Chapter 48: Chapter 48

Prince Sebastian

As I rode through the moonlit night, my heart pounded with a mixture of fear and hope. Every beat seemed to echo the name that had consumed my thoughts for years—Matthew. The letter from Marcus had been clear: he had found him. After all this time, the one person I had searched for, the one person who had been ripped from my life, was finally within reach.

The darkened landscape flew past me as I urged my horse faster, the wind whipping against my face. The forest had grown dense, shadows playing tricks on my eyes, but I pressed on, driven by the desperate need to see Matthew with my own eyes. The thought of him, so close and yet still so far, gnawed at me, fueling the fire within.

When the inn finally came into view, my heart skipped a beat. It was quiet—too quiet for a place that was supposed to be a refuge. But as I drew closer, the eerie silence was shattered by the unmistakable sounds of battle. The clashing of steel, the shouts of men locked in combat, and the distant cries of pain filled the air. A cold dread settled in my chest, the hope that had driven me now tainted with fear.

I dismounted my horse swiftly, drawing my sword as I approached the inn. The front door was wide open, hanging from its hinges, and the sound of the fight was growing louder. I tightened my grip on my sword, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I rushed inside, ready to face whatever threat awaited me.

The inn was in chaos. Broken furniture littered the floor, shattered glass crunched underfoot, and the air was thick with the scent of blood. My eyes darted around the room, searching frantically until they found him—Matthew, in the midst of the fray, fighting for his life.

Time seemed to slow as I took in the sight of him. His hair was longer, his face marked with the passage of time and the hardships he had endured, but it was him. The years apart melted away in that moment, replaced by the desperate need to protect him, to save him from the danger that had once again found him.

Without a second thought, I charged forward, my sword cutting through the air as I joined the battle. I fought with a ferocity I hadn't known I possessed, driven by the sight of Matthew, so close yet still in peril. My blade connected with an attacker, the force of the blow sending him sprawling to the ground. But there were too many of them, and despite the strength of our defense, it was clear we were outnumbered.

"Matthew!" I shouted, hoping to reach him through the chaos. But before I could get closer, I saw him falter, a figure emerging from the shadows behind him, weapon drawn.

"Matthew!" I screamed again, but the warning came too late. I watched in horror as the blade found its mark, plunging into his abdomen. The world seemed to stop as I saw the shock and pain on his face, his hand instinctively reaching for the wound as blood poured from the wound.

"No!" The word tore from my throat, a raw, anguished cry as I fought my way towards him. My sword slashed through another attacker, but my focus was entirely on Matthew, on the life that was slipping away from him with every heartbeat.

Just as I reached him, strong arms lifted him, and I saw the blood, too much blood, staining his clothes and the ground beneath him. "Don't take him!" I pleaded, my voice breaking.

But his eyes were unfocused, his strength draining fast. Before I could react, he was hoisted onto a horse, his body limp as they prepared to take him away. "No!" I lunged forward, but it was too late. The horse bolted into the night, carrying Matthew away from me yet again.

The world felt like it was crumbling beneath me as I watched him disappear into the darkness. The pain of losing him again was more than I could bear. It was like the first time, all those years ago, but worse—because this time, I had seen him. I had almost saved him.

But almost wasn't enough.

As the horse carrying Matthew disappeared into the night, something snapped inside me. The rage that had been simmering beneath the surface for years, stoked by the frustration of endless searching and the pain of losing him over and over again, finally erupted.

Without thinking, I bolted after the horse, my legs pounding against the dirt road as I chased the rapidly fading figure. My breath came in ragged gasps, the only sound louder than my heartbeat was the pounding of my boots on the ground. I wasn't even sure what I intended to do—catch up to the horse on foot? Take on the entire group of attackers by myself? None of it mattered. All I knew was that I couldn't let them take Matthew away from me again.

"Matthew!" I screamed, the word tearing from my throat in a hoarse, desperate cry. My vision was a blur of tears and fury as I ran, faster and faster, the distance between us growing despite my every effort. The ache in my chest from the exertion was nothing compared to the agony of losing him again.

But no matter how fast I ran, it wasn't enough. The horse, already far ahead, was vanishing into the night, taking Matthew further and further from me.

"Matthew!" I screamed again, the sound of his name echoing through the empty road as if I could will him back to me by force of will alone. But he was gone.

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped around my torso, pulling me back. "Sebastian, stop!" Marcus shouted, his voice strained as he struggled to hold me. I thrashed against him, the adrenaline and rage making me stronger than I should have been, but he held on, refusing to let go. "You can't do this! You're not thinking straight!"

"Let me go!" I bellowed, struggling against his grip with everything I had. "They've taken him! I have to get him back!" The desperation in my voice was raw, feral, but Marcus didn't relent.

"Sebastian, listen to me!" Marcus tightened his grip, his voice filled with a mixture of fear and determination. "You'll get yourself killed! You can't save him like this!"

I fought harder, blinded by my rage and desperation, but Marcus was right—I was acting on pure emotion, not strategy. I wasn't thinking. But how could I think when Matthew was being ripped away from me again?

