Chapter 37
JENNA
My wrists are raw and aching from being cuffed to the goddamn bed for what feels like hours.
My lip’s still bleeding from Nico’s hits, the taste sharp and metallic at the corner of my mouth.
My whole body hurts, from the tension, from the blasting air conditioning, from the fear I’m trying to pretend isn’t crawling up my spine like frostbite.
I’m exhausted. Furious. Terrified. But mostly, I’m ready for Abram.
And then I hear gunfire. Two sharp pops, then boots pounding across the hardwood. Not Nico’s boys. He told them not to fire unless ordered. That means it has to be Abram.
My heart slams into my ribs. I want to scream. I want to call out and tell him to run, that Nico’s right behind the door, armed and waiting. But I never get the chance.
The door crashes open in a blur of black force and fury. Splinters fly, plaster cracks. Abram barrels in, wild-eyed and savage, his pistol raised, a rabid storm carved into his features. Mikail follows a beat behind, gun sweeping the hallway behind him, clearing the space.
My heart floods with unbearable feelings. Relief. Rage. Love.
“Nico!” Abram shouts.
Nico spins behind me, pressing the cold, hard mouth of a pistol against my temple. “Drop your fucking weapon!” he shrieks, dragging me upright like a shield.
Abram freezes mid-step. Everything stops. The air thickens as the world narrows to two points: the barrel pressed to my skull and Abram’s eyes burning hate into Nico from across the room.
My breath catches. Nico’s arm is around my chest now, jerking me against him, and I can feel his body trembling. He’s sweating. Scared. But his grip is tight and the gun is real, pressed against my skull.
I don’t cry but my voice shakes when I speak one word. “Abram.”
He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t look at Nico either. He looks through him. Like he already knows how this ends. His jaw tightens as he lowers the gun, slow and deliberate.
“I’ve got you, Jenna,” he says. “I swear it.”
His voice is calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that means someone’s about to die.
Nico tightens his grip on me, yanking the chain of the cuff so hard I stumble with a cry. My wrist wrenches, fiery pain lancing up my arm. He jerks me in front of him like a shield again, his forearm pressed against my throat this time, the gun never leaving my temple.
He’s panting now, erratic. Not the smooth-talking manipulator from before. This man is unraveling.
“You came for her,” Nico spits, his voice high and cracked. “That’s cute, Abram. Real fucking noble. But you’re going to leave here with nothing unless you give me what’s mine.”
His arm drops from around my neck for a brief moment while his hand dips into the back waistband of his pants, pulling out a creased manila envelope. “Your empire. Your hotel. Your fucking birthright. All of it.” He waves the envelope like a magician revealing a final card.
“Signed on my end. Just needs your signature.” He thrusts it toward Abram, tossing it on the bed before wrapping his arm around my throat again. “Sign it, or I blow her brains out, right here in front of you.”
I flinch, my eyes glued to Abram. There’s a stillness in him, a terrifying calm like the eye of a hurricane. But I can see beneath the surface, and he’s starting to break.
Mikail and Denis slide into view behind him, weapons drawn. Their stances are taut, precise. Ready to end this. But Abram gives the slightest shake of his head, and both men freeze like statues.
He’s thinking. Calculating. Not just about escape routes or kill shots, but about legacy, territory, and all the blood that was spilled in order to gain what he now owns.
He’s also thinking about me.
I see it the moment it happens. The split-second when he decides.
“I’ll sign,” he says. “Just let her go.”
“No,” I rasp, fighting against Nico’s iron grip. My wrist is raw, the cuff biting deeper with every movement, but that pain is nothing compared to the agony of watching Abram yield to this monster. “Don’t you dare, Abram. Don’t you dare give him what he wants!”
“Shut the fuck up,” Nico growls, his gun jamming harder into my temple, forcing my head sideways.
My vision pulses black and white, stars dancing from the pressure. But I won’t shut up. I won’t be his pawn, and I sure as hell won’t let Abram lose everything he’s worked so hard for because of me.
Abram’s eyes meet mine, cold blue fire blazing within. He watches me, his jaw clenched so tight I can practically hear his teeth grinding. Anguish, rage, and determination flash across his face. Beneath it all lies an unspoken promise. He won’t let this stand. Neither will I.
