Chapter 18 #2
I take another step toward Heath, closing the distance between us. His fear is palpable, a living thing that makes the air thick and heavy. But beneath that fear, I see something else—a desperate need for absolution.
“You had access to everything we need,” I press, keeping my voice low but intense. “The encrypted files, shipping logs, internal memos. I need the originals. And I know you are clever enough to have backed up all the necessary information to protect yourself.”
Heath’s fingers drum against his thigh, a nervous rhythm that betrays his internal struggle. I lean in closer, letting my conviction fuel every word.
“If you testify, I can get you out of here. When everything is out in the open, plastered over the web, nobody will be able to touch you, not even Montoni.”
His hands shake as he studies the evidence spread before us. Sweat beads on his forehead despite the cool air. “Even if I testify, even if you get the files, I may be safe, but they’ll come after you, Eve. Montoni will never forgive this,” he whispers.
My jaw tightens. After years of investigation, of watching people disappear, of building this case piece by bloody piece, I’m done being afraid. “Let them try,” I reply, determination burning through my veins.
The tension crackles between us as Heath’s gaze darts between the exit and me. Each second stretches like hours as he wages his internal war. Finally, he releases a long, shuddering sigh. With trembling fingers, he pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.
“The files are on a secure server,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Offshore account details are here.” He holds out the paper, hesitating before releasing it into my grip.
“But if you go after this…” His eyes meet mine, filled with a mixture of fear and resignation.
“You’re painting a target on your back.”
I take the crumpled paper, my fingers brushing against Heath’s trembling hand. Something in his eyes makes me pause—a flicker of desperate guilt that sends warning signals through my body.
“Wait.” His voice cracks through the silence. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
The fluorescent light above us buzzes, casting harsh shadows across Heath’s face as he steps forward. Sweat gleams on his forehead, and his expensive suit seems to hang even more loosely on his frame.
“Montoni—” He swallows hard. “Your father found me weeks ago. He knew you’d come looking for me.”
Ice spreads through my veins. The paper in my hand suddenly feels like it’s burning my skin.
“He threatened my family.” Heath’s voice breaks. “My wife. My kids. Showed me pictures of them at school, at the park. Said he’d make them disappear if I didn’t help him.”
“Help him what?” The words scrape past my throat.
“He wanted me to meet you here. Give you false information.” Heath’s shoulders cave inward. “Someone was supposed to follow you back to your hideout, destroy everything you’ve collected, and then—” He chokes on the words.
“Kill me.” I finish for him, my voice flat.
Tears glisten in Heath’s eyes. “But I couldn’t do it. Not after everything I’ve seen. The trafficking, the lives he’s destroyed…” He gestures at the paper in my hand. “Those codes are real. Everything you need to expose him is on that server.”
The silence stretches between us, heavy with the weight of his confession. My father’s influence reaches everywhere, corrupting everything it touches. Even this moment of apparent redemption reeks of his manipulation.
“They’ll come after both of us now,” Heath whispers, his voice hollow. “He’ll know I betrayed him.”
I study his face, searching for any hint of deception. But all I see is raw fear and exhaustion—the look of a man who’s carried secrets for too long.
“How long do we have?” I ask, already calculating escape routes.
“Minutes, maybe.” Heath glances nervously at the shadows. “His men are probably already—”
The crunch of gravel cuts through Heath’s words like a knife. My body reacts before my mind can process—muscles tensing, breath hitching, fingers curling around the knife in my pocket.
“They’re here.” Heath’s whisper carries raw panic. He stumbles backward, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Oh God, they’re here.”
Shadows dance across the grimy windows as figures move outside. The weak light from our single bulb turns the dirty glass into a grotesque puppet show of approaching threats.
“How many exits did you say this place had?” I keep my voice low and steady despite the thundering of my heart.
“Three.” Heath’s words tumble out. “Loading dock in back, side door by the offices, and—”
The main door groans open, cutting him off. Dark figures pour in, their tactical gear absorbing what little light exists. The metallic gleam of weapons catches my eye—professional hardware, not street thugs with pistols.
“Seven.” I count under my breath, tracking their positions. “No, eight.”
They move with military precision, spreading out to cover all angles. These aren’t my father’s usual muscle. These are the cleaners—the ones who made Roberto disappear.
A ninth figure emerges from their midst, moving with calculated grace. My throat tightens, expecting my father’s familiar silhouette. But as the figure steps into our pool of dim light, my blood turns to ice.
The sight of Remy hits me like a physical blow.
His presence fills the warehouse with an oppressive weight, crushing the air from my lungs.
The man before me is a stranger wearing a familiar face—gone is any trace of the passionate lover from nights before.
In his place stands something carved from ice and shadow.
