Extra Bonus #93: Charlie and the Escape Room Aftermath (Patreon)

IMPORTANT: Please do not screenshot and post any part of this bonus scene to other sites or share with non-patrons. All of the Patreon content is exclusive to Patreon and for current patron's eyes only.  Thank you!! xoxo Krista & Becca

RESOURCES:  Check out this narrative timeline graphic to visually see when this bonus scene takes place.

SPOILER WARNING: There are spoilers from BURN BRIGHT in this bonus scene. We highly recommend reading the book for reading this bonus.

IT’S DRIZZLING on and off tonight because of course it is. My prepared ass would normally pack a rain jacket, but I’m not traipsing around Seattle or Bern with Charlie. I’m in NYC, and I didn’t think security would be cast out of the venue.

The venue in question is right before me. I’m staring at a hole-in-the-wall escape room.

Or rather, a Manhattan brownstone. We had two minutes to even assess what our clients were walking into before Eliot assured us that they’d be fine and that we should wait outside.

It tanked my mood.

I am surly and hungry…verging on hangry. I haven’t eaten since this afternoon with Jack. We only had fifteen minutes together at Empanada Mama before Charlie called and said he was leaving for the Met. But damn if those weren’t the best fifteen minutes of my whole day.

Not that protecting Charlie has been a headache. It’s been typical up until now. My husband is just going to reign supreme when it comes to the best anything.

“You want in, Oliveira?” Ian Wreath—Tom’s bodyguard and the current Epsilon lead—asks me.

I wish he were talking about wanting in the venue.

But Ian is huddled with his brother, Vance, and also Chris Novak and Chris O’Malley near the cement stairs of the brownstone. While we wait for our clients to come out, they’ve been discussing putting together a fantasy football league in SFE.

My natural instinct is to say no.

I don’t follow football. I know more about the bloodbath happening to the Phillies. There’s no chance they’ll make the playoffs this year. And I’m not going to come out on top in a fantasy league with the Wreath brothers who live and die by football. I bet they track player stats.

However, it’s smarter to participate, be the professional I am, and not act like they have fucking cooties.

Since I’m Omega and they’re Epsilon, I am the odd man out at times, and I have to take any olive branch they toss me. Last thing I want is for this job to be harder because of coworkers and because I can’t put the past behind me.

All five of us are constantly thrown together. We’re the ones protecting the American gods.

“Yeah, I’ll join. What does it cost?” I ask, side-eyeing the venue’s entrance. The wet stone steps up to the front door. No movement. No one has exited.

“Hundred bucks to play.”

I’m going to lose a hundred bucks just to kiss Epsilon’s ass. Redford better never hear of this. Fuck, Donnelly better not find out. That motherfucker will be taunting me with football facts into the holidays.

“You can Venmo me,” Ian says.

I take out my cell and a fat raindrop pelts me in the eye. Christ.

Times like this, I do wish Donnelly were still Beckett’s full-time bodyguard so I could complain about the rain to him and not care about whining to SFE.

But I’m glad he’s protecting his girlfriend’s little brother.

It’s even better he’s back in Hell’s Kitchen with me. Old times but better times. He’s the happiest I’ve seen him, and I know it’s mostly because of Luna.

I shift closer to Epsilon, trying to care about whatever quarterback they’re pissed the Bills snagged. I’m so motherfucking hungry, I hear my stomach growl over my concentration.

We all cast short, instinctive glances at the entrance. Everyone is on edge being out here, but our clients are free to reject our professional opinions on securing venues.

The plastic bag in O’Malley’s hand keeps buzzing. It contains all our client’s cellphones. At least Beckett had enough sense to call his bodyguard to come collect their phones and not hand them to the escape room manager. One who resisted even signing an NDA until Novak stared him down like he’d eat his entrails if he didn’t.

I feel my stomach grumble again. After thinking about cannibalism. Good God, this is going to be a long night.  

“Whose phone keeps going off?” Vance asks.

O’Malley peeks in the bag. “I think it’s more than one.”

Novak eagle-eyes the bag like he wants to reach his hand into the cookie jar. If only there were real cookies in there. Fuck, if only that were a bag of Doritos.

