Chapter 21 - Blair #3
"Xander," Gabriel warns, his voice cutting through James's whimpering. "My wife is wearing white. If you get blood on her dress, you and I are going to have a problem."
Xander sighs, a long, dramatic exhalation that blows a lock of hair off his forehead. "You are such a buzzkill, Gabriel. I was just going to open him up a little bit. See if he has a heart in there."
He leans in close to James’s gray, sweating face, his mismatched eyes wide and terrifying.
"I bet it's just a lump of coal."
Cole steps up, looking bored. He grabs James by the back of the neck, forcing his face down toward the floorboards.
"Let him go," Cole says, his voice flat. "If we kill him, we have to deal with the body. I’m not spending Christmas digging a shallow grave in the woods.”
Xander rolls his eyes. “I don’t mind—”
“No. If we give him to the police, he’s their problem. I’m taking Fallon home tonight so we can wake up tomorrow morning and do all the Christmas shit with the kids. I’m not spending it cleaning this up."
"Fine," Xander grumbles, releasing James’s wrist with a final, unnecessary twist that elicits another shriek. "But you owe me."
“Sure.”
The doors burst open, and half a dozen uniformed police officers rush in like they were waiting for Cole to deliver his line, that's how perfect the timing is.
But they don't rush the stage. They don't pull guns on the man in the priest collar breaking bones or the man holding a CEO like a dog who shit on the carpet.
They stop.
They look at Cole and wait.
He gives a single, sharp nod toward the exit and then tosses James onto the ground.
The officers move, swarming James, dragging him away from Xander and Cole. They slap cuffs on him while he screams about lawsuits and rights, hauling him out of the room like a sack of garbage.
The crowd gives the Savage Six—and Gabriel—a wide berth. They look terrified.
I look at my husband. He adjusts his cufflinks, completely unbothered by the attempted stabbing or his friend’s desire to paint the stage red.
"You okay?" he asks, his hand finding my waist.
"I'm fine," I say, my heart rate finally starting to slow. "Your friends are unhinged."
He grins and it makes him look younger. “Yeah."
We walk down the stairs into the stunned silence of the room.
Everyone seems to be in a state of shock over all the revelations here tonight and then the tiny show of force from two of the Savage Six.
Gabriel is pulled over to where Cohen and Beckett Fitzpatrick are talking with Cole, leaving me alone, but thankfully I’m away from the crowd since I’ve edged my way to the outside of the room near the lobby.
Ryder stands alone in the middle of the dance floor.
He looks between the doors where his father—his real father—was just dragged out, and the crowd all around him. His face is pale, sweat beading on his forehead. He looks like a child who just realized someone took his favorite toy.
And then his eyes land on me.
He pushes through the crowd, pushing and shoving his way toward me with red-tinted cheeks and a glare on his face that could melt an iceberg.
"Blair," he snaps as he approaches me.
I stand my ground and lift my chin even as exhaustion is starting to weigh me down.
"You did this," he mutters, shaking his head. "You ruined everything."
“Whatever, Ryder. It’s not my fault you don’t know how to treat people or take responsibility for your actions.”
He steps closer like he's going to grab me, but then he just... stops. The fury drains out of him so fast it's almost disturbing to watch. His shoulders slump. His hands drop to his sides.
"He's not my dad," Ryder says, a sob ripping out of his chest as his demeanor changes from pissed off to devastated in the blink of an eye. "My whole life... it’s a lie. I have nothing. It’s all gone."
I almost feel bad for this asshole.
Almost.
Then I remember the car screeching against mine. I remember the cold air rushing in as my windshield shattered. I remember the fear.
Ugh. Fuck him.
"I know," I say.
"Blair, please..." He reaches a hand out, like he thinks I might help him. Like he thinks I’m still the doormat he used to wipe his feet on. "Help me. Talk to him. Tell him to give me another chance."
I throw my hands up. Then I take a deep breath. “No, I’m not going to do that. You made your choices," I say, stepping closer until I’m right in his face. "You chose to be cruel. You chose to be a thief. You chose to try and kill me for some unknown fucking reason."