“Did you really think I’d choose you over twenty million dollars?” His voice carries none of its usual warmth. Each word drops like a shard of glass between us. “You’re not that special, Eve.”
My fingers curl into fists, rage burning through the initial shock. “And here I thought you actually had principles. What happened to all that talk about justice? About choosing which monsters to protect?”
“Business is business.” He steps closer, moonlight catching the metallic gleam of the gun at his side. “Your father made me a better offer.”
My heart pounds against my ribs as I stare at the man I’d foolishly let into my bed and, to be honest, into my heart. “Twenty million.” The words taste like poison. “That’s what it costs to buy your loyalty?”
“Come now, Eve.” Remy’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Did you think our little encounters meant something? That I actually cared?”
“No.” I force steel into my voice. “I knew exactly what you were. A snake wearing an expensive suit.”
He circles closer, each step deliberate. “Yet you still spread your legs for me.”
“Better than spreading them for my father’s money.” The words hit their mark—his jaw tightens fractionally.
“Such fire.” He stops mere feet away. “I’ll miss that about you. The way you fight even when you’re cornered.”
I bare my teeth. “I’m not dead yet.”
“No.” His gaze rakes over me. “But you will be. Unless…”
“Unless what? I get on my knees and beg?”
“The thought has appeal.”
“Go to hell.”
“After you.” He steps closer, voice dropping. “You know what fascinates me most about you, Eve? How you pretend to be so righteous while destroying everything you touch. Roberto. Heath. Everyone who tries to help you ends up dead.”
The mention of Roberto sets my blood boiling. “Don’t you dare say his name.”
“Why not? He died protecting your crusade. Just like Heath will.” Remy’s eyes flick to where Heath cowers. “Though he lasted longer than expected. Almost made me believe he’d actually grown a spine.”
“At least he has a conscience,” I spit. “Unlike you.”
“Conscience?” Remy laughs, the sound sharp and cold. “Is that what you call it? This reckless pursuit of justice that gets people killed?”
“Better than being a bought man who sells his soul to the highest bidder.”
His hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around my throat. Not squeezing, just holding. A reminder of his control. “Careful, little girl. You’re not in a position to throw stones.”
I meet his gaze, refusing to show fear. “Do it then. Prove me right about what you really are.”
His grip tightens slightly. “You think you know me? You don’t know anything. You’re just a spoiled princess playing at being a hero.”
“And you’re just another one of my father’s dogs.” I lean into his grip. “How does it feel, Remy? Being owned?”
Remy pushes me away with a snarl of disgust as my heart shatters, each piece cutting deeper than any blade.
The weight of failure crushes my chest—I failed my mother, whose final words made me promise to expose the truth.
I failed those girls, trapped in metal containers, their faces haunting my dreams. Every single victim my father destroyed while I spent years gathering evidence, always one step behind.
But the deepest wound? Falling for this monster before me. The nights I spent in his arms, the moments I let myself believe he was different. That beneath his calculated exterior beat a heart capable of justice, of choosing right over profit. What a fool I’d been.
The barrel of his gun presses against my chest, hard metal through thin fabric. Remy’s features twist into something cruel and foreign, destroying the last remnants of the man I thought I knew.
“Your mother would be so disappointed,” he sneers, knowing exactly where to strike. “All these years, and what do you have to show for it? Nothing but dead allies and failed missions.”
I lock my spine straight, refusing to let tears fall. He wouldn’t get that satisfaction. Not now. Not ever. “My mother would be proud that I didn’t become what you are—a soulless thing that trades in human misery.”
His finger tightens on the trigger. “Still so righteous, even at the end.”
“Better righteous than bought.” I force the words out. Each breath feels like swallowing glass, knowing I let this man into my heart, my bed, my life.
“Go ahead,” I challenge, meeting his cold gaze. “Pull the trigger. Prove that twenty million means more than whatever we shared.”
I keep my head high, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. The deafening gunshot fills my ears, but I don’t flinch. The pain is oddly distant, almost surreal, like a dream where sensations are muted and strange.
Looking down, I’m even surprised to see blood blooming across my chest, spreading like crimson flowers against the fabric of my shirt. My head spins, reality tilting sideways as my vision blurs around the edges.
It’s almost funny how death feels nothing like I imagined. No dramatic agony, no flash of my life before my eyes—just this slow, floating sensation as my legs give way beneath me.
My eyes instinctively search for Remy one last time.
Through my fading vision, I catch his gaze, and something there makes my breath catch.
His eyes shine with an emotion I can’t quite grasp—or maybe it’s just my dying brain playing tricks on me.
But I don’t care. I choose to remember him this way: with that warmth in his eyes, that hint of softness I’d glimpsed in our private moments.
And is that regret I see flickering across his face?
The world grows darker and colder, but I hold onto that final image of his eyes when I fall into eternal darkness.