Novak threads his arms over his linen shirt. He rocks on his feet, antsy. “It’s probably Ben’s phone. He’s always texting.”

“Mr. Popular,” I say, not shocked Ben has many friends vying for his attention. He was my first client when I joined security ten years ago. Even as a kid, Ben made friends like it was a natural entity to the day. Brush your teeth, pack your lunch, befriend two students walking into school, come out with ten more.

Novak gestures to the bag. “O’Malley will you—”

“No.” O’Malley shakes his head. “Bad idea.”

I watch the entrance. “Invasion of privacy, bro,” I tell Novak. “You’re not his parent.”

“Yeah, but he’s been running off from me more than usual. Shouldn’t we see who’s contacting him? For his safety?”

“No,” Ian and Vance say in unison. Then Ian adds, “He’s nineteen. It’s normal for the teenagers to yank on the leash, especially when they become adults.”

“You don’t want to break his trust,” Vance cautions. “That’ll do the inverse, man.” The Wreath brothers never tattle on Tom and Eliot to their parents.

But Novak is frustrated since his client is the one pulling away from security at the moment. Given I have the Great Disappearing Act as a client, I am well-versed in the art of keeping up with a vanishing storm.

“We’ve all dealt with this at some point, bro,” I remind him. “They don’t like having security all the time.”

Rose and Connor have never let their children prance around the city without literal protection—even when they become adults.

This year, I’d have to agree with the extra precaution. We’re coming off a kidnapping and assault in the Hale family. The worst is in the back of our minds. 

It’s why we’re all scanning our surroundings on this sidewalk in the middle of the night.

Novak looks conflicted. I wonder if he knows something we don’t know about Ben. But I don’t prod for those juicy details.

I maintain Charlie’s privacy by not blabbing to security, and I wouldn’t rip information out of another bodyguard if I wouldn’t want it being done to me.

O’Malley wipes the drizzle of warm rainwater out of his face. “He might just have a secret girlfriend he’s trying to keep from the family and security.”

Ian says it before I do, “Isn’t he dating the girl he brought tonight?”

“Harriet Fisher,” I name the girl inside the escape room with the Cobalt brothers.

Because of Donnelly, I know more about Harriet than Epsilon do. But look at me, keeping my motherfucking mouth shut. I’m not oversharing about how she gave a blowjob to her professor at Penn just to help Luna with a lab assignment.

“I think she’s just friends with Ben,” Novak says, eyeing the door. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if they end up dating.”

“Hundred bucks they become official by December,” I tell him.

All of Epsilon exchange looks like I’m an asshole for wanting to bet on clients.

Good God I miss my friends.

I release an irritable groan from the back of my throat. “I’m not betting on Ben falling in a ditch and breaking his leg. I’m putting good vibes into the universe here. Legitimate, wholesome love for the sixth-born Cobalt.” I glance around. “No one? Anyone?”

“Two hundred they stay friends,” Vance says.

I grin. Now this is the kind of investment I like. I know these families too well. Call me a Cobalt Empire statistician. The odds are in my favor.

I check the time.

My grin fades into a frown.

Five more minutes pass, and I start to worry. Charlie being stuck in an escape room for longer than an hour isn’t good news for anyone. I would’ve thought he’d get himself out of there by now.

Now I’m stressed and hangry.

It’s my last thought before the door to the brownstone whips open too harshly.

We all turn as a petite blonde rushes outside like she’s escaping hell.

What the fuck.

Tears streak Harriet’s round cheeks—a girl who’d been glaring when she first showed up. She now looks pulverized. My empty stomach clenches.

Can admit—I did not predict this.

“Shit,” O’Malley curses behind me.

She’s staring down at her boots that quickly touch each wet stone step and reach the sidewalk where we stand.

We’re all watching her, skimming her for deeper signs of distress. I don’t see a physical injury. She has on a crop top and low-rise pants. I think she arrived with a jacket. Not sure where she left that. She avoids us, and unease triggers my body to react—I’m torn between checking on her and finding Charlie.

Eliot appears on the stoop with concerned blue eyes. “Harriet!” he calls after her.

