24. Ava
24
AVA
T he words are barely out of Liam's mouth before we're running to his car, headed toward the construction site where my brothers have been collaboratively working on their latest architecture venture.
Liam pulls the car onto the main road, the city lights streaking past in a blur of gold and blue. The streets are quieter now, the late hour thinning the usual congestion, but every red light feels like an eternity. His grip on the wheel is tight, jaw clenched, eyes flicking between the GPS and the road like sheer focus will make the car go faster.
I sit beside him, my heart slamming against my ribs, my stomach twisted into knots so tight I can barely breathe. Ryan and Nate are in the backseat, both tense, both simmering with barely restrained frustration.
No one speaks.
Because what the hell is there to say?
Andrew is heading to the construction site. Dean's construction site.
Out of the three Bennett brothers, Dean is the one who never left the family trade. While Ryan carved out a niche in tech startups and Nate jumped into finance, Dean stayed in the world of blueprints and steel beams, of callused hands and long hours. He took over Bennett & Sons, our father's old construction company, and built it into one of the most respected firms in the city. He's the kind of guy who wakes up at dawn, puts in fourteen-hour shifts, and still finds time to check in on his siblings—whether we ask for it or not.
And now, because of me, his name is tangled up in this mess.
My hands tighten into fists in my lap.
I glance at Liam. His profile is sharp under the glow of passing streetlights, his expression unreadable, but I know him well enough to see the tension in his posture, the way his fingers flex against the wheel like he's barely keeping himself from losing it.
He blames himself.
But this wasn't his doing alone. I'm as guilty as he is, more on account of my impulsiveness.
But the bigger part—the louder part—is just fucking scared.
The city shifts as we move toward the edge of downtown. The streets are wider here, the skyline less dense, giving way to sprawling lots and skeletal steel structures still in progress. Dean's latest project—the one keeping him late most nights—is a high-rise commercial complex, a massive undertaking that's been in the works for over a year.
And right now, it's a goddamn ghost town.
Liam pulls into the gravel lot beside a row of parked trucks, cutting the engine before we've even fully stopped.
I'm out of the car before I can think, gravel crunching under my heels as I scan the dimly lit site. The skeletal frame of the building towers above us, its exposed beams stark against the night sky. Construction equipment is scattered around, locked up for the night. A few portable floodlights cast eerie pools of white over the concrete and rebar.
No movement.
No sign of Dean.
"Where the fuck is he?" Ryan mutters, scanning the area.
"Dean!" I call, my voice sharp, cutting through the silence.
For a terrifying second, there's nothing. Just the distant hum of traffic, the rustle of wind through unfinished walls…
Then, footsteps. Heavy, purposeful.
Dean steps out from the far side of the site, a clipboard in one hand, a coffee in the other, looking both confused and irritated.
"The hell are you all doing here?"
Relief crashes through me so fast my knees almost give out.
But it lasts half a second.
Because now I have to tell him.
Ryan is already storming forward, grabbing Dean's arm. "Have you seen Andrew? Did he come here?"
Dean frowns. "Andrew? No. Why?"
Liam exhales sharply, shoving a hand through his hair. "We got word he was heading this way."
Dean's frown deepens. "For what?"
And there it is. The moment I can't avoid any longer.
I swallow hard, stepping forward. "Dean," I say carefully, my voice steady even though I don't feel it. "We need to talk."
He narrows his eyes, sensing the weight in my words. "Ava?—"
I lift a hand. "Just… listen, okay?"
I tell him everything.
The texts. The threats. The fake dating arrangement. Vanessa.
Dean's face darkens with every word. His hand tightens around the clipboard, his shoulders going rigid, his jaw clenched so tight I'm half convinced his teeth might crack.
Ryan is shifting beside me, still fuming, while Nate watches with careful, unreadable eyes.
And then Dean speaks.
"Let me get this straight." His voice is deceptively calm. "You pretended to date Carter to get back at Vanessa, and in the process, you actually pissed her off enough to start targeting you?"
I force myself to meet his gaze. "Yes."
Dean exhales through his nose, his eyes cutting to Liam. "And you just went along with it?"
Liam doesn't flinch. "It was my idea."
Dean lets out a slow, bitter laugh. "Of course it was."
Heat rises in my chest. "Dean?—"
"No, let me fucking process this, Ava," he snaps. "You didn't think to tell me? Either of you? You didn't think I had a right to know that some unhinged ex of his was putting you in danger?"
My fists clench. "Oh, you mean like how you tell me everything?"
Dean's expression sharpens. "That's different."
"Is it?" I snap. "Because from where I'm standing, you've been choosing what I do and don't get to know my entire life."
"That's not the same?—"
"It's exactly the same." I take a step closer, my breaths unsteady. "If you spent less time trying to control me and more time trusting me, maybe this wouldn't have happened!"
Silence.
Dean stares at me, stunned.
And I realize—he's never heard me talk to him like this.
I feel Ryan and Nate tense beside me, waiting for the explosion.
But it doesn't come.
Instead, Dean's shoulders sag.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
I swallow past the lump in my throat, my voice quieter now. "I'm not a kid, Dean."
He exhales slowly, dragging a hand down his face. "I know that."
