balled his fists tighter in the folds of Theo’s baggy crop top, as if he could somehow keep the horrors from happening by holding on harder.

“I did, T. She's fucking fuming, but this came down from the NSA. The CIA claims they have evidence of him working with the German fucking Chancellor.”

“Bahrenburg? What the fuck… I haven't… I haven't seen him in years! I went into the hospital when he came for a State dinner.” Theo’s head whipped back and forth, his gaze darting between Luke and Connor. “I don't understand! I've never even spoken to the man!”

“Teddy,” Connor blurted, clutching Theo’s cheeks in his hands to quell the evident rising of his panic. “I know it don't make sense, baby. It's never made sense. You been their target from the beginning. That's why we need to get you out of here. You need to trust me.”

Taz gripped Theo’s shirt like a lifeline as he watched the man crumble before his eyes. It felt like he was crumbling right alongside him.

“Theo, someone is on the way to get you somewhere safe. Birdie dropped off your bug-out bag with them. She and Dad are taking the kids out of town with the Secret Service. Connor got the Director to pull some strings and cover it up. But we need to get you out of here now.” Luke crouched down beside Connor and everything suddenly felt claustrophobic as fuck. Taz had to work hard not to give in to the urge to pickpocket Theo’s inhaler just so he could breathe. Judging by the short, shallow gasps Theo was taking, he needed it a hell of a lot more, though.

“Y-you just… decided all this?!” Theo roughly pulled himself free from Connor's grip.

Connor’s expression was the definition of crushed. “Yeah. Yeah, we did. Far as I can see, there ain't many other options. Baby, I can't—”

He didn't need to finish the sentence that his strangled sob cut short. They all knew exactly what he was referring to. Every single time one of the Alphabet Agencies promised to keep him safe, he nearly died. A creeping numbness tiptoed up Taz’ spine to engulf him in its punishing claws.

The silence that descended was cold and horrible and impenetrable. Enraged, no longer drowning in his own selfish misery, Taz shuffled to his knees and shoved at Connor and Luke both, taking the former by surprise enough to knock him clear on his ass. Luke had enough time to counteract the movement, twisting to catch his fall with the palm of his hand planted on the dank, water-stained floor.

“Fuck you both!” Incensed with fury, he balled his hands into fists and struggled to prevent the tears from taking over. “You're both hamfisted, half-wit assholes! You can't just muscle in and manhandle him into this! How fuckingdareyou?!”

“Timothy!” Luke’s voice tore through the thick, mildewed air like a crack of thunder.

“Fuck you!” His shout came out in a tangle of sound that was more sob than scream as he folded in on himself, crushed beneath the weight of guilt and shame and paranoia and the desperate, feral need to protect himself and Theo both. It wasn't rational. It wasn't reasonable. It was raw and reckless and wholly overwhelming in a way that left him floundering.

“T, it’s… it is wh-what it is.” Theo’s shaking hand landed on Taz’ shoulder and added just enough weight to completely topple his last defenses. “I need you t-to remember the promise.”

“Which one?” Taz snarled around a hiccup of a cry.

“All of them.”

“You c-call, I answer. No matter what.”

Theo’s nod was shaky. “No matter what.”

“Never forget.”

“Never. And the last one?” Theo leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Taz’.

“Talk to someone.”

Their arms flew around one another simultaneously, the embrace a merciless vice that was entirely too tight and would never be tight enough. Theo broke first, stifling the sounds of his weeping as he allowed Connor to help him to his feet. They needed a moment of their own. Taz was selfish to think otherwise. Hell, he needed a fuckton of moments of his own with Luke in the aftermath of this catastrophe and he wasn't even the one being spirited away by dark of night. As soon as they departed, the door hanging limp and useless from the hinges in their shadow, the tidal wave hit and the tornado returned. If Luke hadn't been there to catch his fall, he'd have face-planted the concrete and let himself waste away to become another stain on the ground of his hideaway from the world. A fitting end, he thought, if Luke weren't so fucking stubborn. He clung just a little bit tighter to his lifeline as the tears became a flood of biblical proportion.

Chapter Thirteen

Caleb

Theshowmustgoon.Caleb repeated the mantra to himself for the hundredth time as he floated through the throngs of people crowding the Kennedy Center terrace. While Elias had been having his existential crisis about whether or not to run for the presidential nomination, Caleb had been hard at work behind the scenes. Hence, the controlled chaos they currently found themselves embroiled in. He did nothing by halves, something he prided himself on. Judging by the turn-out, he'd really outdone himself this time. If only he could truly appreciate it.

He swept a keen gaze over the terrace and spotted his husband and stepson where he'd left them—Elias scanning through his speech on his phone and Parker entertaining himself close by with a poster board and markers. He couldn't wait to see what sort of adorable campaign slogan the little tyke was whipping up this time. It was these small moments that gave him the strength to do his utmost. Above and beyond. Elias needed his perfectionism and poise, especially after the heinous morningthey'd had. Caleb shuddered at the memory as he returned his attention to the padfolio in his hands.

Connor and Luke showing up at the house while they were all still in pajamas and enjoying toaster waffles had been an unexpected surprise. The bombshell they promptly dropped in the center of the breakfast table was not a welcome addition to their drop in. Thank goodness Connor had the forethought to suggest Parker finish his food in the family room before imploding their world. Caleb could barely stomach Elias’ reaction. He couldn't fathom what the damage would have been like if Parker had discovered his bestest friend Anna was taking a surprise trip to some unknown locale, nor would he have responded well if he had learned that the catastrophic events also took Toby, Birdie, Larry,andTheo away from him. They’d handle that crisis mitigation when things were a little more stable. Caleb laughed under his breath. Stable. When was anything ever stable, anyway?

He stole another glance at his husband for clues about his headspace. Elias was good at this—at pretending everything was fine and that he was the picture of calm, collected efficacy. He’d make a supremely good President for that reason. If anyone had seen his response to the news this morning, they'd probably disagree. Caleb had responded to the news that Theo was being framed for leaking classified intelligence and was now on the run to avoid being eaten alive by the machine hunting him down as one would have expected—righteous indignation and burning rage. Elias? There was no anger, no outcry, no outrage. Just a vacant, cold stillness. Caleb had watched the light go out behind Elias’ eyes and could do nothing to stop him as he excused himself from the table to disappear into the shower. Judging by how long he had remained behind the locked door, his shower was a cold one by the time he finished. They hadn't spoken aboutit since. The giant elephant in the room was now affectionately named Theo.

The show must go on.Caleb reiterated the reminder as he stirred into motion, cutting through the crowd with surgical precision. He had a job to do and he was damn sure going to do it well. He smoothed his sharply tailored suit coat and sidestepped a harried looking event coordinator before honing his focus on a hapless intern who looked to be on the verge of tears.

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