Chapter 33
I can still taste her on my tongue—taste myself, the echo of what we just did—and I keep wanting to reach for her like a drowning man reaches for air. But her need for space was crystal clear when she stumbled away, not stopping until the backs of her knees hit the bed.
She sits on the edge, knees pulled to her chest, hair tangled over one shoulder, as she studies me. In this quiet aftermath, it’s like she’s trying to figure me out, weighing pros and cons, drawing conclusions that I’m terrified to ask her about.
Kneeling for her had been surprisingly easy.
Maybe it shouldn’t have been that shocking, maybe the floor is the only place my shame can stay put.
Shame for the hell I put her through. For every moment she should’ve felt safe enough to turn to me and didn’t because my actions taught her, over and over, that I wouldn’t choose her first.
Christ. That thought guts me. How did I manage to fuck everything up so spectacularly, even before they cast her out?
Watching her is pain dressed as need. I spent the last year perfecting silence, and yet tonight I traded it for something worse, a confession without absolution.
Laying my soul bare for her to judge and praying she finds something in me worthy of hearing out.
Breaking whatever pride I have left into tiny pieces and handing it to her as an offering might not fix everything; hell, it might not fix anything.
But every fucked-up, bruised, bloody piece of me is hers all the same.
Every breath she takes is a reminder of how breakable she is, how easily the horrors of our world could swallow her whole if I don’t move fast enough.
The word asset won’t stop echoing between my ears, a drumbeat counting down to something I can’t see yet, only feel.
She’s innocent.
The truth locks in with every heartbeat, driving the doubt out for good, leaving only one thing behind—the need to clear her name, no matter the cost.
“You two better be decent.”
Cora’s voice cuts through the quiet a split-second before the knock hits the door.
She might still be new to this life, to her birthright, but since Lily’s exile, she’s been stepping into her dad’s shoes more and more, and the tone she uses now is pure O’Neill—hard enough to slice, steady enough to follow.
I’m already on my feet before I realise it, movement automatic, old reflexes snapping me into protector-mode.
The second the door opens, Cora is halfway across the room, coat thrown off, shoes still wet as Abbie comes in behind her, phone clutched like a weapon, eyes cataloguing every minor detail. Liam and Aidan sweep the room before taking positions at the door and window.
Cora’s gaze lands on Lily, and for a second, I want to step in front of her, put my body between that look and the woman who still owns me. But Lily is already standing, smoothing her dress down, making herself smaller in the way she always does when she feels like she's on the defensive.
“Are you all right?” Cora asks, too soft, and too intimate for this room. A tone that would have men like my Da questioning her ability to lead us, but maybe that gentleness is exactly what we need after all the horrors lately.
Lily’s voice is small but steady beside me. “I’m fine.”
“Fine isn’t good enough,” Abbie mutters, stepping closer and wrapping Lily in a hug, leaving a cloud of vanilla body spray and faint leftover tequila in her wake. She pulls back, narrowing her gaze on me. “Matt, what the hell is going on?”
I can feel every eye in the room shift toward me, weighing, judging.
But the only gaze that matters is Lily’s—those hazel eyes bruised with hurt, already bracing for disappointment.
Seeing the resignation settling in her expression, the quiet certainty that I’ll hesitate when it counts, does something to me.
My spine straightens. I lift my head and meet the room without flinching before turning back to her.
“I fucked up,” I admit, voice low but steady, each word carrying the weight of every mistake I’ve made. “But I’m on your side now. I know she’s innocent, and we’re going to prove it.”
The words hang in the air between us, heavier than any promise I’ve ever made. And in that moment, I see it—Lily’s eyes soften. For a heartbeat, it’s just us, balanced on the edge of something fragile. Not desire. Not heat. But the thin, trembling hope that maybe this time I won’t fail her.
I’ve spent my life hiding behind control, behind silence and calculation. Now I’m stripped bare in front of everyone, not to prove strength, but to make a choice. To make sure everyone in this room knows that, above all else, I’m choosing her.
Even if it costs me everything.
And the unspoken understanding that maybe, just maybe, what’s been broken can be rebuilt. Not just her place in the Points. Not just the trust.
But us.
Cora lets out a sound that might be a laugh. “And how do you propose we do that, Matt? We know she’s innocent, but word on the street is she knew exactly who her dad was, and that she helped Jen recruit girls for the ring. It’s an absolute shit show of doubt and broken trust back home.”
“She had no idea,” I snap, teeth clenched.
“She didn’t recruit anyone, didn’t receive a single payout, didn’t know the extent of what they were doing.
She’s a pawn in their narrative, not a player.
” I glance at Lily, and for the briefest second, our eyes meet—her jaw tight, and her pulse visible at her throat.
I want her to know I see her. That I understand.
“About time,” Abbie mutters. “But… how the hell are we supposed to clear her name when nobody wants to hear reason?”
Aidan’s dark eyes meet mine, brow cocked. Are we really doing this? Are we really going against Jonathan’s orders?
I give a single nod.
He pushes off the doorframe, but my gaze drifts back to Lily, to the way she’s holding herself, taut with resolve, unbowed.
“We’ve got transfers, ledgers, accounts,” Aidan says, voice low and controlled.
“There’s a shell company—Orchis. It’s the common thread running through all of it.
The domain tied to Jen and Benedict’s emails.
Where at least ninety per cent of Angus’ cut was funnelled.
And I’d stake my life on it being where Benedict transferred the money he never passed on to Jen before Helen killed him. ”
He pauses, letting that settle.
