Chapter 23
It hurt like hell, but I did it anyway. A hoarse little rasp that pissed her off more than a thousand insults could. She shoved away from me, snarling, knocking over the table with the papers.
They came back with photos next.
Fake ones. Fabricated death scenes. Me in a bathtub, wrists open. Me dangling from a ceiling beam. Me collapsed on a marble floor, pills scattered around like some poetic tragedy.
Favio threw them in my lap.
“This is what the world’s gonna see. This is how they’ll remember you. No questions. No body. Just a sad little ending to a sad little girl who flew too close to the sun.”
I didn’t even blink.
Instead, I tilted my head, wiped the blood from my mouth with my shoulder, and whispered, “I’ve survived your betrayal, your dynasty, your flames. What’s next? A bad haircut?” Favio’s jaw clenched. Something behind his eyes flickered. Guilt? Weakness? Memory?
For a second… he faltered.
He looked at me–really looked–and I saw it: the cracks. The confusion. The man who once kissed my hand like I was something divine now watching me from across a pit of his own making.
And Caroline saw it too.
She stepped up behind him, curled an arm around his neck like a lover, and whispered poison into his ear. Her voice was soft, cold. The sound of ice breaking.
“She’s faking strength, Favio. Look at her. She’s trembling. It’s all an act. Burn her and walk out like a king.”
I watched his spine straighten. He grabbed the gas can.
The smell hit fast–thick, chemical, sour. The post I was tied to, the dirt beneath me, even my legs–they soaked it in like a wick. Caroline grinned, wide and sick, and lit a match like she was lighting candles at a fancy dinner.
She stepped close, her eyes wild and glassy, the flame trembling in her fingers.
“Any last words, Amelia?”
I lifted my chin. My voice was quiet, but steady. My words cut clean through the smoke and
madness.
“Yeah,” I said. “You’re gonna regret not killing me the first time.”
And I meant it. Because fire doesn’t scare me.
But the woman they tried to bury? She was already halfway out of the grave.
12:42 Tue, 24 Jun OM.
LUTHER’S POV
9:02 PM.
Two minutes late. Just two. That’s all it took for the storm inside me to ignite.
97%
Amelia never missed her 9:00 ping. Ever. Not even when she was overseas, stuck in meetings, or facing down press like a damn queen. She always checked in. And tonight? Silence.
I knew.
I fucking knew.
“Pull up the trackers,” I barked, pacing across the room, tie half–undone, gun already strapped at my back. “If her car’s not moving, I want to know why. Now.”
Kaya, my best tech, had already anticipated me. “Sir, last ping was from her private garage. Exit timestamp doesn’t match. Looks like she never left on her own.”
“Traffic cams?”
“Scrambled. Someone looped footage at 8:47 PM.”
I didn’t even blink. I slammed my palm against the desk and growled, “Gear up. All of you. We’re leaving in five.”
I didn’t wait for answers. I didn’t need to.
They took her. Someone had the audacity–the death wish–to lay hands on my woman. My Amelia. The one fucking thing in this world I would tear cities apart for.
Fifteen minutes later, we were airborne. Black chopper, masked gear, stealth all the way. Kaya cracked into utility grids while I used satellite heat–mapping to isolate movement on the Cunningham’s derelict estate.
A match lit. A single flicker of heat spiked. Too damn fast.
“Land us there. Now.”
The estate was half–ruins, half–monument to inherited delusion. I didn’t care. We blew through the side gate like hell itself, silent and fast. My heart was pounding, every breath measured, my hands already itching for blood.
I heard her scream before I saw her.
No sound had ever shredded me like that.
I turned the corner–and there she was.
Amelia.
Tied. Gasoline dripping from her clothes, her legs soaked, face bloodied but still–still- hers. Flame curling at the edges. Caroline holding the lighter like she was about to light a goddamn candle, eyes wild, lips trembling.
And Favio? That bastard was standing too close.
I didn’t think. I didn’t breathe. I tackled him with every ounce of fury in my body. We
Chapter 23
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crashed into the ground hard. He swung, and I blocked it, caught his jaw with my elbow, then drove my fist straight into his ribs.
“You son of a bitch!” I roared. “You think you can touch her?! You think you can burn her?! I’ll fucking end you!”
He reached for his gun–I was faster.
Steel to his temple.
My finger nearly twitched.
But Caroline lunged behind me, screaming like a banshee, lighter in hand.
“If we can’t have her, no one can!”
A shot rang out–Kaya dropped her with a non–lethal round before she could ignite the gasoline. She hit the dirt, screaming, convulsing.
I didn’t look. I didn’t care.
I ran to Amelia.
She was barely conscious. Her lips were dry, her eyes fluttering. I dropped to my knees, yanked at the soaked ropes with my blade, cutting through them like they insulted her. Her body collapsed against mine, and I caught her fast, shielding her with everything I had.
“Hey,” I whispered into her hair, cradling her against me as smoke began to curl around the room. “I got you. You hear me, baby? I’ve got you.”
Her hand twitched weakly against my chest.
She tried to smirk. “T–took you long enough.”
“Yeah?” I breathed, lifting her into my arms. “Well, next time, send a damn calendar invite before getting kidnapped.”
She coughed out the ghost of a laugh. It broke something in me.
I stood up, carrying her like the treasure she was, my arms locked tight as I turned and barked, “We’re out. Torch this hellhole to the ground.”
Behind us, the flames rose.
But I didn’t look back.
I had Amelia.
And I don’t lose what’s mine.
