25. Liam
25
LIAM
A ndrew is breathing like a man who's already lost but hasn't accepted it yet. His grip on the crowbar is tight, his knuckles bone-white, his chest heaving like he's trying to draw in enough air to keep himself from crumbling. But he's surrounded, and he knows it.
The construction site looms around us—cold steel beams, stacks of lumber, half-formed walls that cast jagged shadows under the floodlights. The city hums faintly in the distance, oblivious to the fact that some desperate idiot is currently wielding a crowbar like it's going to solve his problems.
Ryan is already circling, fists clenched at his sides, his stance coiled and ready for violence. Dean looks like he's barely resisting the urge to throw the guy into the nearest concrete mixer. Even Nate, the rational one, is standing tense beside Ava, like he's deciding whether words or fists are the better option.
I shake out my shoulders, rolling my neck, keeping my stance loose. "Alright, Andrew," I say, calm and measured, like I'm talking a man off a ledge. "Let's think about this."
Andrew lets out a short, bitter laugh. "Think about what? How I just tried to cave your skull in?" He gestures wildly with the crowbar, and Ryan tenses like a pit bull on a short leash. "You think there's a way out of this for me?"
"That depends," I say easily, stepping just slightly to the left, forcing him to adjust his stance. "You could do something smart for once, or you could keep flailing that thing around and end up in a situation you can't talk your way out of."
Andrew scoffs, but his grip shifts, uncertain, hesitant. "It's already over. You don't get it, Carter. You think you know how she works? Vanessa owns people. She ruins them. You don't walk away from her."
I arch a brow. "Funny. I did."
He barks out another reckless laugh. "Yeah? And look how that turned out. She's been tearing your life apart for months. Do you really think you're winning?"
Something flickers in his expression—something unhinged and furious. And that's when I know. Andrew isn't just scared. He's unraveling.
Ryan must see it too because his fists tighten. "You're done, man. Put the damn crowbar down before we make you."
Andrew sneers. "Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you?" His gaze flicks wildly between us, calculating, desperate—until it lands on Ava.
And my stomach drops.
Because I see the decision before he even makes it.
He lunges.
Ava yelps as Andrew snatches her wrist, dragging her forward in a messy, chaotic movement. Before I can reach them, he yanks her against his chest and presses the crowbar across her throat.
Ryan swears. Dean moves. But I throw out a hand, stopping them. Because Andrew—panicked, frantic, unpredictable—is pressing too hard, his arm trembling. If they rush him, he might snap.
Ava is stiff in his grip, her breaths short and shallow, her hands hovering like she's deciding whether to claw at his arm or wait for an opening. Her eyes lock onto mine.
She's scared.
And I swear to God, something in me snaps.
"Let her go," I say, my voice dropping into something colder.
Andrew jerks his chin toward me, the wild look in his eyes flashing with something almost manic. "You don't get it, Carter. She's going to destroy me." His voice pitches higher. "I did everything she asked! I got her information! I kept tabs on Ava, on her brothers. I handed her everything! And now–now I'm the one who's screwed? Me?" He lets out a harsh, broken laugh. "You think she's gonna let me walk away? She's gonna make me disappear."
Ava lets out a strangled sound as his arm tightens slightly. My pulse spikes dangerously.
"Andrew." I take a step forward, slow and measured. "Listen to me."
His breathing hitches, erratic and ragged.
"You're right," I say. "Vanessa will burn you if she gets the chance. But that's why you need to work with us, not against us."
His eyes dart around, looking for an exit that doesn't exist.
I push forward. "You think you're alone in this? That Vanessa's only after you? She's been pulling the same shit with me for years. And I promise you, she will screw you over, just like she's screwed over every other idiot who thought she was their way out."
His jaw twitches.
I press further. "But here's the thing, Andrew—you do have a way out. If you work with us, if you help us take her down, then you don't have to be afraid of her anymore."
His grip loosens. Slightly.
Ava swallows, her voice carefully controlled. "She's using you, Andrew. Just like she's used everyone else. But you can make this right."
Something breaks in his expression. The last crumbling piece of whatever conviction he had left.
He shudders. And then…
He drops the crowbar.
It clatters to the ground, the sound ricocheting through the empty construction site like a gunshot.
Ava stumbles as he releases her. I lunge forward, catching her before she can hit the ground, my hands steadying her waist, holding her tight for one brief, grounding second.
