Chapter 41 #2
Her laugh comes again—lighter now, almost breathless. “You really think I can do it?”
“I don’t think it,” I correct, voice low, and certain. “I know it. You’re not chasing some impossible dream, you’re built for this. Go get it, Lil’. No hesitation.”
I glance out the window as the city blurs past, her voice grounding me in a way nothing else can. For a moment, the chaos waiting for me fades, replaced by her laughter, her ambition, the quiet gravity of everything we’re fighting for.
“You’re ridiculous,” she laughs, warmth wrapped around every word. “Hyping me up like this.”
“Someone has to.” I smirk. “If that investor wants a meeting, set it up. And if you need money for your portfolio, materials—”
“Matt.” There’s a warning in her voice. Soft and steady, and God help me, I feel it everywhere.
“What?” I ask innocently, the grin already tugging at my mouth. “I’m just saying—if you need anything, I’m in. I’ll happily throw money at your dreams like an unhinged billionaire if required.”
She laughs, and something in my chest gives way at the sound of her being so light, so carefree.
“That’s not the point,” she says gently. “I don’t want to be the girl who gets through the door because someone paid for her place. I want respect. I want them to look at my work and know I deserve it.”
I lean my head back against the seat, letting out a slow breath.
“I know,” I say quietly. “And you can do it on your own. I just want you to remember…” My voice drops, honesty slipping through before I can stop it. “You don’t have to do any of this alone anymore.”
There’s a tiny pause, just a heartbeat.
“I know,” she whispers.
The city bustles around me—car horns, rain, people rushing everywhere—but everything narrows to the warmth in her voice.
“Are you going to see him?” Lily asks suddenly.
My jaw tenses against the inevitable.
“Da?” I sigh. “Yeah. I’ll have to.”
“Ciaran’s going to lose his mind,” she tries to keep her words light, but they land unevenly, a thread of worry tugging beneath each one.
“He already lost it years ago.” I groan, exhausted by the mere thought of dealing with my Da. “Una did a number on him that Jen only worsened. I understand he’s got trust issues, but Christ.”
Silence sinks between us again, heavier this time, weighted with everything we’re not saying because we both know what’s running through her head.
Da will take one look at me and know I never cut her out.
Not the way he wanted.
Not the way he did.
He’ll see every truth I’ve been hiding in plain sight, how I went after her, how I fought for her, how I chose her.
How I’ll always choose her.
And when he realises how tangled we are—how deep this runs, how far I’ve already gone—he won’t just lose his mind.
He’ll go nuclear.
“He’s going to think you’re with me,” she protests quietly.
“I am with you.” The words leave before I can soften them, raw and real. “He can think whatever the hell he wants. I told you, I’m done hiding us.”
“Matt…” She exhales, sharp and controlled, but I catch the fear underneath it. “He still thinks I helped Jen. He thinks I had something to do with—”
“He’s wrong,” I cut in. “I’ll prove it if I have to.”
“I don’t want you getting dragged into another fight because of me,” she argues. The thread of guilt in her voice has me half tempted to turn the taxi around and head straight back to Lyon.
“Sweetheart,” I rasp, the urge to hold her a physical ache. “I’ve been in a fight because of you for four straight years. I think I’ll manage.”
She huffs a laugh—half exasperated, half helpless.
“You’re impossible.”
“Only for you.”
She goes quiet again, but this time the quiet feels warm, full. Like her fingers are hooked in the fabric of my shirt, even from miles away.
“You really think I should call the investor?” she asks eventually, her voice small in a way she rarely lets me hear anymore. It’s a glimpse of the Lily I used to know, the woman beneath the mask and sarcasm, the woman I’d do anything to have back, even for a moment.
“Absolutely,” I say without hesitation. “Set up the meeting, take every door that cracks open for you, and kick them wider if you have to.”
“Bossy,” she teases.
“Motivated,” I counter. “Also, that would be hot. You should try it sometime.”
She laughs again—my favourite sound—before saying, “You’ll tell me how it goes with Owen?”
“Of course,” I say, watching the rain smear across the window. “I’ll tell you everything. But for now? Just… stay on the line a little longer.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers. “I’m done hiding from you, and from how you make me feel, baby.”
My eyes close for half a second, my breath catching on the truth of it.
Because for the first time in months, it feels like we’re finally standing on the same side of the line ready to fight the same fight, together, and to hell with the consequences.
The taxi turns into the gated community most Points members live in, tyres hissing over wet pavement. Streetlights glint gold against the windows, and the familiar row of brick townhouses comes into view, the kind of place that looks safe from the outside. Warm and domestic.
