Because I’m not that boy anymore—the one who lived for her approval, the one who tried to twist himself into the perfect Harrington heir.
I’m done with her.
Done with being a Harrington.
I take a step forward, my hand outstretched, ready to grab her and drag her to the police. But before I can, one of her guards moves. The click of a gun being drawn is unmistakable, and the barrel rises to point directly at my chest. I freeze. And then the other guard follows suit.
The urge to raise my hands is strong, but I don’t.
“What, Mother?” I ask, my voice steady despite the hammering in my chest. “Are you going to let them shoot me?”
“Shoot you?” Novalee’s voice cuts in.
“Snickers, what the fuck are you doing?” Koen snaps. “Get out of there!”
But I ignore them. My focus is on Veronica, on the way her expression falters, if only for a second.
“What’s the plan, Mother? End your legacy here? In a dirty alleyway?”
“That’s it,” Novalee hisses. “I’m going after him.”
“Stay in the van,” Ezra growls out. “I already told the police where they are. They’ll get to him before we can.”
My focus remains on Veronica. Her hesitation is growing, the flicker of doubt in her eyes becoming harder to hide.
“Go on,” I bait, taking another step forward, daring her to act. “Do it,Mother. Prove me right. End it all right here. I’ve destroyed everything else. Why not finish the job?”
I can hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, the sharp protests through the comms fading into the background.
Veronica’s eyes dart to the guards, then back to me, and I think she’s going to do it. I think she’s going to nod to give the order. But then she exhales sharply and waves her hand, and the guards lower their guns.
Holy-fucking-shit.
“Freeze! Hands in the air!”
I glance past Veronica and watch the police officers round the corner, guns raised. Her head whips around, her expression shifting to one of pure fury. When she turns back to me, I take a step back, my lips curling into a smirk that feels more like a goodbye than any words could, but I say it anyway, “Goodbye, Mother.”
Her eyes widen slightly as I turn and sprint. My gaze locks on the trash bin near the wall, and without breaking stride, I leap onto it. The metal rattles under my weight.
“Hey! Get down!” one of the officers yells, but I don’t stop.
From the bin, I push off, reaching for the edge of the balcony above. My grip catches, and I haul myself up, muscles straining as adrenaline propels me.
“Stop right there!” someone shouts from below, but their words are lost in the roar of blood in my ears.
I glance down briefly. Veronica is surrounded now, her guards stiff and motionless as the police bark orders, guns aimed. But I don’t stick around to watch it unfold.
Pulling myself fully onto the balcony, I take a second to catch my breath, my fingers gripping the edge as I steady myself. My heart pounds, but I can’t stop.
Jump. Land. Balance.
Repeat.
The rhythm keeps me moving, the chaos below fading into a dull roar.
“Nico, dammit, talk to me,” Novalee’s voice crackles through the comms, laced with worry. I must have gone silent too long.
Shit.
