Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 221 - Chapitre 230

**Shawn's POV** I'm in the car before I've fully decided where to start looking for Stella. The engine is running. My hands are on the wheel. I'm staring at the road without seeing it because every functioning part of my brain is occupied with a single image on repeat — Stella's taken by Dmitri for revenge. I know he won't let her go easily. I pick up my phone and dial his number because that's the only choice I have right. It rings twice before he answers. "Well." His voice arrives warm, almost amused — like a man settling into a comfortable chair. "That was fast. I genuinely didn't expect to hear from you this quickly." A pause weighted with satisfaction. "How can I help you, Shawn?" The words land like a deliberate provocation. He knows exactly what they are. "You know why I'm calling," I say, keeping my voice level, because I need to stay level if I'm going to negotiate with him. "Don't play games with me." "Games." He says it like he is tasting the word. "I'm not playin

**Shawn's POV** "The first — back off from Stella. Permanently. When I am with her, you give us the room. Whether she asks you to stay or not, whether she wants you there or not — you remove yourself. I cannot court a woman properly when her shadow is always three steps behind her making meaningful eye contact." He holds my gaze. "You give me that space and you don't interfere. That's condition one." The room is very quiet. "And the second?" I say. "An apology." He says it simply, like it costs him nothing to ask. "For my date. You showed up and you ruined it, and I think we both know you did that deliberately." He pauses. "And for the morning after in my apartment. You came in there accusing me of drugging her — throwing it in my face like you had already decided I was guilty and just needed me to confirm it." "And what proof do I have that you didn't?" I say. "You had motive. " Ezekiel looks at me for a moment. Not offended. Not defensive. Just steady, in that particular

**Stella's POV**"I had nothing to do with what happened to Hank." My voice comes out harder than I meant it to. I don't soften it. "Whatever Shawn did, whatever business you two had — I was not part of it. I am not part of it. I shouldn't even be here.""No," Dmitri agrees pleasantly. "Probably not. But here you are.""If you want to go after Shawn, then go after Shawn." I gesture at the room around me. "Using me like this — it's cowardly. And pointless. I have nothing to do with any of this.""You have everything to do with it." He says it the way someone states a fact they have no feelings about. "Shawn killed my business partner. You want to know why? Because Hank took you." He tilts his head. "A man does not tear apart another man's operation over a woman he doesn't care about."A sound comes out of me — short and sharp and not quite a laugh."You have completely misread the situation," I tell him. "Shawn is around me because of my father. It's professional. It's —""Who is your

**Stella's POV** Meanwhile on the other side of the wall, I hear footsteps change in rhythm. I have been lying on the cold ground long enough to have memorised their pattern — the same rotation, the same interval, boots passing and returning and passing again like clockwork. So when they stop and multiply and start moving differently, I push myself upright as far as the chain allows. The silver burns where it meets my skin but I brace myself and press my back against the wall to listen to anything that could be useful to me to negotiate my freedom if it comes to that. But all I hear is someone giving a short instruction. And then — underneath the calm movements— a voice that I would know in the dark at the bottom of the ocean. "Shawn!" I don't plan it. It tears out of me before I can stop it. I grab the chain and pull myself toward the door as far as it will allow, which is not far at all. "Shawn — I'm in here—" The chain snaps taut against my ankle, I hiss through my teet

**Shawn's POV** But I don't stop.I pull my shirt up over my mouth and keep moving because stopping is not an option and thinking is not an option and the only thing that exists right now is finding her. "Stella!" I call to her but no response comes. The heat coming through the eastern wall is extraordinary — radiating through the concrete in pulses, the air shimmering with it. I count the turns from the layout in my head and move through the smoke and try again. "Stella!" Still nothing. The panic that moves through me is not something I have a name for because I have never felt it before. Not like this. Not this particular flavour of it — cold and absolute and sitting at the base of my throat like a hand closing around something it refuses to release. I find the room Stella is. The door is already hot to the touch. I put my shoulder through it anyway and it gives and I am inside and the smoke is thicker in here and I drop lower and scan the floor— There. She is on the groun