Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Eli
The city lights blur beneath me, a kaleidoscope of meaningless color. I haven’t slept. Haven’t eaten. Haven’t moved from this spot by the window since?—
Since the last board meeting after I found her standing in Wolfe office.
My phone buzzes again. Probably Bash. Or Xander. Or Reyna. I don’t check. The device sits face-down on my desk, collecting notifications I can’t bear to read.
“Eli.” IRIS’s voice breaks the silence, gentle but firm. She never speaks unless necessary. “You have fourteen unread messages from Isla. Would you like me to?—”
“No.” The word scrapes my throat. When did I last speak? “Delete them.”
“Are you certain? My analysis indicates significant emotional distress in her voice patterns?—”
“I said delete them.” My fingers curl against the glass. The window’s cool surface is the only thing keeping me grounded. “Actually, wait.”
A pause. “Yes, Eli?”
“Play the first one.”
Isla’s voice fills the room, and my chest constricts. “Eli, please. It’s not what you think. I can explain everything if you’ll just?—“
“Stop.”
The message cuts off. My reflection stares back at me, hollow-eyed and haunted. Behind me, the penthouse stretches empty and dark, exactly how she left it a few nights ago. Her coffee mug still sits on the counter. Her scent lingers on the throw blanket on the couch.
“Delete them all.”
“Eli—”
I squeeze my eyes shut. I could listen. I could let myself hear her voice one last time.But what if it’s worse? What if it’s another lie?
“That’s an order, IRIS.”
Silence falls again. The city continues its restless dance below, but all I see is her. The way she wouldn’t meet my eyes in Wolfe’s office. The defeated slope of her shoulders as I walked away.
She made her choice.
So why can’t I make mine?
My forehead presses against the glass. In the reflection, I catch a glimpse of the man I’ve become—the man who trusted, who believed, who opened his heart again only to have it shattered.
Just like before.
Just like always.
The phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Drake. His name flashes on the screen, a reminder that he’s caught between us. Between his best friend and the man she betrayed.
I let it ring.
Some betrayals cut too deep for explanations.
I close my eyes against the city lights, but the darkness only makes her absence more acute. Another buzz from my phone. Then another. And another.
Finally, heavy footsteps in the hallway. The distinctive sound of my brother’s determined stride.
“IRIS, don’t—“ But before I can finish, the penthouse door swings open.
“Enough.” Bash’s voice fills the space. “Four days of this shit is four days too many.”
I don’t turn around. “Get out.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Keys clatter on my counter. Bash’s reflection appears in the window beside mine. “You can come willingly, or I can carry you out like I did when you were twelve and refused to leave the library. Your choice.”
“I’m not?—“
“Xander’s waiting downstairs. And trust me brother, you don’t want him coming up here.”
Something in his tone makes me finally turn. Bash looks exhausted, worry lines creasing his forehead. Behind him, I catch a glimpse of Reyna in the doorway, her expression a mix of concern and determination.
“This isn’t a request brother.” Bash’s hand clamps on my shoulder, steering me into the war room.
Xander’s already there, his expression grim. Reyna stands by the window, arms crossed, radiating that quiet fury she reserves for family stupidity.
And Drake—Drake paces like a caged animal, tablet clutched in his hands.
“I don’t need an intervention,” I say, but my voice sounds hollow even to me.
“Shut up and sit down.” Bash pushes me into a chair. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks.”
“You want to know why?” Drake stops pacing, his eyes blazing. “Because you’re being a fucking idiot.”
I start to stand. “I didn’t come here to?—“
“Sit. Down.” Xander’s command freezes me mid-motion. “You’re going to want to see this.”
Drake throws a file onto the table. Papers scatter—financial records, surveillance photos, documentation I don’t want to look at. Don’t want to process.
“She made her choice,” I say, the words bitter on my tongue.
Bash slams his hand on the table, making us all jump.
“You don’t get to be this stupid,” Bash snaps.
“Look at the damn evidence.”
“I saw enough.” The words taste like rust.
