Chapter 16: Forbidden Fruit

December 17th. 4:11 AM.

The penthouse bedroom was cloaked in the soft, intimate glow of a single bedside lamp. The light cast a thin, honeyed halo that seemed to physically wall off the blizzard raging outside, separating their world from the cold, turbulent night.

Ava was deeply submerged in the duvet, her sleep a torturous, restless ordeal. Her dreams were an inferno. She saw Nora lying motionless in a pool of blood; she saw Ivy kneeling in the relentless rain, her face contorted by grief and despair; she saw Landon Rourke methodically tearing the humiliating contract into strips, forcing her to swallow each piece. She struggled to scream, but no sound escaped her throat, her mouth filling only with the sickening, metallic taste of blood.

A sudden, intense warmth pressed against the back of her neck.

Ava jolted awake, drenched in a cold sweat that clung to her silk nightgown. Sebastian was kneeling on the bed behind her. His black silk robe was loose, revealing the fresh, pale scratches on his collarbone—marks she had inflicted during her breakdown the previous night.

He hadn't turned on the main lights. Using only the dim, amber glow of the lamp, he gently drew her backward, pressing her spine against the solid, scorching heat of his chest, his chin resting lightly on the crown of her head.

“A nightmare again?” His voice was a low, resonant rasp, like rough silk against her ear.

Ava was trembling violently. She nodded, then shook her head, unable to articulate the depth of her terror. A sudden, overwhelming tide of anguish choked her, rendering her mute. Tears began to fall, hot and uncontrollable, splashing onto his forearm with a startling, almost painful intensity.

Sebastian didn't press her for an explanation. He simply tightened his arms, pulling her entire body into his embrace, attempting to forge her into his bone and sinew. Ava buried her face deep into the hollow of his neck, her hot, shuddering breaths ghosting against his Adam’s apple. She wept with the profound, devastating sorrow of a lost child.

“Brother…” her voice was fragmented, fractured by sobs. “I’m so afraid… afraid Mom won't make it past next spring… afraid I won’t be able to protect either of you… afraid I won’t even be able to save myself in the end…”

Sebastian’s hand moved to her sweat-soaked hair, stroking it with a slow, hypnotic rhythm. His voice dropped to a near-religious whisper, thick with devotion. “Don’t be afraid. You have me.”

He lowered his head and pressed a long, lingering kiss onto her damp forehead, holding his lips there, as if trying to brand his warmth directly onto her skin. Ava closed her eyes, instinctively seeking more contact, burrowing deeper into his embrace. Her fingers fisted around the lapel of his silk robe, her knuckles white with desperation. They were pressed infinitesimally close, close enough to hear the desperate, synchronized pounding of their hearts, yet separated by the thin barrier of cloth—a vast, uncrossable chasm.

Sebastian’s throat convulsed with a hard swallow. His voice was a strained, trembling whisper. “Any closer, and there will be no turning back.”

Ava didn’t retreat. Instead, she tightened her hold on him, her voice barely audible, shaking with the risk she was taking. “Then don’t go back.”

She lifted her head, her nose brushing against the sharp angle of his jaw, their breaths mingling, becoming one ragged rhythm. Sebastian’s pupils contracted sharply. The pressure of his fingers on her lower back increased, dangerously close to crushing her bones. He lowered his head further, his lips hovering an agonizing millimeter above hers, but stopped, suspended in the unbearable tension.

They remained locked in that terrifying, precarious position. Neither moved an inch closer. Their breathing grew heavy, ragged, erratic—two finely honed blades poised to strike, each refusing to be the one to draw the first blood, refusing to sever the fragile bond of brother and sister.

Finally, Sebastian closed his eyes, his voice cracking with the effort of control. “…I am afraid I won’t be able to stop myself.”

A fresh wave of tears tracked down Ava’s cheeks, but she managed a small, sad smile. Her voice was a mere sigh. “Then don’t stop. But this is the limit.”

She reached up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips fleetingly against the prominent, throbbing vein of his throat. Her tongue traced the pulsing artery—a soft, deliberate claim—then she retreated by half an inch. Sebastian’s knuckles cracked audibly, but he only lowered his forehead to rest against hers, his voice dropping to a harsh, desperate growl.

“You will drive me insane.”

“I know,” Ava whispered softly. “But this is all I can give you.”

She reached down, her palm settling over his fiercely beating heart. Her fingertip followed the line of the scratch she had inflicted last night, trailing down the center of his chest, stopping exactly at the border of his dressing gown. She refused to move any further. Sebastian’s breathing devolved into gasps. He threaded his fingers through her hair, his forehead still pressed to hers, his voice trembling with desire and agony.