Gabriel steps up behind me. He doesn't touch me, but I feel him. He’s a wall of heat at my back, radiating a silent, deadly threat. Then his fingers come up and grip the back of my neck, his thumb rubbing the side of my throat affectionately.
Ryder flinches when he sees Gabriel, and he takes a step back.
"Help me," Ryder begs, looking between us. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I wasn't... I wasn't thinking."
"You ran me off the road," I say flatly. "That takes a lot of planning, Ryder. You had to follow me. You had to wait for the right spot."
"It was Vivi!" he blurts out, his eyes wide and frantic. "It was her idea."
I freeze. Behind me, I feel Gabriel go perfectly still.
"What did you say?" Gabriel asks. His voice is low, but it carries more weight than if he screamed the words.
Ryder looks at Gabriel, desperate to shift the blame.
"We were at the penthouse. We were... partying. I was messed up, okay? I’d been up for two days.
" He wipes his nose, sniffing hard. "Vivi said Blair was going to talk.
She said she was going to tell you about the money I took from her accounts.
She said if you found out I was stealing. .. you'd cut me off."
He looks at me, his expression pleading.
"She told me you were a liability. That you were going to ruin my reputation and my shot at becoming CEO. She said... she said real men handle their problems."
My stomach turns.
"You tried to kill me," I say, staring at him in disbelief, "to keep me quiet about forty grand? You tried to end my life because your girlfriend told you to?"
"I didn't want to!" Ryder sobs. "But she gave me the keys to her car. She gave me the coke to get my nerve up. She said if I did it, the problem would just... go away. And then I could focus on the future without looking over my shoulder."
I let out a hollow laugh. It’s so pathetic. It’s so perfectly Ryder. He didn't even have the spine to be a villain on his own; he had to be talked into it by a woman who treated him like a puppet.
"She played you, Ryder," I say, shaking my head. "She didn't care about your reputation. She just wanted me gone because she didn’t like your attention on me."
"I know that now!"
"Vivienne Ashford," Gabriel says, testing the name on his tongue like he’s tasting a fine wine he intends to smash against the wall.
I glance back at him. His face is a mask of stone, but his eyes... his eyes are burning with a cold, blue fire. He looks at Ryder, then nods once, as if filing away a piece of information for later processing.
I know that look.
Vivienne is going to wish she’d never had my name in her mouth.
"You need to leave," Gabriel says, his attention snapping back to the sobbing man-child in front of us.
"But where am I supposed to go?"
"I don't care," Gabriel says.
I step closer to Ryder, lowering my voice so only he can hear what I’m about to say.
"You're going to leave here with nothing. Disgraced. Penniless. You’re going to have to live out the rest of your sorry existence with the struggle everyone else feels. You’re going to have to get a job.
You’re going to have to pay rent. You’re going to have to wonder if your card will decline at the grocery store. "
His eyes widen as the reality sets in.
"And if you somehow manage to drag yourself out of that hole by learning how to be humble, learning how to work hard, and learning how to be a good person? That’ll be your choice. But somehow, knowing you... I doubt you'll even try."
"Now get the fuck out of here," Gabriel says from behind me. "Don’t make me tell you a third time.”
Ryder doesn't hesitate. He looks at me one last time—a look of pure, unadulterated misery—and then he bolts. He scrambles toward the exit, slipping on the polished floor in his haste to get away from the wreckage of his life.
I watch him go, and I feel... light.
It’s over.
"You okay?" Gabriel asks, his hand finally settling on my waist, pulling me back against his chest.
"I'm fine," I say, leaning into him. "I just want to go home."
"Whatever you want, little bird," he says, pressing a kiss to my temple.
He guides us toward the exit. But as we walk, I see him pull his phone from his pocket. He types a quick message, his face grim.
I don't ask who it’s to. I don't ask what it says.
But I have a feeling Vivienne Ashford is about to have a very bad Christmas.