She breathes out shakily, but she's okay. She's okay.
Andrew stumbles back a step, his entire body shaking. His hands press into his hair, his breath coming in ragged, broken gasps. And then, finally—he collapses onto his knees.
He doesn't fight anymore.
Doesn't run.
Just sits there. Shaking.
I keep one arm around Ava, pulling my phone from my pocket.
"Tyler," I say when he picks up. "Tell the cops to get here now."
I keep the phone pressed to my ear, my other hand still steady on Ava's back as she catches her breath. Her fingers curl lightly in my shirt, her body tense but solid, like she's forcing herself to stay upright. I don't let go.
On the other end of the line, Tyler lets out a low whistle. "Jesus. What the hell happened?"
I glance down at Andrew, who's still on his knees, his shoulders shaking with the weight of whatever regret has finally caught up to him.
"A lot," I say simply.
Tyler mutters a curse, the clacking of his keyboard faint in the background. "Alright. I've already got them on standby. They'll be there in five."
"Good." I end the call and slide my phone back into my pocket, exhaling slowly.
Ava pulls away slightly, just enough to look up at me. Her eyes are still wide, her breaths shallow, but she's here. She's safe.
"Are you okay?" I ask, my voice quieter now.
She nods once, then swallows hard. "Yeah. I just…" She shakes her head, like she's trying to clear the last remnants of fear. "You handled that really well."
I exhale a dry laugh. "Better than getting my skull cracked open, I guess."
Before she can respond, Ryan's voice cuts through the tension like a blade.
"You want a fucking medal?"
I don't flinch. I knew this was coming.
Ryan storms forward, his fists clenched at his sides, his expression dark enough to start a fire. Dean is right behind him, arms crossed, his face carved from stone. Even Nate—calm, measured, rational Nate—looks like he's considering throwing a punch just for the principle of it.
Ava stiffens beside me, and I can already tell she's about to step in, about to play peacemaker, but I squeeze her waist once. A silent let me handle this .
I turn fully to face her brothers, standing my ground.
Dean's gaze flicks to Andrew, still trembling on the ground. "So," he says, his voice edged with something I can't quite place. "That was… a situation."
I arch a brow. "Understatement of the year."
Ryan takes another step closer, jabbing a finger in my direction. "You almost got my sister killed."
I meet his glare without hesitation. "And I also stopped that from happening."
Ryan frowns at me. "You really want credit for doing the bare minimum?"
Dean exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ryan."
Ryan's jaw tics, but he steps back. Slightly.
Dean's eyes lock onto mine, assessing. "Look. I'm not going to pretend I'm happy about any of this," he says slowly. "But I'm also not going to ignore the fact that you kept her safe tonight."
It's as close to a thank-you as I'm going to get.
I nod once. "That's the goal."
Dean's gaze sharpens. "Yeah? And what about after tonight?"
I don't hesitate.
"I'll do whatever it takes to protect her."
Ryan lets out another scoff, but it's Nate who finally steps forward. "That's a bold promise, Carter."
I meet his gaze. "I don't make promises I don't intend to keep."
For a long moment, silence stretches between us, heavy with things unsaid. Dean looks at Ava, then back at me, and something shifts in his expression. Like he's seeing something he doesn't want to see but can't deny.
He exhales through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Alright," he mutters. "Let's see if you mean that."
The tension between us doesn't ease, but it settles. For now.
Ava steps forward, moving between me and her brothers, shaking off the last remnants of fear like she's shedding a second skin. "Can we please not do the whole testosterone-fueled posturing thing right now?" She gestures toward Andrew, who still hasn't moved. "We have bigger things to worry about."
Right on cue, the distant wail of sirens cuts through the night.
Ryan lets out a long breath, running a hand through his hair before muttering, "This night is bullshit."
I smirk. "Welcome to my life."
The red and blue lights wash over the steel beams as the police cars pull into the lot, tires crunching against the gravel. Officers step out, their radios crackling, their hands resting near their holsters.
Ava exhales in relief. "Finally."
Dean gives me one last look before shaking his head and stepping back. Ryan grumbles something under his breath that I don't bother deciphering. Nate—who I suspect has already decided this conversation isn't over—just sighs.
And then, as we turn away from the flashing lights, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
A new message.
I already know it's Vanessa before I even look.
You may have won tonight, but this isn't over. See you at the finale.