Military-grade. Fully armored. Armed. Vehicles that don’t just get you into hell—they get you out.
Kai’s team is already there, waiting. Half a dozen men, all sharp eyes and controlled posture. You can see it in how they move—in the way their hands rest casually near weapons and how they scan every entrance without seeming to. They’re not just security—they're operators. Trained to protect, extract, eliminate. No questions asked.
They know exactly who they work for. Most of them are ex-military, sure, but this isn't just about the paycheck.
They're not mercenaries.
You don’t survive in the Kingstons' world without loyalty. Because if you betray them, there isn’t a place on Earth you can hide. Theywillfind you. And what comes next—well, everyone in this garage already knows.
Two armored SUVs and an RPV—heavily fortified, minimum B7 armor—stand ready. I don’t even need to ask; I know the SUVs are modified too. Probably reinforced chassis, bullet-resistant glass, maybe a few surprises under the hood.
We split up, three vehicles, tight formation. The garage doors open in perfect sync, and we roll out like we’re heading straight into a war zone.
Because maybe we are.
This feels bigger than a rescue. This feels like the first shot in something much larger.
And whatever we’re about to unleash—I have a feeling none of us are ready for it.
Chapter forty-one
Ava
“Youshouldn’thaveleftme, Ava. I gave you gifts. I was patient.”
He’s not talking to me. He’s talking at me. I barely react anymore. I don’t even flinch.
But inside, I’m begging.
Please. Someone. Elijah…
“Don’t get your hopes up,” George sneers, his voice dripping with condescension. “My men will take out your little lover boy before he even has a chance to step inside.”
My men.The words hit me harder than I expect.
“Your men?” I repeat, forcing my voice to stay light—sweet, almost playful—even though my stomach is twisting in knots. “Since when does a real estate agent havemen, George? What exactly have you gotten yourself into?”
He leans in close, his breath hot against my ear, and his mask of fake charm vanishes.
“Since you decided to divorce me before I could use you to serve my purpose—and made me lose millions,” he hisses.
I flinch at the venom in his voice, but I don't let him see it.
And then—I hear it.
A metallic pop. A low click of a lock giving way.
And then the crash.
A door slams open. Not kicked. Blown.
Boots thunder on concrete.
Voices, sharp and decisive:
“North wall clear.”
“Visual confirmed.”