“I’m fine!” she yells backward but doesn’t cast a glance in his direction or ours.

I can’t just stand here.

Stomach in knots, I bypass Tom who sprints down the stairs in panic and runs after Ben’s friend. Ben’s friend. Charlie and Ben don’t see eye to eye, and an easy shot at Ben would be to hurt the girl he likes.

I can feel the accusations from SFE drilling into my back as I head toward the brownstone.

I’m more afraid Charlie isn’t okay. He doesn’t cause conflict for shits and giggles, but it is likely he’s the source.

“STOP!” I hear Tom’s cracking voice fade behind me as I slip inside. “HARRIET!”

It takes less than a minute to find the destroyed parlor. Glass everywhere. Books scattered and overturned. I’m unsurprised at the destruction.

Beckett is pleading with Charlie in soft, urgent French to tell him what happened. Charlie rests his ass on the armrest of the sofa. Not responding. Then his yellow-green eyes rise to mine, and Becket follows his gaze, rotating and stiffening when he sees they’re not alone.

“Where’s Ben?” I ask.

“The bathroom,” Beckett says more to Charlie, his twin brother. “I’m going to get Pip.” He squeezes past me to leave, and I wait in the doorway for my client. I’m not overthinking what might’ve happened. It’s a puzzle that’ll slowly become whole.

Charlie has his arms loosely threaded, staring off at the place where Beckett disappeared. “I hate angering him.” He grimaces as he bends his knees and comes toward me, intaking a sharper breath. This can’t be his right leg. This looks like both knees are causing pain.

I notice blood near the fireplace. “Keating.”

He digs out his cigarettes. “I don’t need Farrow.”

Like hell. “You’re bleeding.”

“That’s her blood.”

My face falls, then hardens on him. “Bro.” He knows I’m adding all the pieces in seconds. “You both were kneeling on glass. Beckett caught you?”

“Caught implies we were doing something illicit.” He lights a cigarette between his lips, and he gestures me to lead the way.

Of course I do. “What were you doing then?”

“Trying to understand the girl my brother is falling for,” Charlie says, takes a long drag, and I’m texting Redford on one hand. He sees. “Don’t call Farrow for me. Tom needs him more. And Harriet, if she isn’t already on the subway.”

My brows cinch. “What’s wrong with Tom?” I remember his cracking voice before Charlie even confirms he strained his vocal cords screaming.

Not even remotely shocked.

In the foyer of the brownstone, I make one last plea. “If you have glass in your knees, it needs to come out.”

“I’m fine.” Charlie holds my challenging gaze with steadiness. Anyone would think he’s absolutely, terrifically fine in the way he smokes without care. He lifts his brows, waiting to see if I have another point to make.

“Don’t do this to yourself tonight.”

“Tonight, tomorrow, seven years from now—it’s all the same, Oscar.”

“It’s not.”

“Says my friend who’s surprised by nothing because it’s all just so predictable by now.”

He almost gets me there. “The Cobalt Empire does manage to surprise me every now and then. I didn’t expect the only girl among five Cobalt boys to run out crying tonight.”

He sucks on the cigarette, then blows out to the side. His eyes glaze in a thought. “That doesn’t look great.” He rubs his thumb in the corner of his eye. “I don’t want the headache of having to explain this night to our irate mother.”

“There’s no paparazzi outside.”

He eases a fraction.

Once we’re outside, Eliot tries to confront his oldest brother about Harriet, but Charlie gives him the coldshoulder and heads to a lamppost to lean against.

“Charlie,” Eliot calls out, spreading his arms open. “Brother.” Then he looks to me for answers.

“If he’s not telling Beckett, then he’s not telling you,” I say simply.

“He didn’t tell Beckett?” Tom wheezes out. “Fuck.”

Charlie slips me an appreciative glance, then smokes quietly against the lamppost while Tom paces with hands threaded on his head. Eliot tries to calm him down, then asks me about Ben.

“He’s coming out with Beckett.”

Probably very soon.

I predict right again. In seconds, Ben storms down the stone steps and aims for one person. Locked in on his oldest brother. Ready to tear his head off.

Charlie rolls his eyes at Ben’s uncontained rage.

