28. Ava
28
AVA
I stand by the window in the living room of Liam's loft, staring at the city stretched out beneath me, watching the headlights snake through the streets, the neon signs flicker in the distance. The world keeps moving, oblivious to the fact that in less than twenty-four hours, we're walking into a trap.
Liam and Tyler are still in the other room, voices low and tense as they go over logistics.
My brothers arrived an hour back. Ryan stepped outside, probably pacing off his frustration somewhere, and Dean… well, Dean agreed to help, but that doesn't mean he's happy about it.
That leaves Nate.
He's sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping a beer like it's any other night, like we're not planning to outmaneuver one of the most ruthless people we've ever crossed. His posture is relaxed, his fingers tapping idly against the bottle, but when he looks up and meets my gaze, there's something knowing in his eyes.
"Come sit," he says, nudging the stool next to him.
I hesitate, then push away from the window and drop onto the seat.
He eyes me for a second before offering me the beer.
I take it, because why not? A sip burns its way down my throat, and I sigh, setting the bottle between us.
"Dean and Ryan are losing their minds over this, you know," Nate says casually.
I snort. "Tell me something I don't know."
"They're gonna try to strangle Carter when this is over."
I roll my eyes. "Again, not news."
Nate chuckles, then leans forward, resting his arms on the counter. "But me? I'm just wondering how long you two thought you were fooling anyone."
I blink. "What?"
He smirks. "Ava. Come on." He gestures vaguely toward the loft, toward the space Liam and I have been sharing like an orbit neither of us wants to break out of. "The way he looks at you? I'd have to be blind to miss it."
Heat rises to my cheeks, but I scoff, shaking my head. "We were fake dating, Nate. He had to look at me like that."
His brow lifts, amused. "And yet, here you are, still in his apartment, wearing his shirt, drinking his coffee, and looking like you'd rather fight a grizzly bear than admit what's obvious to literally everyone."
I open my mouth to argue, but damn it, what is there to argue?
Because he's right.
Even before Vanessa. Even before this tangled mess we got ourselves into. Even before I knew what this was, before I was brave enough to say it out loud—Liam looked at me like I was the only thing in the room. And I looked at him the same way.
"You know, for someone who stays out of drama, you seem awfully invested in this one."
Nate grins. "I like good storytelling."
I groan. "I hate you."
"Impossible. I'm the best one."
I shake my head, but I smile despite myself.
The moment stretches, quieter now. Not heavy, just full.
Nate's expression softens. "You know, Ava… whatever happens tomorrow, you're not alone in this. Not with us, and sure as hell not with him."
A lump forms in my throat. I swallow past it. "I know."
"You scared?"
"Terrified."
He nods, like he expected that. "Good. It means you care what happens." He leans back, tipping his bottle in my direction. "Just don't let that fear make decisions for you."
I don't answer, but I don't have to. He knows.
Nate hops off the stool, stretching. "Alright, I'm going for a stroll and taking Dean and Ryan with me. I'll be back with burgers."
And just like that, he's gone.
I sit there for a moment, staring at the condensation sliding down the beer bottle, my thoughts swirling.
Fear is a funny thing. It makes the air feel thicker, makes the ground feel unsteady, makes the future feel impossible. But Nate's right. I can't let it make decisions for me.
Liam steps into the kitchen, his presence solid, grounding. He leans against the counter across from me, arms crossed, studying me like he's trying to read my mind.
"You okay?" His voice is quiet, but it cuts through the noise in my head.
I nod slowly. "Yeah."
He doesn't look convinced. "You sure?"
I exhale, looking down. "I just… what if something goes wrong tomorrow? What if Vanessa takes everything from us?"
Liam moves. He doesn't hesitate, just steps forward, closing the space between us, and pulls me into his arms.
It's not rushed. Not desperate. Just strong. Sure.
I bury my face in his chest, inhaling the scent of him—clean, warm, steady. His hand slides up my back, his fingers pressing into my spine like he's trying to anchor me, hold me together.
"I'm not letting her win," he murmurs against my hair. "Not this time."
I squeeze my eyes shut, gripping the fabric of his shirt.
"Promise?" I whisper.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his hand tilting my chin up. His gaze is dark, steady, unwavering.
"Promise."
I believe him. I do.
But believing and knowing are two different things.
The hours pass, and the unease begins to swell to an unbearable high. Tyler is still at his laptop, fingers flying over the keys as he pulls up security feeds and blueprints of the warehouse. My brothers come back with food. We eat, and then we get back to work.
Ryan paces like a frazzled hen, Dean broods, and Nate keeps tapping his knees.
I'm gripping my mother's bracelet so tight it might leave an imprint on my skin.
I tell myself it's fine. That this will be over soon. That Vanessa will finally be out of our lives, and I can go back to something normal.
Except nothing feels normal anymore.
Not the way Liam looks at me, like I'm the only thing anchoring him to the present.
Not the way my brothers keep glancing at me, like they're waiting for me to break.
Not the way my own heart is pounding, faster and harder with every second that ticks by.
Liam steps closer, his fingers ghosting along the edge of my wrist. He doesn't grab me, doesn't pull me in. He just waits, letting me come to him. I do.
"You ready?" he murmurs.
I swallow. "I don't think I'll ever be ready for this."
A flicker of something crosses his face—understanding, maybe. He exhales, then nods. "Then let's go end it."
With that, we begin our ride to the warehouse. It's terribly silent, not because we're at ease, but because all of us are waiting.
Liam's hands stay steady on the wheel, but his jaw is locked tight, the muscle there twitching. In the backseat, Ryan and Nate are murmuring about last-minute details, while Dean sits silently, staring out the window.
I don't realize I'm clutching my bracelet until Liam's fingers brush mine.
I glance up, but he doesn't take his eyes off the road. He just hooks his pinky around mine and squeezes once.
I squeeze back.
And for a moment, it's enough.
As we get closer, my heart picks up speed. The city starts thinning out—no more polished office buildings and neatly paved streets. Now it's just wide, empty lots and skeletal warehouses, the kind of places where things go to disappear.
The kind of place Vanessa has chosen for her last stand.
I spot it first.
"Up ahead," I murmur.
Liam's gaze sharpens, following mine.
The warehouse sits at the end of a long stretch of cracked pavement, looming in the moonlight like the carcass of something long-dead. Its metal siding is rusted, its windows either shattered or boarded up. It's a place that doesn't expect visitors.
Except for one.
Vanessa's SUV is parked outside, dark and waiting.
My stomach twists.
She's already here.
Liam pulls off to the side, killing the headlights before we coast to a stop. The second he turns off the engine, my brothers' truck follows suit, their presence solid and unwavering.
For a long moment, no one moves.
Then, Dean exhales sharply. "Showtime."
My grip on my bracelet tightens.
It's time.