Chapter 30 Cyrus
CYRUS
“We should go get her,” I say, checking my watch. “Rehearsal ends in ten minutes.”
Ace nods, tucking away the plans we’ve been working on. “Let’s make sure the message is clear.”
I understand immediately what he means. From the surveillance feed, we’ve seen how Marco watches Keira, the lingering touches, the way his eyes follow her across the studio. The asshole thinks he has a chance with what’s ours.
We park the Audi directly in front of the studio’s glass windows, ensuring maximum visibility. I adjust my suit jacket and check my reflection in the rearview mirror. Ace straightens his tie.
“Show time,” I murmur as we enter.
The studio is all polished wood and mirrors. Keira stands in the center, demonstrating a complex sequence of movements. The dancers copy her, including Marco, whose eyes snap to us the moment we walk in.
Keira spots us in the mirror. Her rhythm falters slightly—the only indication she’s surprised to see us. She completes the count before turning to face us.
“That’s all for today,” she announces. “Great work, everyone.”
I stride across the floor, and Ace follows. We reach Keira simultaneously, flanking her on either side.
“Ready, princess?” I ask, deliberately loud enough for everyone to hear. My hand slides possessively around her waist.
“We missed you,” Ace adds, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger before leaning in to press his lips against her temple.
Marco’s eyes widen, his body tensing as he watches us sandwich Keira between us.
“I need to grab my bag,” Keira says, cheeks flushing a pretty red.
“I’ll help,” I volunteer, following her to the corner where her things are stored.
Ace remains in place, his cold eyes locked on Marco, who shifts under the scrutiny.
When we return, I make a point of taking Keira’s hand while Ace drapes his arm across her shoulders. We move as a unit toward the exit, a message broadcast in every step: she belongs to both of us.
“See you tomorrow,” Keira calls over her shoulder to her dancers.
“Yeah, see you,” Marco replies, his voice tight with envy.
Once outside, Keira yanks her hand free from mine and steps away from both of us.
“What the hell was that about?” Her eyes flash with irritation. “You two never come to my studio. And that whole...” she gestures vaguely between us, “possessive display. You practically marked your territory in there.”
I can’t help but grin. “Is that a problem? Because from where I was standing, your dancer friend needed the reminder.”
“Marco?” Keira rolls her eyes. “He’s just—”
“Just nothing,” I cut her off, opening the car door. “He wants what’s ours.”
Ace steps forward, his expression more measured than mine. “We need to get on the road. The flight to Idaho leaves in two hours.”
Her shoulders tense, and all the fire leaves her expression, replaced by something darker. “Oh. Right.”
Her spine straightens, but the rest of her seems to fold inward. It’s the same body language we saw when the anonymous message arrived and when she told us about the basement. Turns out the anonymous message was from Henderson’s son, who knew she was abused at the time.
“Henderson,” she whispers.
I reach for her, gentler this time, and guide her into the backseat. “We’ve got everything planned, right down to the minute. Felix arranged a private jet. We’ll be there by nightfall.”
Ace slides in beside her while I take the driver’s seat. In the rearview mirror, I watch him wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.
“You’re not alone this time,” he says quietly.
I glance in the rearview mirror, watching Ace hold Keira. The shift in her demeanor twists something in my chest. One moment, she’s fire and fight, the next, she’s that broken little girl again. I hate it. I hate that Henderson still has this power over her.
“He’s never going to hurt anyone ever again,” I say, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. “We’ll make sure of that.”
Traffic crawls ahead of us, and I resist the urge to lay on the horn.
Patience has never been my strong suit—that’s more Ace’s department.
I take a deep breath instead, focusing on the task ahead.
The anticipation of violence usually calms me, gives me something to channel this constant energy into, but not today.
Today, it feels personal in a way jobs rarely do.
“We’ve packed everything,” Ace tells her, his voice steadier than mine could manage right now. “The tools you selected are in the cargo hold.”
Keira nods, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “What about his wife? The girls?”
“Felix arranged a giveaway spa weekend for them,” I explain, catching her eyes in the mirror. “Three days at a luxury resort two states over. They left this morning.”
“Henderson will be alone in the house tonight,” Ace adds. “No chance of collateral damage.”
Relief softens Keira’s face. Even now, even after everything, she thinks of others first. It’s a quality I’ve never understood but find myself drawn to nonetheless.
The car falls quiet as we navigate toward the private airfield. I can feel the tension radiating from Keira in waves. Part of me wants to pull over, climb into the back seat, and physically shield her from her memories. Instead, I do what I can from the front.
“Tell us what you need,” I say, softer than I usually speak. “Anything at all.”
She meets my eyes in the mirror. “I need to face him,” she says. “I need him to see me—not as that scared little girl, but as who I am now.” Her hand finds Ace’s, then reaches forward to rest on my shoulder. “And I need you both with me when I do.”
“Always,” I tell her, turning to catch her fingers with mine. “Every step of the way.”
The weight of her hand on my shoulder grounds me, reminding me why this mission feels different from the countless others Ace and I have executed. This isn’t about elimination. This is about justice—her justice.
At the private airfield, Felix’s men stand ready beside the sleek jet. They take our bags without question, professionals who know better than to make eye contact with us or acknowledge Keira.
Ace guides her up the stairs while I speak briefly with the head of security to confirm the arrangements at the other end.
By the time I board, Ace has already settled Keira into a plush leather seat with a glass of whiskey.
She’s never seemed like much of a drinker, but tonight she sips steadily, her eyes fixed on some distant point only she can see.
“We land at 7:32,” I say, taking the seat across from them. “Henderson returns home from work at 8:15, like clockwork. We’ll be in position by then.”
Keira nods, her face a mask of determination despite the slight tremor in her hands.
“Once we have him,” Ace adds, “you decide how it starts.”
“And how it ends,” I finish.
The plane begins to taxi, and Keira’s grip on her glass tightens. I reach across the small table between us and place my hand over hers.
“You survived him,” I say, letting a rare gentleness enter my voice. “That’s already the victory. Everything else is just... making sure the scales balance.”
Her eyes meet mine, and it feels like staring into a broken mirror reflecting back all the shattered pieces Ace and I carry within ourselves.
“I want him to know,” she whispers. “I want him to know I’m not hiding anymore.”
“He’ll know,” I promise. “And then he’ll know nothing ever again.”
The plane lifts off, carrying us toward a reckoning thirteen years in the making. Beside me, Ace checks his watch one last time, then reaches for Keira’s other hand. The three of us stay connected as we climb into the clouds, our shadows merging into one.