All Chapters of Belonging to Lockhart: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

An hour later, we were gathered in Theron’s study. With us were two men his attorney, Mr. Cassian Whitmore, and the man who’d called earlier, Lazaro Flint. Mr. Whitmore was spearheading the private case against Ansel. Though the matter had been formally taken up by law enforcement and the DA’s office, Theron confided that without outside support, the case would likely collapse. Thankfully, Mr. Whitmore had influential contacts in both the NYPD and the prosecutor’s office, and had agreed to lend his weight determined to see Ansel behind bars.But it was the other man who drew my full attention.Theron described Mr. Flint as a military specialist, someone he reached out to for what he cryptically called “a special kind of approach.” I didn’t understand what that meant until the man himself walked in. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and radiated an unmistakable aura of danger. A two-millimeter buzz cut framed his square jaw, and a thick scar ran from his chin down his throat another slice

The crowd shifted, a few rising to their feet and cheering right in front of the man who looked like Ansel. Under normal circumstances, I might have laughed at their enthusiasm, but in this moment, all I could feel was irritation. Their excitement was blocking my view. It wasn't until Lucasta managed to calm them down and they returned to their seats that I realized the man was gone. His chair now stood empty. A shiver crept down my spine. Had it really been him? Or was my mind playing cruel tricks? I refused to accept it as a mere coincidence. If it had been Ansel, then security handpicked by Theron had clearly failed. If not, then whoever it was bore an uncanny resemblance to him. That in itself was suspicious. So much so that I wouldn’t even rule out the possibility that Ansel had planted a lookalike in the audience just to mess with me. I scanned the backstage and the exits. Security was stationed at every corner. Even if Ansel had managed to slip in, someone should have

AMARIS POV I tried to keep my nerves from unraveling, but with every shallow breath, my composure crumbled a little more. Wedged between two men clad in dark tactical gear, I sat stiffly in the backseat of a van, wrists bound by a nylon strap. They hadn’t bothered to restrain my feet or blindfold me an omission that sent a spike of unease slicing through me. The tinted windows offered little visibility in the dead of night, but still... not covering my eyes meant one of two things: they either didn’t believe I could retrace our route, or they didn’t expect me to live long enough to try. The only relief came from their carelessness. No one had frisked me. They’d confiscated my purse, sure, but none of them realized I’d hidden my phone elsewhere. It was tucked inside the inner pocket of my jacket, along with the only thing that resembled a weapon though it would be useless unless someone freed my hands, and that wasn’t happening anytime soon. The two men flanking me were buil

THERON POV Ordinarily, I wouldn't have dragged myself into a warzone-in-the-making. That sort of reckless mess? I would’ve left it for Lazaro and his team to handle. But this time, it wasn’t just another mission. This was personal too personal to trust in someone else’s hands. "You sure you want in on this?" Lazaro had asked while rallying his men. "Not that I doubt your aim or your fists, but" "They took her from me." My voice had been cold, unflinching. "I’ll be there to see them pay for it." And since that moment, the fire inside me only grew hotter. The red dot on our tracker pulsed over an abandoned factory isolated, derelict, and ideal for the kind of filth people liked to hide in shadows. Knowing Ami had been taken there twisted my gut in knots. Rage and fear warred inside me, rising like bile. Whoever so much as laid a hand on her was already a dead man walking. I’d never hungered for blood like this before. Not once. But the fury pulsing through me was primal,

THERON'S POV The Radiant App shattered every expectation I had. On launch day alone, it racked up over a million downloads a number that kept rising by the hour. A big chunk of that momentum came from Lucasta Fennel’s fanbase. I still hated that night the one where Ami and Lucasta went live together a memory I’d erase if I could. But no amount of regret could change the fact: that moment sent the Radiant App into viral territory. Two days after launch, our Sales Department was inundated with calls from companies eager to join the Radiant Club and offer exclusive deals to our app users. Excitement buzzed through every floor of the building except one. Dashiell Murdock. Word had it he’d already tried to stir trouble, but Ami had shut him down. Now, he was livid so much so that he’d demanded an immediate meeting with me. I’d been more than happy to grant it. “Director Murdock,” I greeted with a pleasant smile as he stormed into my office. “To what do I owe the pleasure on suc