No anger. Just something else. Something I can't place.
And then?—
A sharp crack in the distance.
Like footsteps on loose gravel.
Liam is already moving. He reaches for me, his hand gripping my wrist, pulling me back just as shadows shift at the far edge of the site.
"Someone's here," he mutters, voice taut.
I barely have time to process before we see him.
Andrew.
Stepping into the floodlight's glow.
His suit jacket is gone, his dress shirt rumpled, sleeves rolled up like he's been pacing, panicking. But it's the thing in his hand that makes my breath catch.
It's a crowbar.
He grips it tight, knuckles white, his entire body coiled with tension. His eyes dart between us, wild and unfocused, like a cornered animal deciding whether to fight or flee.
Liam steps forward instinctively, shifting ever so slightly in front of me. His posture is calm, but I can see the readiness in the way his shoulders tighten, the way his stance widens just enough to brace for impact.
"Andrew," Liam says, his voice smooth, steady. Slow. "Put the crowbar down."
Andrew lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, sure. Right after I take a swing at you."
Ryan stiffens beside me, his hands balling into fists, but it's Dean who speaks first.
"What the hell is this?" Dean demands, stepping forward. "Why are you here?"
Andrew scoffs, dragging a hand down his face, his grip on the crowbar momentarily loosening before tightening again. "You think I want to be here? You think I had a choice?" His gaze flicks to Liam, and something ugly flashes across his face. "No, no. You did this. You put me in this position."
Liam's expression doesn't change. "I don't even know what the hell you're talking about."
Andrew exhales sharply, nostrils flaring. "Vanessa," he spits. "That's what I'm talking about. She's been using me, blackmailing me." His voice cracks slightly before he pulls himself together, dragging his free hand through his disheveled hair. "She had dirt on me, alright? She knew about some… financial issues I had. Nothing major, nothing illegal, just…" His voice quavers, and for a moment, he looks almost pathetic. "Just things I didn't want coming to light."
Ryan scoffs. "Oh, so your brilliant solution was to sell out my sister?"
Andrew's jaw clenches. "I didn't have a choice!"
"There's always a choice," Dean says coldly, arms crossing over his chest. "But you were too much of a coward to make the right one."
Andrew's eyes flash. "Oh, please spare me the righteous big-brother bullshit. Do you have any idea what it's like to be trapped? To have someone like her holding a noose over your head?" He gestures wildly, the crowbar nearly clipping a stack of plywood behind him. "You don't know what she's capable of."
Liam tilts his head, watching him carefully. "Why don't you enlighten us?"
Andrew lets out a bitter laugh, pacing a few steps. "She's been playing a long game, Carter. You weren't the only one she was dismantling. She was making sure the Bennetts were caught in the crossfire too. She figured if she could make Ava doubt you, if she could push her far enough, she'd ruin you through them." He exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders. "She had plans, alright? And if you think she's done, you're dead wrong."
A chill skates down my spine.
Liam doesn't blink. "And what exactly were your plans, Andrew?"
For the first time, Andrew hesitates. His fingers flex around the crowbar, his stance shifting.
Ryan takes a step closer. "Andrew." His voice is dark, edged with fury. "What the hell were you planning to do here tonight?"
Andrew swallows hard. "I—I thought I could fix it." He glances around, eyes darting like he's looking for an escape. "She sent me here to make sure Dean didn't find out about the files she has on him. She said she had leverage. That if things went south, I needed to—" He cuts himself off, shaking his head. "I don't know. Warn her, stop something?—"
Dean goes completely still. "What leverage?"
Andrew drags in a shaky breath, not answering.
Liam takes a step closer. "Andrew." His voice is razor sharp. "What leverage does Vanessa have on Dean?"
Andrew exhales harshly. "There were… discrepancies in some of the early permits for this site." His eyes dart to Dean. "Nothing you did, but things that could look bad if someone was motivated enough to spin them. Vanessa made sure she had the documentation lined up. She was going to use it?—"
"Son of a bitch," Ryan hisses.
Dean's jaw flexes, his entire body wound tight as a steel cable. "So that's what this was about," he mutters. "She was setting me up."
Andrew sways slightly, like the weight of everything is finally pressing down on him. "She wasn't going to stop," he whispers, more to himself than to us. "I thought… I thought if I could just buy some time?—"
Liam's voice is cold. "And what? You'd come here, make sure Dean didn't find out, and Vanessa would suddenly forgive your debts? Let you walk free?"
Andrew flinches. "I didn't?—"
But he doesn't finish.
Because suddenly, something in him breaks.
His grip tightens. His eyes darken. His body tenses?—
And then he swings.
The crowbar cuts through the air, aiming straight for Liam's head.
Liam dodges in a split second, twisting out of the way just as the metal whistles past his temple, slamming into a steel beam with a resounding clang.
"What the fuck?" Ryan bellows, lunging forward.
Andrew stumbles, panting, wide-eyed, but he doesn't drop the crowbar. Instead, he grips it tighter, his breathing ragged, his expression twisted with something close to desperation.
Liam straightens, rolling his shoulders, his face carved from stone. "That," he says evenly, "was a mistake."