Chapter 24
I gasped.
“Creed—he has a gun.”
Creed’s voice came through the speaker, low and feral. “You so much as touch her and I’ll end you.”
Francesco smiled.
Pleased.
“We’ll see,” he murmured.
Creed didn’t hesitate. “I promise you won’t live long enough to regret it.”
That did it.
Francesco ripped the phone from my hand, ending the call mid-breath. The silence afterward was absolute. He slid my phone into his back pocket like it meant nothing.
“Where’s the computer?”
“In Ray’s office.”
His hand clamped around my arm and yanked me forward. I stumbled, fought him anyway.
“Don’t fight me,” he said calmly.
I did.
The slap came fast—hard enough to snap my head sideways. White light burst behind my eyes. My ears rang.
“Sit!”
He shoved me into Ray’s old office, kicked the folding chair into place, and forced me down. Metal screeched against the floor, the sound sharp and final.
He paced once in front of me. Controlled. Coiled.
“Now,” he said, “what’s the plan?”
Rage simmered beneath his composure—tight, barely contained. Sweat beaded at his hairline, catching the fluorescent light.
“I don’t know how to transfer it,” I told him.
“Get me my money.”
“I’m telling you the truth,” I said, forcing my voice steady. “I don’t have the access code. I can see the money, but I can’t move anything.”
His jaw flexed. A vein jumped.
“Then figure it out.”
I reached for the laptop—slow, careful. My hands shook as I opened it, the screen flaring to life.
“I’m looking for a transfer workaround,” I said, typing nonsense. Stalling. Buying seconds.
He laughed softly and stepped closer, blocking my view.
“Don’t insult me,” he said. “Just get me my money.”
While his eyes stayed on my face, I opened Ray’s email and fired off a message to Creed. No subject. No explanation. Just enough.
Then I looked up. “How did your father find out Ray was skimming?”
That stopped him.
“My cousin Aurora,” Francesco said after a beat. “Accounting degree. Audited the books. Noticed the padding.”
“And Marco sent you.”
A shrug. “Of course.”
“But Ray knew if he gave you the money, he’d die anyway.”
Something like respect flickered in Francesco’s eyes. “You’re sharper than you look.”
His words landed like rot spreading through bone.
“I have someone watching your house,” he said casually. “You take too long, I make a call.”
My chest constricted. My girls’ faces flashed behind my eyes—soft hair, sleepy smiles, trust.
He stepped closer. I leaned back against the chair, trapped.
“I’m working as fast as I can,” I said. My voice cracked. I hated it did.
“Then work faster.”
He lifted his shirt just enough for me to see the gun at his waist.
Not a threat.
A reminder.
Fear raced in tight circles, chewing through reason. I stared at the bank’s homepage until the numbers blurred.
An email flashed across the screen.
Stay calm. I’m coming to get you.
Hope. Terror. Relief—twisted so sharply I had to swallow to keep from reacting.
I stayed quiet.
Francesco liked his women silent. Afraid.
That part wasn’t an act.
I logged in with the username and password. When the authentication prompt hit, I reached into my purse and pulled out the prepaid phone.
His eyes sharpened. “Where did you get that?”
“Ray’s burner,” I said. “I need the five-digit authentication code.”
I closed the email window as he circled behind me. His presence crawled up my spine.
The account loaded.
Three million dollars.
Untouched.
“There it is,” he breathed.
“I don’t see a way around the passcode,” I said.
“I want my money.”
“Maybe if I contact the bank as his wife—”
“I don’t have time,” he snapped. “I need it now.”
Francesco removed my phone from his pocket, scrolling. His mouth curved slowly.
“A ransom,” he mused. “That’s faster.”
He wrapped an arm around my neck, pulled me tight, snapped a photo. Stars burst behind my eyes.
“I’ll send this to your boyfriend,” he said. “Three million.”
He paused. Looked at me.
“Five sounds better.”
He hit send.
“Now we wait.”