“Now Matt’s uncovered something that links Nico Salvatore to Orchis. Antonio’s son and second-in-command. Girls get recruited to model for him, and then they disappear. At the same time, we’ve got ghost shipments coming in from Italy—unlogged, unseen, wiped from the books.”
His gaze sharpens.
“If we expose Nico, or trace where Benedict’s money really went, we don’t just clear Lily’s name. We dismantle the ring and prove she was never involved at all.”
Liam, never one to waste or mince words, nods slowly. “Logically, if Lily was on the take, Benedict would have sent her part of his shares. But any physical documentation is going to be heavily guarded. The digital copies Matt got his hands on are a start, but we need more.”
I swallow, letting my eyes sweep over the room, landing on Lily again.
She doesn’t look at me, not directly, but the faint twitch of her fingers betrays her.
She’s listening. She’s still here. And that is enough to ignite something in me, something sharp, dangerous, and desperate.
I need to keep her safe. I need to clear her name.
And beneath it all, I need her to know that nothing else matters if I can’t fix this for her.
“I’ve been using this stupid contract to get closer to Antonio,” I explain. “Going to dinners, making small talk when tongues are loosened by liquor, that kind of thing.”
Cora’s disapproving gaze pins me as she crosses her arms across her chest and shakes her head in disbelief. “You’ve made yourself a mole.”
Lily watches me—careful, dangerous, the woman who just let me worship at her feet, and the girl who still wants to lash out at me wrapped into one. I swear to myself that nothing in the world will lay a hand on her and walk away thinking they’ve won.
“You don’t have to do this,” she says.
“I can’t let this keep you isolated any longer. If I have to get a little bloody to clear your name, then baby, just call me Jack the Ripper.”
Liam’s mouth twists. “Jonathan won’t like the girls knowing all of this.”
“My dad knows?” Cora’s shocked inhale says it all.
I meet her gaze and give a small, apologetic shrug, watching the realisation dawn that he’s kept her in the dark while she’s likely been needling him every single day to bring Lily home.
“He does,” I say quietly.
Then, because it matters—because it changes everything—I add, “He called off the wedding when I told him.”
The silence that follows is sharp.
Cora’s hand flies to her mouth, a stunned breath tearing out of her as she stares at me like she’s trying to reconcile a dozen impossible things at once.
Abbie lets out a soft, disbelieving gasp. “Holy shit,” she breathes, eyes wide.
Liam exhales slowly through his nose, something grim and satisfied flickering across his face. “That’s… not nothing,” he mutters.
Aidan’s reaction is quieter—his jaw tightens, eyes cutting to me with a look that says this just escalated everything.
“Fuck it. We’re getting you home, Lily. No matter what it takes. We’re going to clear your name, prove the truth about Jen and that monster Benedict—” Cora cuts herself off, disgust clouding her features at the name.
Abbie growls. “I still can’t believe he’s your—” She breaks off, pressing her forehead to Lily’s. “It doesn’t matter. Blood doesn’t mean shit. You are not him.”
“And you’re not her. You’re Lily fucking Davis, and you’re ours,” Cora adds, striding across the room in three sharp steps before wrapping Lily in a fierce hug.
Abbie is quick to join, pressing close with a quiet mummer of reassurance.
I look away, pretending I can’t hear the quiet affirmations and sniffles of the girls, and pour three measures of vodka from the bar cart.
Liam and Aidan join me, downing their drinks in unison before turning their focus back to the girls.
Seeing the three of them leaning on each other for strength twists like a knife in my gut. That they’ve been torn apart by forces beyond their control—and in part because of me—sends shame creeping up my neck, sharp and unrelenting.
I set my glass down, the clink of vodka against crystal sounding far too loud in the quiet aftermath of the girls’ reassurances. Lily’s gaze lingers on me for a brief second longer before she looks away, smoothing her dress, reminding me that for now, she’s choosing caution over fire.
“I need to head back,” I say, voice low and steady. “Salvatore thinks I was called away on Points business, so it won’t be a surprise if I have to make a few more trips. I’ll keep digging, get close to the right people, follow the money trail without them knowing I’m onto them.”
“I’ll fill Logan in, make sure he knows exactly what we’re dealing with. My Viking is itching to spill some more blood.” Abbie smirks, looking far too excited about the prospect of bloodshed for a girl who spends her days baking and surrounded by animals.
Cora paces a little, then stops, her hands clenching into fists. “And Aidan, Liam, and I will get Owen up to speed. If the older generation won’t take action, we will. Enough watching and waiting for someone to get hurt before we step in.”
Lily watches all of us—quiet, composed, almost detached—her resolve tempered by the year she’s spent surviving alone. “I’ll keep my head down, focus on classes, and stay off their radar,” she says, voice soft but steady.
“We need to move fast. But no one touches a single hair on Lily’s head while we do it.” I scan the room, meeting everyone’s determined gazes as murmurs of argument ripple around us. And then my eyes settle on Lily again, like a magnet pulling me home.
She doesn’t look away. Her lips press into a thin line, and for the briefest moment, I catch that flicker of vulnerability behind her calm composure, the quiet acknowledgment that she’s still holding herself back, still weighing trust and fear.
And even like that, even with the walls she’s built around herself still at half mast, I feel it—the unspoken pull between us, sharper and more dangerous than any plan or threat in the room.
For the first time in a long time, I feel like we might have a chance, not just at taking down this ring, but at finally protecting the one thing that’s worth everything.