“Charlie!” Ben screams. “What the fuck did you do?!”

He flicks his cigarette and scuffs it with his loafer on the pavement. We’re not supposed to intervene between the brothers, but with Eliot here, he’ll do the job for me. He does, putting his hands on Ben’s chest and forcing him away from Charlie.

I speak more in comms to SFE as we devise how we’ll leave and maintain a secure parameter on the sidewalk. It’s late, but there are pedestrians and side-eyes and double glances as they recognize the Cobalts. I haven’t seen a phone hoisted yet, but we need to go.

Ben wants to find Harriet, and soon, all the brothers pack into a Range Rover except for Charlie. I have the keys to the car.

Charlie limps over to the passenger door. “You could always run me over. Save me from this next mind-numbing conversation.”

“Face your brothers, Keating.”

He sighs, then swings open the door and climbs into the car.

I’m behind the wheel. “Where are we headed, Ben?” After he gives me Harriet’s address, I concentrate on driving and communicating with SFE in the other Range Rover tailing us. The conversation in the car isn’t a dog-pile on Charlie, but they are all trying to pry details out of him he’s not willingly giving.

Tom’s voice sounds like shit.

I’m more worried he’s seriously injured something. Farrow texts back during the ride that he’s on his way. Positive of the night: I get to see one of my best friends. Downside: it’s under these circumstances.

As I pull up to Harriet’s apartment complex, Ben unbuckles. “All of you stay here.” He’s impatient as fuck, and his insistence to do this without his brothers gives me pause.

Eliot has already snapped off his seatbelt. “As you wish.” He leans tightly backward.

Beckett tells Ben, “Let us know if you find her.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Right as I park, Ben starts to open the door, and I say fast, “Wait for your bodyguard. The other vehicle is stuck at red light.” Epsilon has repeated four times, Don’t let them exit the car without us present.  

Ben is already halfway out the fucking Range Rover.

“Ben!” I yell. Fuck. I turn off the ignition. “Novak is going to love this.”

“Charlie,” Beckett says in concern.

“I know.” He unbuckles. “You stay. I’ll go with Oscar.”

I’m in a full-blown comms fight with Novak while Charlie and I leave the Range Rover behind and go into this dingy apartment complex. “I can’t control Ben,” I whisper. “He isn’t going to wait for God tonight with this girl missing. You think he’d wait for you?”

“Just keep an eye on him,” Novak says in a tight breath.

I feel for him. I do. Because I know what it’s like chasing after someone you care deeply about and that someone not always wanting to be found.

Charlie strolls up beside Ben who’s fixated on the elevator as he waits for it to drop to the echoey lobby. I linger behind, still on comms, but I’m watching a young girl grab mail from a brass box. She’s staring directly at Charlie and his black V-neck cardigan, his tousled golden-brown hair, his angelic features—easily recognizable as the second-born Cobalt. Firstborn son.

Ben has several inches on Charlie beside him, but Charlie carries himself like the oldest brother. Even as Ben frowns over at him and says, “I told you to stay in the car.”

“And I didn’t. Whoops.” Charlie notices the girl and holds out a hand to Ben. “Give me your hat.”

Ben tucks his baseball cap from his back pocket. Unfurling it before handing the thing to Charlie.

He dips the brim over his eyes. Laughable disguise, but I’ll give him some credit for trying. He doesn’t want to deal with any more people tonight.

It’s now that Ben studies the length of his brother. But I can’t observe them more than their surroundings right now.

“Are you bleeding?” Ben suddenly asks Charlie, his voice trapping in his throat.

“It’s nothing.” Charlie stares straight at the elevator, sounding unfeeling.

It’s not nothing. I send him a hard look of concern, and I sincerely hope Ben can see that I’m worried about Charlie. Someone else needs to tell him to take the motherfucking glass out of his motherfucking knees.

Because I’m afraid he’s not going to listen to me tonight.

HARRIET FISHER WASN’T at her apartment. We found her in a parking deck. Where she’d been in her car. Turns out, she offered to blow Charlie in exchange for him to stop being an asshole to his little brother. Cobalt chaos ensued.