“No,” Reyna says coldly. “You saw what you wanted to see. What was easier to believe.”
“I have independently verified the discrepancies in Wolfe’s fabricated evidence,” IRIS cuts in. “Isla Carrington was not working against you, Eli.”
My chest tightens. Not working against me—but not working with me either. The distinction shouldn’t matter, but it does. It matters too damn much.
“You want to know what I see?” Drake’s voice drops dangerously low.
“I see my best friend destroying herself to protect someone who won’t even hear her side.”
“There is no side,” I snap. “She went to Wolfe. She made a deal. She?—”
“She what?” Xander interrupts. “She did exactly what you’re doing right now? Jumped to conclusions? Made decisions based on fear instead of trust?”
The words hit like a physical blow. I close my eyes, but all I see is Isla. The way she looked at me before I walked out. Like she was memorizing my face. Like she was saying goodbye.
“You’re better than this,” Bash says quietly. “And you know it.”
But am I?
The evidence sits in front of me, waiting to be read. Waiting to change everything—or nothing at all.
Because even if they’re right, even if there’s more to the story...
She still left.
And I’m still here, drowning in the aftermath, wondering if I’ll ever trust myself to love again.
Drake’s sharp exhale breaks the heavy silence. He moves to the central screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.
“You want to know why she left? Fine. Let me show you exactly what happened.”
The lights dim automatically as IRIS activates the display wall. My stomach clenches, knowing what’s coming. Knowing I can’t avoid it anymore.
“Watch this,” Drake says, pulling up financial records. “These shell companies in Isla’s name? Created months before she joined the project. The signatures? Forged. But that’s not what matters. Look at the timing of Wolfe’s movements.”
He projects a timeline on the main screen.
“Every meeting coincides with pressure on Marie Carrington. Phone calls, surprise visits, documents being pulled from archives.”
My throat tightens. “What does her mother have to do with?—”
“Everything.” Drake’s voice is grim. “IRIS, show him the visitor logs from Marie’s building.”
Security footage appears: Wolfe, entering Marie’s apartment building last week. The timestamp makes my stomach clench - exactly a week before everything fell apart.
“He went after her mother first,” Reyna says quietly. “Whatever he has on them, whatever he threatened them with—it was bad enough to make Isla walk away from everything she’s built.”
“But why?” The word scrapes my throat. “What could be so damaging that she’d?—“
“That’s not our secret to tell,” Drake cuts in, his loyalty to Isla evident in his tone. “But think about it, Eli. You know Isla. You know her heart. Would she ever walk away without a damn good reason?”
The surveillance photos spread across the screens - Wolfe’s calculated moves, Marie’s obvious distress, Isla’s growing isolation. A pattern of pressure and pain I was too blind to see.
“She was protecting someone,” Xander says quietly. “The question is: from what?”
I stare at the evidence before me, pieces clicking into place. The fear in her eyes that I’d mistaken for guilt. The way she’d looked at me like she was memorizing my face before I walked away.
“She could have told me,” I whisper, but the words sound hollow even to me.
“Could she?” Bash challenges. “When telling you might have made things worse?”
The truth of it hits like a physical blow. Because I know Isla. Know her protective instincts, her fierce loyalty, her willingness to sacrifice herself for those she loves.
I just never thought I’d be on the other side of that sacrifice.
Drake pulls up another set of documents.
“Look at the pattern. Wolfe has been making moves against her mother. Phone calls, surprise visits, mysterious packages delivered to Marie’s apartment.”
“But what could he possibly have on them that’s worth?—“
“Worth sacrificing everything?” Reyna cuts in. “That’s what you need to ask yourself, Eli. What kind of secret would make someone as strong as Isla Carrington walk away from everything she’s built?”
The timeline spreads across the screens. Meetings, phone calls, surveillance photos showing Marie’s increasing distress. Then Isla, leaving her mother’s apartment that final night, looking destroyed.
“Jesus,” Bash mutters. “Look at her face. Does that look like someone orchestrating betrayal?”
My fingers dig into my palms.