“You’re bluffing, Nico,” I spit out, voice rough from screaming, throat aching from fear and anger. “You don’t have the balls to pull the trigger.”
“Oh, you want to test that theory?” Nico sneers, pressing the gun even harder. “Keep talking, bitch. See what happens.”
A wild, desperate fire roars through my veins. If it was any other situation, Abram would never give up, would never surrender. He’s doing this for me. But I refuse to be the reason he falls.
Without another second’s hesitation, I snap my head back with every ounce of strength I have left.
My skull collides with Nico’s face. The crunch is sickeningly satisfying—his nose breaking, bone giving way beneath the impact.
Pain explodes through my head, stars flashing brighter, but his gun jerks away instantly as he staggers back, blood spraying across my neck.
“You bitch!” he roars, gripping his shattered nose, eyes wide with shock and fury.
I stumble forward as far as the cuff will allow, barely managing to keep my balance. My head spins, my vision blurred, but the barrel isn’t pointed at me anymore.
And that’s all Abram needs.
He surges forward, fury incarnate, slamming into Nico like a freight train. They crash into the crumbling wall, plaster shattering beneath the impact. Nico’s gun skids across the grimy floor, lost in the chaos.
I slump to the side, barely catching myself against the bed frame. My wrist screams in agony as the cuff cuts deeper, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the brutal spectacle unfolding in front of me.
Abram’s fists rain down on Nico with a precise, punishing rhythm, every blow driven by rage and vengeance.
Nico thrashes beneath him, wiry strength born of desperation.
His bloody hands scrabble across the filthy floor, finding a shard of glass from the mirror.
He swings it upward, slicing a deep gash across Abram’s forearm.
Blood spills hot and red, but Abram doesn’t flinch. He grabs Nico’s wrist, twisting until the glass shard drops from his fingers. Nico screams in pain, a guttural, animal sound.
“You’re fucking dead,” Nico spits, bucking wildly beneath Abram. “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill her—”
Abram silences him with an elbow to the throat. Nico gags, choking, eyes bulging. Abram’s control is terrifying to witness, calculated violence radiating from him like heat waves. Nico fights dirty, driving a knee into Abram’s ribs, momentarily throwing him off balance.
They roll, a mess of tangled limbs and desperate strikes, careening into the shattered dresser. Wood splinters. Glass rains across the floor. Abram regains the upper hand, knees pinning Nico’s chest, powerful hands closing around his throat.
“I should let you die slowly,” Abram snarls, voice cold and deadly. “But I don’t have that luxury.”
Nico squirms beneath him, teeth bared in desperation. His fingers slip beneath his jacket, grasping at something.
“Abram!” I scream, but he’s already moving.
Nico drives a concealed knife upward, aimed straight for Abram’s throat.
Everything happens in the blink of an eye.
Abram shifts, trapping Nico’s arm. He rips the knife away, driving a vicious fist into Nico’s temple. Nico’s head snaps back, stunned, and Abram’s hand goes to the pistol at his hip, smoothly drawing it in a single, fluid motion.
My breath catches, heart slamming violently in my chest.
One clean, deafening shot echoes throughout the room.
Nico goes limp instantly, eyes wide and empty. A hole blooms darkly in the center of his forehead, blood spilling slowly onto the filthy carpet beneath him.
Silence settles, broken only by my ragged breathing and Abram’s harsh, controlled panting. My ears ring, my vision pulses, and my whole body shakes uncontrollably.
Abram gets up slowly, blood dripping steadily from the wound on his arm, his eyes still locked on Nico’s corpse as if daring it to rise again. The gun hangs limply at his side, fingers twitching slightly with residual fury.
With a visible effort, he turns toward me. His fierce blue eyes soften instantly, rage melting away into tenderness so intense it nearly breaks me.
He takes a slow, careful step closer. “Jenna…”
“I’m okay,” I rasp, the lie coming easy despite my battered body and racing heart. “Abram—”
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, closing the distance in one more stride. His uninjured hand comes up, fingers brushing gently against my bruised jaw, eyes blazing.
“I’ve got you.”