The kind of place Lily deserves.
“We’re nearly at Owen’s,” I tell her, voice dipping soft again, like it always does when I don’t want to hang up.
“Mhm,” she hums, but there’s something fragile beneath it. “You’ll call me later?”
“Course I will.” My thumb rubs over the ridges of my phone like it’s her skin. “I’ll call before I crash. And if Owen tries to keep me up all night with his paranoid bullshit, I’ll call during that too.”
She snorts, and the sound melts straight into my ribs.
“I’ll let you get inside,” she says reluctantly. “Just… text me when you’re done.”
“Sweetheart,” I say gently, her doubt eating at me. “I’ll keep you in the loop, I promise. You’re the only thing that makes sense in all this shit.”
There’s a soft inhale on the other end, a shaky one. Like maybe she feels the same and has no idea how to hold it.
“Be safe, Matt.”
I swallow, something tightening under my sternum.
“Only if you promise to chase that investor,” I tease, trying to coax one last smile or laugh out of her.
“I’ll call them now,” she promises, and I can hear the tiny smile in her voice. I end the call before I can talk myself out of it, before I can ask her to stay on the line until I’m at the front door, through it, past the point of no return.
The house looks almost exactly as I left it—sun-washed walls, curtains fluttering in the afternoon breeze, the faint shapes of someone moving inside. But stepping toward it now feels different. Heavier. More intentional.
Because every choice I make from here on out is for her.
I’m only halfway up the path when the front door swings open, and Cora fills the frame—narrowed, assessing eyes, a messy bun barely holding together, and a jumper that looks like it’s been through sleepless nights, toddler tantrums, and the kind of pressure that comes with being Jonathan’s heir while keeping secrets from him.
Before she can speak, a blur in a pink tutu shoots past her.
“Uncle Matt!”
April launches herself at my legs, tiny arms wrapping around me with the force of a toddler missile. Her laughter bursts through the cold like sunlight—too bright, too clean to exist anywhere near the kind of shit we’re neck-deep in.
Christ. This blissfully unaware innocence is exactly what we’re fighting to protect.
I crouch, scooping her up and forcing a smile. “Staying up past your naptime again?”
Cora snorts, folding her arms but not hiding the softness in her face. “She’s been asking when you’d visit.”
I straighten, shifting April easily. “Oh yeah? My favourite girl missed me?”
“Don’t let Lily hear you say that,” Cora laughs, rolling her eyes but she’s smiling. She takes April back, settling her on her hip. “Come on. Owen’s in his office, and I’ll be up as soon as I get trouble here to nap.”
I watch them disappear down the hall—April’s tired giggle echoing after them—before heading toward the stairs with a weight settling behind my ribs.
Lily’s laugh.
April’s laugh.
Two pieces of my world that deserve far better than the darkness circling us.
I rap my knuckles on Owen’s office door and push it open, only to freeze in the doorway. His usually meticulously maintained office is trashed.
Maps cover every wall. Ports, routes, dead zones, all bristling with coloured pins.
Bank statements are stacked in leaning towers across every available surface, paperwork spilling like it’s been torn apart and put back together one desperate piece at a time.
And in the middle of it all is Owen—unshaven, hollow-eyed, running on something that isn’t sleep.
Knowing him, he hasn’t had any in days.
“What the bloody hell happened in here?” I grunt, stepping over a leaning pile of folders.
Owen doesn’t look up from the map. “Never mind that. Nico’s shipment has diverted off its usual route.” He taps a cluster of red circles. “They should’ve passed through all the standard ports, but they didn’t. Instead, they only stopped in unmanned dead zones.”
My stomach drops. “Picking up girls.”
“Or avoiding being caught,” Liam says from the corner, eyes never leaving his laptop.
Aidan grunts beside him, the sound thick with disgust.
Owen doesn’t look at me as he speaks, just keeps tapping points on the map. “We’re deploying runners to every port we can get eyes on. We don’t know where the shipments go once they arrive, but if they move, we’ll catch it.”
He taps another red dot.
“We think they’re rotating drop points. No fixed warehouse. That’s how they’ve stayed off-grid. The trucks offload the girls somewhere random, then they’re transferred. New vehicles, new handlers, new drivers.” His mouth twists. “It’s smart.”
My jaw locks. “So we scatter.”
“We scatter. The more ground we cover, the more chance we have of catching them,” Liam confirms, looking up from his laptop, his face a mask of grim determination.