“She could have told me. Could have trusted me to?—”
“To what?” Xander interrupts. “To fix it? To protect her? That’s exactly what Wolfe was counting on. He knew you’d try to save her, and he knew that’s exactly what she was afraid of.”
“She made the same choice you would have made,” Reyna adds quietly. “Sacrifice yourself to protect the ones you love. Even if it destroys you in the process.”
The evidence piles up before me - a story of pressure and pain I was too blind to see. But my chest still aches with the memory of her choosing silence over trust.
“Why?” The word escapes before I can stop it. “Why wouldn’t she let me help?”
Drake’s expression darkens.
“Because whatever Wolfe has on them, it’s big enough to make Isla believe she had no choice. And you know what terrifies me? She might be right.”
The truth of it hits like a physical blow. Because I know Isla. Know her fierce protection of her mother, her iron will, her determination to handle things alone.
“She’s not just protecting her mother,” Xander says quietly. “She’s protecting you too. The question is: from what?”
I close my eyes, but all I see is Isla’s face that night in Wolfe’s office - not the mask of indifference I thought I saw, but the devastation I was too hurt to recognize.
“Sometimes,” Drake says, his voice heavy with meaning, “loving someone means letting them hate you to keep them safe.”
The words echo in my chest, a truth too painful to fully grasp. Because I know exactly what that kind of love looks like.
It looks like watching someone you love disappear to protect you, and being too blind to see it until it’s too late.
The silence that follows Drake’s words feels like a physical weight. I push back from the table, needing space, needing air.
“Even if—” My voice catches. I clear my throat and try again. “Even if she was protecting me, she still made that choice alone. She still walked away.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Bash runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Are you even listening to yourself?”
“I’m listening to all of you,” I snap. “But it doesn’t change anything. She didn’t trust me enough to?—“
“To what?” Reyna’s voice cuts like steel. “To watch you throw yourself in front of her? To see you risk everything your father built? That’s exactly what Wolfe wanted.”
My hands clench into fists. “I could have handled it.”
“Could you?” Drake’s laugh is bitter. “Like you’re handling it now?”
The jab hits its mark. I turn away, but Xander steps into my path.
“You want to know what I see?” His voice is quieter than the others, but it holds more weight. “I see you doing exactly what Dad did. Letting pride and fear mask themselves as protection.”
“That’s not?—“
“You’re right,” he continues. “She made a choice. But so did you. You chose to believe the worst without question. You chose to see betrayal instead of sacrifice.”
The truth in his words burns. I brace myself against the wall, feeling the cool surface against my palms.
“So what now?” My voice sounds hollow even to me. “What am I supposed to do with all this?”
“That depends,” Reyna says. “Are you ready to admit you might have been wrong? Or are you going to let Wolfe win?”
I close my eyes, but all I see is Isla’s face on that surveillance footage. The moment when her mask slipped. The pain I was too blind to see.
“Maybe...” The words taste like ash. “Maybe it’s better this way. Cleaner.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
Drake stares at me, and for the first time, I see something raw and personal in his expression - a pain that goes deeper than just friendship. His hands clench around the edge of the table.
“You know what kills me?” His voice is low, dangerous. “Some of us would give anything for the chance you’re throwing away. For her to look at us the way she looks at you.”
The weight of unspoken truth hangs between us. All these years, all those late nights he spent supporting her, protecting her.
“Coward.” His voice trembles with fury and something else - something that feels like years of silent longing. “You don’t deserve her.”
He storms out, leaving the evidence scattered across the table. Proof of everything I didn’t want to see. Everything I was afraid to believe. And maybe something else - the realization that while I’ve been drowning in betrayal, Drake has been drowning in a different kind of pain entirely.
Bash moves to follow him, but pauses at the door.
“You know what’s worse than being betrayed, brother? Living with the knowledge that you betrayed yourself.”
The door closes behind him with a quiet click that sounds like finality.I drag a hand down my face, staring at the evidence still spread across the table.She didn’t betray me.But maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.Maybe I already lost her.