"You don't understand!" I roared, still trying to break free. "I can't lose him again, Marcus! I can't!" The anguish in my voice was almost too much to bear, and my strength was beginning to wane, the hopelessness of the situation starting to seep in.

"I know, Sebastian," Marcus said, his voice softer now but no less firm. "I know you can't. But running after them like this won't save him. We need a plan—a real plan. You have to pull yourself together."

His words finally began to penetrate the fog of my rage. My struggles slowed, the reality of the situation crashing down on me like a wave. He was right—I couldn't save Matthew by charging into the night like a madman. I had to be smart, had to be strategic, if I wanted any chance of getting him back.

I collapsed to my knees, the last of my strength draining away as the enormity of my failure hit me. Marcus knelt beside me, still holding onto my arm as if afraid I might bolt again.

"Ahhh!" I screamed out, the sound coming out like a roar, the culmination of years of searching, of hoping, of being so close yet always so far from finding Matthew. The frustration, the helplessness, the anger at the world and at myself—it all boiled over in that moment, and I let it consume me.

My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms as I doubled over, the weight of it all crushing me. I had been so close, so close to saving him, and now he was slipping through my fingers again, taken from me when I had finally found him. The pain was unbearable, a physical ache in my chest, and I felt like I was drowning in it.

"You have to calm down. We'll get him back, but we have to do it right. Charging after them like this won't help anyone—especially not Matthew." Marcus said firmly, his hand still gripping my arm as if anchoring me to reality.

I took a shuddering breath, trying to steady myself, but the pain was too much. The thought of Matthew in their hands, injured and alone, was a knife in my heart. I couldn't fail him again. I wouldn't.

"I can't do this," I gasped between sobs, my voice breaking with the admission. "I can't keep losing him. I can't keep failing."

"You're not failing, Sebastian," Marcus said softly, his voice calm despite the chaos of the moment. "But you have to keep going. For Matthew. For yourself."

I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. "I was so close, Marcus... and now he's gone again. How do I keep going when it feels like I'm losing him all over again?"

Marcus sighed, his grip still firm on my arm. "You keep going because you love him, because you can't let them win. You keep going because there's still a chance to save him, and you owe it to both of you to try."

His words cut through the haze of my despair, reaching a part of me that still clung to hope, however fragile it might be. He was right—if I gave up now, I would be letting them win. I would be giving up on Matthew, on the chance to save him and bring him home.

I took a shuddering breath, trying to steady myself. The pain was still there, sharp and unrelenting, but beneath it was a flicker of determination, a small but fierce spark that refused to be extinguished.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Clive said, his tone a mix of exasperation and concern as he caught his breath. The reality of what I'd just done began to sink in—I had nearly lost myself in that moment, chasing after an impossible goal, blinded by desperation.

Before I could respond, Alice was at my side, her arms wrapping around me in a comforting embrace. "Oh, honey," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing as she held me close. The warmth of her touch was grounding, pulling me back from the edge of the abyss I had almost fallen into.

"I'm guessing you're the prince," another voice chimed in, snapping me out of the momentary solace. I turned to see a man I didn't recognize, his expression a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

"Yeah, Throne, he is," Clive interjected before I could answer. "So don't say random shit to him."

Throne—if that was his name—shrugged, looking slightly chastened but not entirely apologetic. "Just making sure. No need to lose our heads now, especially with what's at stake."

Clive rolled his eyes, as he turned back to me. "Look, Your Highness, or whatever, I get it. You're pissed, and you have every right to be. But running off like that? It's not going to help anyone, especially not Winston."

"Wow, did Clive actually say 'Your Highness'?" Throne sniggered from the side, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Without missing a beat, Clive reached over and cuffed Throne on the back of the head, the smack echoing in the tense silence. Throne rubbed the area he was hit, grinning despite the playful reprimand, but didn't say anything back to him.

I swallowed hard, the mention of Matthew's new name reigniting the ache in my chest. "I know," I admitted, my voice still rough with emotion. "I just... I couldn't stand there and do nothing."

Alice's grip on my shoulders tightened slightly as she gave me a sympathetic look. "I know, honey, we all felt the same," she said gently, her voice filled with understanding.

Elizabeth, who had been standing nearby with a watchful gaze, stepped forward, her expression focused and analytical. "We need to figure out why they've taken him and who exactly they are."

Clive's face hardened, a mix of anger and frustration flashing across his features. "They're bloody Valorians, that's who they are," he said, his voice laced with venom.

The shock hit me like a blow. "What?" I replied, my mind racing to process the information. "Why would they take him? What do they want with Matthew?"

Clive took a deep breath, his expression darkening further. "That's the fucking missing piece. They know who Winston is to the Prince—they know how important he is to you."

The revelation was a gut punch, sending a cold chill down my spine. The Valorians had targeted Matthew, knowing full well the emotional leverage they could gain. It was a move as cruel as it was calculated.