The phone rang almost immediately.
Francesco answered.
“Change of plans,” he said smoothly. “Bring the money, or your girlfriend doesn’t see another day. I’ve got a gun on her—and two more on her twins.”
“No!” I lunged.
He shoved me hard. The chair tipped. I crashed onto my back. Pain exploded through my spine.
He laughed into the phone. “Relax. She’s fine. For now.”
Francesco’s gaze dropped to me, slow and assessing.
“She’s flat on her back,” he said. “Just how I like my women.”
The call ended.
I bolted for the door.
He caught me, twisted my arm until fire shot through my shoulder.
“Calm down,” he said quietly. “Or I’ll smash your head into the wall.”
I froze.
“Tell me you’ll behave.”
I nodded.
He slapped me again. Harder.
“I asked for an answer.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I’ll behave.”
Only then did he let go.
Time dissolved.
Then—
A knock.
Another. Harder.
On the window.
“Peyton, it’s Celine. I left my phone in the restroom.”
Francesco frowned. “Go.”
I moved with him behind me. Her phone sat on the sink.
When we returned, she knocked again.
He spun me toward the door, fingers biting into my arm. “Get rid of her. Try anything and I’ll kill you.”
I believed him.
I opened the door a crack. Celine’s relief hit me like a blow.
“I thought you were leaving,” she said.
“In a minute,” I lied, handing her the phone.
Her eyes flickered as if asking—
Are you okay?
I nodded too fast.
“Anything I can do to get you out of here?” she asked.
“Go,” I said. “You’ll be late.”
She hesitated. Put a foot in the door.
Francesco opened it fully.
Then yanked Celine into the office.
The gun came up.
“Wait!” she cried. “I—I did what you asked!”
My stomach dropped.
“Celine?” My voice barely existed.
She looked at me—broken. Guilty. “I didn’t have a choice. He threatened my family.”
The gun fired.
She fell.
Blood bloomed across her chest like spilled ink.
I screamed.
Francesco stood over her, smiling.
“She got you here. Her services are no longer needed,” he said, nudging Celine with his foot.
Something inside me went very still.
“Let’s finish,” he said.
Francesco dragged me back into Ray’s office.
Back to the computer. Back to the money.
“Sit.”
My fingers hovered over the keys.
“You move it,” he whispered, “or I paint this room red.”
He tossed me a slip of paper with account numbers.
I entered everything but the passcode.
My mind clawed backward—
And then I remembered.
Ray’s letter.
Don’t forget the day we met.
092106.
I changed the amount.
3,000,000 → 300
Entered the passcode.
Submit.
The screen paused.
Then—
Transfer successful.
Francesco leaned in and his phone buzzed.
He looked down at the screen, then at me with a grin. “Transfer the rest.”
“No.”
The word came out steady. It surprised us both.
“I said no,” I continued quietly. “Not until I know my girls are safe.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your girls.”
“Let them go.”
He moved closer, gun rising. “I can kill you right now.”
“And if you do,” I said, unblinking, “you’ll never see that money.”
For a fraction of a second—
He hesitated.
“You’re bluffing.”
“No.” I swallowed. “I’m bargaining.”
The room held its breath.
Then—
BOOM!
Glass exploded inward. Light and sound detonated together.
Francesco spun—
Creed came through the room like violence given form.
Three shots.
I felt them before I saw them.
Francesco folded, blood spraying the floor. He screamed.
Creed didn’t.
“Don’t move,” Creed said, his voice shaking with restraint.
I collapsed.
He was beside me instantly, hands on my face.
“Are you hurt?” His voice cracked. “Peyton—are you hit?”
“No.” I fisted his shirt. “I’m okay.”
Behind us, Francesco groaned.
Creed looked at him once.
The look chilled me.
He kicked the gun away and pressed his boot to Francesco’s throat—not crushing. Reminding.
Sirens wailed closer.
Creed pulled me into his chest, holding me like the ground had fallen away.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “Jesus, Peyton.”