“You know I want more than this.”

“I know.” Ava’s tears fell faster now, pooling on their intertwined skin. “But I cannot give you more. Because if we cross that line, we are truly lost.”

She paused, her voice so faint it was almost a thought. “Brother, you are my sole weakness, but you are also my sharpest weapon. I cannot bear to destroy you, and I cannot afford to destroy myself.”

Sebastian was silent for a prolonged, agonizing moment. In the end, he didn't move forward. He simply pulled her back against his chest, holding her crushingly tight, as if trying to absorb her into his own flesh. They held each other, closer than any two people should be, yet separated by an infinite, impassable emotional distance.

The fire in the hearth slowly died down, leaving the room illuminated only by the faint light of the lamp and filled only with the sound of two frantic heartbeats and the gentle patter of snow against the windowpanes.

---

December 17th. 8:30 AM. London, Private Hangar.

An unmarked Gulfstream G650 stealthily slid out of the secured hangar. Inside the cabin, Nora lay in a dedicated critical care bed, her life signs stable but fragile. Sebastian stood by the cabin door, conducting a final, meticulous check of all medical equipment. His silver-gray eyes were cold and sharp as ice.

He glanced down at his phone. Ava's last message was three simple, worried words: [Brother, be careful.]

He typed his reply: [Wait for me to return.]

As the jet lifted off, he opened an encrypted tablet. The screen displayed a complex, real-time map of Landon Rourke’s entire global financial liquidity. He tapped the screen, marking seven of the largest, most vital arteries of Rourke’s cash flow for "Interception," but he held the command. He had to wait. He would wait until Landon was at the apex of his arrogance, and then he would sever the throat in one swift, unforgiving cut.

---

December 17th. 2:00 PM. Manhattan, Voss Group Headquarters.

Landon was presiding over a global board meeting, lecturing his directors with his usual blend of arrogance and financial genius. Suddenly, all the high-definition monitors in the room flickered and died. A moment later, a line of blood-red text flashed across every single screen:

[WARNING: YOU HAVE TARGETED THE WRONG PERSON.] [RETURN ALL MEDICATION AND ISSUE A PUBLIC APOLOGY WITHIN 24 HOURS. OTHERWISE, FACE THE CONSEQUENCES.]

Landon stared at the screen, the cigarette held between his fingers snapping and falling to the expensive carpet.

He shot to his feet, his voice dropping to a low, vicious snarl. “Find them! Find out who this is, immediately!”

His technical assistant’s face was ashen. “Sir… we can’t trace the source. Every single trace has been completely wiped clean… it’s like… like the last time, ten years ago…”

Landon’s pupils contracted violently. He remembered, suddenly and chillingly, the phantom who had appeared a decade ago, slicing him three times in the darkness without ever revealing a face. He had believed that ghost to be dead.

Now, he was back.

---

December 17th. 9:00 PM. Ava’s Penthouse Apartment.

Ava emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a plush bathrobe, her hair still damp. She found Sebastian sitting on the sofa, surrounded by a scatter of heavily encrypted documents.

He looked up, his expression calm. “The medicine. I retrieved it.”

Ava froze, speechless. Sebastian pushed a small, temperature-controlled box toward her. Inside, neatly stacked, were twenty-four doses of the pale blue serum—double the amount Landon had withheld.

“How did you do that?” Her voice was trembling.

Sebastian stood, walking toward her. His fingers reached out, tilting her chin up, his voice low and smoky. “I told you. I will be the one who gets his hands dirty.”

He leaned down, intending to kiss her, but stopped just when their lips were about to touch.

Their breaths merged and tangled. Neither moved forward.

Finally, Sebastian simply rested his forehead against hers, his voice a strained whisper. “One day, I will have them all beneath my heel.”

“When that day comes, you only have to stand beside me and watch.”

Tears escaped Ava’s eyes, but she smiled, a soft, fragile sound. “Good. But brother, promise me you’ll come back.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

The snow continued to fall softly outside. The fire in the fireplace roared to life again, illuminating their overlapping shadows.

They stood pressed together, closer than ever, yet separated by the greatest distance. They were two of the world's sharpest, most dangerous blades, leaning on each other for support, yet neither daring to draw blood from the other.

Because they both knew, with absolute certainty, that if they crossed the line, there would be no going back.

But they also knew that this fire, ignited long ago, was destined to burn.