Marcus took a step forward, his brow furrowed in confusion and concern. "How did you find that out?" he asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and dread.

Clive glanced around the group, his eyes narrowing as he considered his next words. "I have my sources, people who keep their ears to the ground. Word's been going around that the Valorians are digging for any edge they can get in this war. When I heard they were asking about someone fitting Matthew's description... I put two and two together."

A heavy silence settled over us as the weight of Clive's words sank in. The Valorians knew who Matthew was, and they had taken him with a purpose in mind—one that could have devastating consequences if we didn't act fast.

Just then, in the distance, a figure appeared, running toward us with an urgency that made my heart race.

"Damn it, Arney, go back home!" Clive called out, recognizing the figure as it drew closer.

Arney finally reached us, panting heavily, his face flushed from the exertion. Sweat dripped from his brow as he bent over, hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath. "What happened? Where is he?" he gasped, his eyes wide with desperation.

Throne, who had been standing beside Clive, stepped forward, his expression a mix of concern and irritation. "You're in no health to be here, Arney," Throne said firmly, his tone carrying both authority and worry. "You need to rest."

Arney shook his head stubbornly, his chest heaving as he fought to regain control of his breathing. "Did the fuckers take him, did they take him, Clive?"

Clive sighed, his tough exterior softening slightly as he looked at Arney. "You're barely on your feet. Go home."

"I don't care!" Arney snapped, his voice cracking with emotion. "Matthew's like a brother to me. Did they take him?"

"Yeah Mate, they did," Throne replied, his voice low and grim.

"Fuck!" Arney swore loudly, his fists clenched in rage. "It's that bloody Lord Gregory, I'm telling you."

"Wait! What?" I called out, my heart skipping a beat. "How do you know Lord Gregory?"

Arney turned to me, his eyes blazing with anger. "Winston said so, said he recognised him when we broke into the fort. We saw him with the Valorian King."

I felt the ground shift beneath me as the truth sank in. "That traitor," I hissed, fury boiling up inside me. The pieces of the puzzle finally clicked into place. Lord Gregory, the man who had been advising my father and pushing for the deal with the Valorians, had been working with them all along. He wasn't just a traitor to the crown—he was directly responsible for Matthew's capture. "I'll fucking kill him" I seethed out.

Clive nodded, his expression dark. "Aye, but we've got to be smart about it. Gregory's not just some pawn; he's playing a long game, and he's dangerous. We can't let him know we're onto him."

Throne placed a hand on my shoulder, grounding me in the moment. "First, we get Matthew back. Then we deal with Gregory. But we need to move quickly. The longer Matthew's in their hands, the more dangerous this becomes."

"Doesn't this seem like this is what they wanted" Elizabeth called out, "Think about it, they know of Matthews relationship with the Prince. Then all of a sudden Matthew gets kidnapped. It's to draw the Sebastian to them. This seems like a trap."

Elizabeth's words hung in the air, the gravity of the situation sinking into all of us. She was right—this did seem like a trap.

Clive rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "Yeah, you're not wrong. This reeks of a setup."

"That's my girl" Alice responded, though light-hearted, carried a weight of admiration. Her words cut through the tension, briefly easing the oppressive atmosphere surrounding us.

"But we can't just leave him with them," Arney said, his voice filled with desperation. "Matthew's been through enough. We can't abandon him now."

I nodded, the turmoil inside me threatening to overwhelm my thoughts. The idea of Matthew in their hands, suffering because of me, was unbearable. "We won't leave him," I said firmly, my voice steady despite the storm raging within. "But Elizabeth's right. We need to be smart about this. We can't walk into their trap blindly."

Clive looked at me, his expression serious. "If we're going to do this, we need a plan. Something they won't expect."

"I'll gather as much information as I can on their movements," Marcus offered. "We'll find out exactly where they're holding Matthew and what kind of forces they have. If they're expecting us, we'll have to hit them from a different angle."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement. "We need to be strategic. If we play this right, we can turn their trap against them."

Arney's face was set in determination. "Whatever it takes, I'm in. We're getting him out of there."

"But we'll need a whole lot more men, depending on where Matthew is," Marcus said, furrowing his brow as he assessed the situation.

"I'll write to General Hector," I offered, my mind racing with possible strategies.

"But he's on the front lines. If he and the men leave, then the king will find out," Alice cautioned, her voice steady as she weighed the consequences.

"I don't care," I snapped, the frustration boiling over. "It's about time we actually did something. I want this Valorian king dead."

Throne raised an eyebrow, a hint of approval in his gaze. "Now that's the spirit."

I looked at each of them, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and resolve. This was more than just a rescue mission. It was a battle for Matthew's life, for justice, and for our future. "We do this together," I said, my voice unwavering. "We bring Matthew home, and we make them pay for what they've done."

With a collective nod, we set our plan in motion. There was no time to waste. Every second Matthew remained in their hands was another second of suffering, and I couldn't allow that. The Valorians had made their move, but now it was our turn. And we were going to make sure they regretted ever crossing us.