جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 19

We both have a long day ahead of us." That was the last thing I heard Nehemiah say before he drifted off to sleep. Then, he began the loudest, most terrible snore I've ever heard in my life. So much for someone who hates to hear someone snore. The hum of the computer fan was the first thing I heard when I woke up. It was a low, consistent drone that anchored me to the reality of the previous night. For a few seconds, I stared at the underside of the top bunk's mattress, hoping the story about Gabriella, Matteo, and the faked death was just a fever dream brought on by too much cheap tequila. Then, the bed shifted below me. "If you’re staring at the ceiling hoping for an exit strategy, there isn't one," Nehemiah’s voice rasped. It was deeper in the morning, scratchy with sleep but still carrying that edge of unearned confidence. I rolled over and peered over the edge of the bunk. He was sitting up, rubbing the back of his neck. His dark hair was a mess, and he looked surprisin

"Representing the SYR Group: Mr. Finn Dalton and his fiancée, Miss Jenna Rossi." The name hit me like a physical blow. Beside me, Nehemiah’s hand settled on the small of my back—not just a gesture of support, but a warning. He could feel my heart rate spiking through the fabric of my dress. He knew. He’d always known that my hatred was just the scarred-over skin of a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. "Steady," Nehemiah breathed, his voice a low, dark vibration. "Remember the landfill, Rhea. Remember the darkness in the cabin." I tried. I summoned the memory of the trash fumes and the broken bones, but then I saw him. Finn stepped into the light, and for a terrifying second, the last three years vanished. He wasn't the monster from the alleyway; he was the boy who had sat beside me in sophomore year. He was the man who had held me while I cried over my father’s death. He looked older, his face etched with a haunting exhaustion that made my chest ache with a traitorous, familia

I gripped the armrest of my leather seat, looking at the clouds. "Finn's apartment. I want to see Rita first. It's been too long." The hum of the jet’s engines was the only thing filling the cabin, a steady, vibrating roar that matched the frantic beating of my heart. Beside me, Nehemiah sat like a statue, his fingers flying across the keyboard, but I could still feel the heat of his touch on my neck. The air between us was a thin sheet of glass, transparent and fragile, waiting for the first wrong word to shatter it again. "Rhea," Nehemiah said, not looking up from the screen. "You need to prepare yourself. If Finn is telling the truth about the account, it means Rita is his insurance policy against the Rossi family." "She’s my sister," I snapped, the words coming out sharper than intended. "She isn't a policy." "To you," he replied coolly. NEW YORK CITY: SUNSET The sky over Manhattan was a bruised purple, the sun sinking behind the skyline like a dying ember. We touched

The door swung open. I fell forward, collapsing onto a cold concrete floor, gasping for air that tasted like salt and bleach. It was only a temporary reprieve. Before the spots cleared from my vision, two sets of hands hauled me up, dragging my limp weight toward a heavy wooden chair bolted to the center of the room. They cinched zip-ties around my wrists tight enough that they bit into my skin, cutting off the circulation until my hands felt like leaden weights. Simone Rossi stood in the shadows, the glowing cherry of his cigar the only light in the room until the harsh overhead lamp flickered back to life. He looked at me with a detached, clinical boredom that sent terror down my spine. "You had one job, Finn," Simone said, his voice a low rumble. "You were supposed to put Rhea Dawson in the ground. Instead, you gave her a crown. And then... you had the audacity to lay a hand on my daughter." "I didn't..." The first blow from the collapsible baton shattered the sentence