She hears the elevator doors open.
She turns her head.
The mug slips from her hands, shattering against the concrete floor. Hot tea splashes across the toes of her boots, but she doesn't even flinch.
She stands up.
I cross the room. I don't walk. I move with a frantic, desperate urgency that I have never allowed myself to feel in my entire life.
I reach her, my arms wrapping around her waist, lifting her completely off the floor. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of vanilla and the cold city air clinging to her coat.
She wraps her arms around my neck, holding on so tightly it actually hurts. She is shaking, a full-body tremor that she can no longer suppress.
"You're out," she whispers against my skin, her voice cracking. "He actually did it. Simon actually did it."
"He did it because you gave him no other choice," I murmur, sliding my hand up to the back of her head, tangling my fingers in her messy hair. "You broke him, Audrey."
"I had to." She pulls back slightly, her hands framing my face. Her eyes are wide, searching my features for any sign of injury. She traces the red marks the handcuffs left on my wrists with her thumb. "Preston sent people to the penthouse. Grant told me. They would have found the drive if we had stayed."
"They didn't find it. Because you were smarter than them." I kiss her forehead, then her cheek, then her mouth, needing the physical contact to prove she is actually here and safe.
"I thought I lost you," she breathes against my lips. "When the police took you... I thought he won."
"He didn't win." I set her back down on her feet, but I don't let go of her waist. "Preston is out of moves. Simon betrayed him. The arson narrative is dead. The only thing Preston has left is his pride, and by the end of the week, he won't even have that."
Audrey looks up at me, the fear in her eyes slowly receding, replaced by the fierce, absolute loyalty that makes her so devastatingly dangerous.
"What happens now?" she asks quietly.
"Now," I say, my thumb brushing against the vintage diamond on her left hand, "we finish it."
I look around the cold, industrial safe house. We are off the grid. We are untraceable.
But we are not hiding.
"Preston thinks I am weakened because I resigned," I tell her, my voice dropping to a lethal, absolute register. "He thinks losing the company means I lost my power. He is about to learn that the company was the only thing keeping me polite."
I pull her back against my chest, resting my chin on the top of her head.
The war is no longer corporate. It is entirely personal.
And I am going to tear my father’s empire apart, brick by brick, until there is nothing left but the woman standing in my arms.
CHAPTER 27
AUDREY
The safe house smells like old brick and cold metal.
It is massive, completely open-concept, with high ceilings and heavy steel beams that look like they could withstand a minor earthquake. There are no floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lake here. The windows are narrow, frosted, and reinforced with security wire.
It doesn't feel like a home. It feels like a bunker.
But as Malcolm steps back, his hands sliding from my waist to grip my forearms, the cold, industrial space starts to feel infinitely warmer than the pristine luxury of the penthouse.
"I need to make a call," he says, his voice dropping back to the calm, authoritative register that means he is currently calculating three different tactical maneuvers in his head. "Grant is sweeping the perimeter. We are not leaving this building until the files are transferred."
"Transferred to who?" I ask, stepping out of his grip to pull my heavy coat off.
