“We need a plan,” Sterling says, but he’s not arguing. He’s assessing. His eyes have that sharp, predatory gleam that means he’s already calculating every outcome. “Cam can’t run. Lila’s concussed.”
“Then I go alone,” I say.
Sterling catches my arm, spinning me to face him. His grip is iron this time—undeniable. His blue eyes are electric, furious. “You don’t get to martyr yourself,” he growls. “Not after what I just watched you survive. Not after I just..” He cuts himself off, his jaw working, the words he almost said hanging between us.
“After you just what?” I challenge, stepping into his space. “After you watched me execute a man?”
“After I realized I’d burn every damn bridge, break every fucking law, and damn my own god-forsaken soul just to keep you breathing,” he snaps. The admission hangs between us, raw and bleeding. “So no. You don’t get to run off half-cocked to die in some fucking lab. We do this together. We do this smart. And we come back alive.”
The silence stretches. Cam clears his throat. “I can get you schematics. Floor plans. But I need time. Four hours minimum.”
“What if we finish this where it started?” I say quietly, lost in thought. “Not at some facility. At Hawthorne Manor. That will lure him away from the Nesting House and give us some time.”
Sterling’s brow furrows. “You want to walk into his trap?”
“No,” I say, looking down at my hands, at the blood still crusted under my nails that refuses to scrub out. “I want tosetone.” I pick up the burner phone from the table, turning it over slowly in my hands. “He thinks I’m broken, that executing Asher scared me into submission. And that I’ll come crawling back ready to sign his papers and be his dutiful daughter again.” I meet Sterling’s eyes. “So let him think that.”
Cam leans forward, wincing as he shifts his injured arm. “You’re going to lure him to the manor?”
“Two days from now,” I say, the plan crystallizing as I speak. “Not tonight. We need time to prepare the grounds. But he’ll agree to a meeting if he thinks I’m surrendering. If he thinks I have no fight left in me.”
Sterling studies me, calculating every angle. “You’re proposing we turn your childhood home into a kill box. In forty-eight hours.”
“I’m proposing we give him what he wants,” I correct. “A broken little girl coming home to Daddy. He’ll expect me to meet him there because it’s where he holds power—it’s where he killed her, where he thinks I’m still eight years old and watching through that peephole, too terrified to scream.” One by one, I meet everyone's eyes. “But this time, I won’t be the one looking through the hole. I’ll be the one behind him.”
Lila looks between us, her face pale but determined. “What about the Nesting House? The girls?”
“We hit the manor first,” I say. “Wade has the passwords. The access codes. Everything we need to burn that facility to the ground is in his head or on his phone. We take him out, we take control of Hawthorne Corp, and then we save them. But we do it on our timeline, not his.”
Sterling nods slowly, the predator in him waking up. “Two days will give us enough time to set it up and see what files we can access. Cam can remote-access the security system and loop the feeds. I can scout the servant passages.” He looks at me. “But you have to sell it. The text has to make him believe you’re done fighting.”
I stare at the phone screen; Wade’s last message stares back at me, cold and mocking in its familiarity.I’m proud of you, Sunshine. Now come home.My thumbs hover over the keyboard.
Me: I’m tired. I’m done. I’ll sign the papers.
But I want to do it at the house. Where Mom
died. Two days. Midnight. Come alone, or I
disappear forever.
I show it to Sterling. “It’s good. It feeds his ego. Makes him think you’re seeking his approval one last time.”
“He’ll agree,” I say, hitting send before I can second-guess myself. “He’s arrogant enough to think I’d come back to the scene of the crime to validate the transfer. That I’d want his blessing in the same room where he slit her throat.” The phone buzzes almost immediately.
Dad: I knew you’d see reason.
I’ll be there. Don’t keep me waiting, Sunshine.
The childhood nickname crawls over my skin like ants. I set the phone down, suddenly exhausted. “He’s coming.”
“Then we have work to do,” Sterling says, turning to Cam. “Can you hack the manor’s security from here? Give us eyes on every room?”
Cam’s fingers are already flying across the keyboard. “I can loop the exterior cameras and disable the motion sensors on the west wing. But I’ll need the architectural plans. The blueprints for the servant passages Kiera mentioned.”
“I have them,” I chime in. “I bought them years ago. The tunnel from the gardener’s shed, the peepholes in the walls, the old servant stairs. If he knew about the peepholes…he never did say.”
Sterling says grimly, “Lila, you’re on perimeter. If he brings backup, if anyone follows him, you’re our eyes.”
