The first blow catches my jaw, snapping my head back. Pain explodes through my skull, but I keep laughing. Each punch feels distant, disconnected through the drug’s haze.
“The backup codes aren’t working either,” Marcus snarls between strikes. “What did you do?”
Blood fills my mouth. I picture Eve’s defiant smile and the way she challenges everything with that fierce spark in her eyes. The image burns brighter than the pain, anchoring me as Marcus’s fists connect again and again.
“She’s safe,” I manage through split lips, satisfaction coursing through me despite the agony. “That’s all that matters.”
Darkness creeps at the edges of my vision, but I cling to consciousness. Eve’s face floats in my mind—determined, beautiful, unstoppable. My body might be failing, but knowing she’s beyond their reach fills me with a savage kind of joy.
“You can’t… touch her.” My words slur as awareness begins to fade. “Not… anymore.”
Chapter 24
The screen’s harsh glow burns my eyes as I sort through the final pieces of evidence against my father. Bank statements. Shipping manifests. Heath’s testimony. Everything fits together like a grotesque puzzle, each piece revealing another layer of my father’s depravity.
My fingers hover over the keyboard as I draft the email that will destroy Ano Montoni. The USB drive feels ice-cold in my palm—a stark contrast to the heat of anger coursing through my veins. A lifetime investigation. Countless lives destroyed. And now, finally, justice.
“I love you.”
Remy’s words echo in my head, unwanted and impossible to ignore. My hand trembles as I plug in the USB drive, his dark gaze haunting me even now. That moment replays in my mind: his fingers gripping my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes as he laid bare his soul. And I—I stood frozen, years of walls and paranoia choking any response.
“Fuck,” I mutter, dragging my attention back to the screen. The irony isn’t lost on me. Here I am, exposing criminals while falling for a man who works in their shadows. My coffee has gone cold, and the bitter dregs match the taste in my mouth as I think of him walking into my father’s lair right now.
Documents are uploaded one by one. Each ping of confirmation draws me closer to the end. Bank records linking shell companies. Witness statements from trafficking survivors. Photos of my father with known criminals. The evidence is damning, conclusive, thanks to Heath’s keeping his promise.
A chill runs down my spine as I type the final paragraph. My father’s empire will crumble with a single click. But Remy… God, Remy is in there with him right now, playing a dangerous game of loyalty and lies. For me. The weight of that truth sits heavy in my chest.
My fingers are still on the keys. The cursor blinks accusingly, waiting for me to finish what I started. Dawn creeps closer, and somewhere in this city, the two most dangerous men in my life are facing off. I need to wait. The moment Remy comes back, I will be able to safely press the Send button.
The sharp rap of knuckles against the steel front door jolts me from my screen. My heart slams against my ribs as I twist toward the sound. Another knock—harder, more insistent—makes the reinforced door shudder in its frame.
“Fuck.” The whisper escapes through clenched teeth as I rise, every muscle drawn tight.
The pounding continues, methodical and threatening. I edge toward the security monitor. Three figures move with practiced efficiency in the hallway—their positioning speaks of military training. The same lethal grace I’ve witnessed countless times in my father’s security detail.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Miss Consoli.” A voice, calm and professional. “We know you’re inside.”
Ice floods my veins.
My gaze darts around the room, cataloging options. The ventilation shaft is too small. The windows are sealed and forty stories up. The bathroom connects to the master bedroom, but that’s a dead end.
“Final warning, Miss Consoli.”
Sweat trickles down my spine as I back away from the door. Each impact reverberates through my bones, mixing with the thunder of my pulse.
The handle jerks. Metal scrapes against metal.
I retreat to the far corner, positioning the heavy desk between me and the entrance. Then, there were shouting and screams. It seems other tenants on the floor were alerted by the ruckus and were probably calling the police as the pounding stopped.
Silence stretches, broken only by my ragged breathing. One minute. Two. The screen confirms that the men disappeared.
I sink to the floor, legs weak with relief, but my mind races with a terrifying thought: if these men are here, what’s happening to Remy?
My hands shake as I push myself off the floor, using the table for support. The silence in the apartment feels oppressive now, broken only by my unsteady breathing. Those men—their military precision, their confidence—it wasn’t random. They knew exactly where to find me.
“Think,” I whisper, pressing my palms against my temples. The timing is too perfect. Just as Remy walks into my father’s house, armed men show up at the safehouse. My stomach churns at the implications.