One for the history books. Donnelly’s jaw will be on the floor, but I can’t even say I’m that shocked. It’s not that I know what’s coming next. It’s that the wildest events can’t throw me for a loop anymore, but I love being kept on my toes. I love moving constantly like we have tonight.

I can’t imagine I’d enjoy being anyone else’s bodyguard. Not after being on Charlie’s detail for so long.

Farrow bandaged Harriet’s knees already. And Charlie’s. Beckett had been able to convince him to remove the glass when Harriet and Ben were having a conversation in her Honda.

Now I watch the Audi peel out as Farrow leaves, driving Eliot and Tom to Philly so he can check out Tom’s throat.

Ian and Vance followed in the other security vehicle. Which has left me, O’Malley, and Novak with one car and our three clients.

Ben wants to walk Harriet to her apartment before we drive back to our Hell’s Kitchen high-rise where we all live.

“I’m leaving now,” Charlie tells his brothers. 

“I’ll be five minutes,” Ben assures him.

“Can you wait?” Beckett asks Charlie, torn between his two brothers.

“You can just go on ahead, Ben,” Harriet says, slinging her bookbag on her shoulder and shutting her Honda. “I know how to get back to my apartment. It’s literally right here.”

Ben scrapes a hand through his hair. “No, I’m making sure you get home okay. Charlie can wait. Or I can take an Uber—”

“You’re not taking a rideshare,” Beckett cuts in. “Charlie.”

“I’m taking a rideshare,” Charlie says. He passes Beckett, whispering in his ear, then Beckett whispers back before they give a short side-hug goodbye.

Charlie doesn’t offer the same goodbye to Ben. I wish he would, but Ben doesn’t seem to expect it.

I follow my client out of the parking garage as my stomach eats itself. I swear if my baby sis ate all the arroz e feijão in the fridge, I might kick her out of my apartment. Might. Maybe.

Maybe not.

Jo can stay. She just better have left more than a handful of grapes in there.

Charlie checks his phone on the curb.

“Want me to call it?” I waft my white button-down that suctions to my abs with sweat from this humid night and the previous drizzle.

“Actually, let’s walk.” He shoves his phone in his pocket. “This way.” He’s not limping anymore, so I don’t protest.

“How far?” I ask.

“And take away from the surprise?” Charlie teases, knowing I love the excitement of the unknown.

Makes the predictable a little less predictable.

“I’d love to be surprised, but I’m about to eat the concrete, I’m so…” hungry. I trail off as Charlie pushes his back against a glass door of a late-night pizza joint.

His lips tic upward. “Surprise.”

I almost throw my hands in the motherfucking air. “I could kiss you, bro.”

“Please don’t. We’re just barely coming out of the Oslie rumors.”

I laugh at the joke and push ahead of him. Not letting him enter first. “Good thing I’m a married man.” I’m winning big time tonight. The pizza place is empty. No one but a bored college-aged kid scrolling on his phone and several humongous pies waiting to be eaten in the display.

 I order a New York slice topped with five different meats.

Charlie orders plain cheese.

“So basic.”

“I’m not that hungry,” he admits, but as we settle at a plastic table, he eats the pizza with a fork and a knife. I usually give him shit for it, but I can’t tonight. My mouth is too full.

I’m groaning into each bite, and Charlie tries to smile. But he glances over at the blinking florescent light near the window, a neon red open sign hanging crooked.

I watch him stare off, and I’m about to ask if he wants to talk about it. He senses the lingering question in the air.

Because he tells me, “Not tonight.”

Oh how we love being able to write this moment from Oscar's POV! We hope you all enjoyed this extra perspective of the Escape Room night as much as we loved writing it. It's definitely a treat to have Oscar's point-of-view still readily available to write with. And we can't wait to keep adding more with Ben and Harriet! All great things to come as September wraps up.

Thank you for reading and for being here this month. We'll have more content on the way for October, including the return of Frog & Quinn and another Burn Bright bonus + plus the Monthly Podcast that'll be all about Beckett, Joana, and Leo.

xoxo Krista & Becca

 “Charlie and the Escape Room Aftermath," Copyright © 2025 by K.B. Ritchie