I broke.
The sobs came ugly and unstoppable. He didn’t stop them. Just held me.
Police flooded in. EMTs followed.
They worked on Celine with brutal efficiency before rushing her out.
“Is she alive?” I choked.
“Yes,” Creed said tightly. “Barely.”
Francesco screamed as they cuffed him. “This isn’t over—”
“The Barone family will finish you,” Creed said calmly.
Francesco went still.
They dragged him out—bleeding, broken.
And for the first time since Ray died—since the money, the threats, the shadows—
I knew it was over.
* * *
LATER. MUCH LATER. I sat wrapped in a blanket, my hands shaking around a paper cup I couldn’t bring myself to drink from.
Creed knelt in front of me again, his movements slower now. Careful. As if I were something fragile he refused to break.
“They’ll prosecute him,” he said. “Federal. International. He won’t see daylight for a very long time.”
I nodded. I didn’t trust my voice with words yet.
“And if he gets out on a technicality?”
His expression hardened—not with anger, but certainty. “He still won’t see daylight.”
That answer settled something inside me.
“And the money?” I asked.
Creed exhaled through his nose. “That’s the next fight.”
I looked up at him.
“For tonight,” he said, brushing his thumb beneath my eye, grounding me, “you survived. That’s enough.”
I leaned into his hand and let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for years.
Creed left to speak with the police and returned later with coffee. I didn’t want it, but I wrapped my hands around the cup anyway—something solid to anchor me while the world tried to stitch itself back together.
He told me Celine was out of surgery. Stable. Sedated.
The doctor had said she was lucky.
We were lucky.
“She came back for me,” I said quietly.
Creed nodded once. “She did.”
The silence between us stretched—not empty, not awkward. Steady. The kind that lets you breathe.
“I almost lost you today.” His voice caught on the last word.
“You didn’t.”
He nodded again, as if he needed to hear it twice to believe it.
Once the weight of what Celine had done settled between us—heavy but survivable—Creed went still, his gaze drifting past me, jaw tightening as if the moment had nudged him somewhere I hadn’t followed yet.
He didn’t speak right away.
Then he exhaled and looked back at me, something stripped bare in his eyes.
“I’ve spent my entire life controlling outcomes,” he said. “Power. Risk. Exposure. I thought if I managed enough variables, nothing could touch me.”
“But it did.”
“Yes.” He swallowed. “You did.”
I held his gaze. There was no armor left. No calculation. Just truth.
“My parents taught me how to win,” he said quietly. “They never taught me how to stay.”
My chest tightened.
“I told myself you were temporary. That this—” his mouth curved faintly, without humor “—was contained.”
I didn’t interrupt. This wasn’t something to rush.
“I was wrong,” he said. “I fell in love with you. And I didn’t know what to do with that.”
Tears burned, but I didn’t look away.
“I love your daughters,” he continued. “Not because they make me feel like a savior—but because they trust me. And I want to deserve that trust.”
My breath shook. “I’m scared,” I admitted. “Of how much it costs to love you. Of what it takes from me.”
He stepped close—not claiming, not crowding.
“Then we pay it together,” he said. “Or we don’t pay it at all.”
He took my hand and pressed it over his heart. It was still racing.
“This is open,” he said. “Not owned. Chosen.”
Something in my chest finally loosened—something I hadn’t realized I was still holding tight.
“We had an agreement,” I said softly.
He didn’t correct me right away.
His thumb traced slow, absent circles over my knuckles—grounding, thoughtful.
“That was the collar,” he said finally. Not dismissive. Honest.
“This is a commitment.” His voice didn’t waver. “Chosen. Every day.”
He met my eyes.
“You have my heart. I love you, Peyton.”
I leaned in and kissed him.
Not tentative. Not desperate.
Honest.
He kissed me back like a man who understood what it meant to stay.
When we pulled apart, my forehead rested against his.
“Scared?” he murmured.
“Hell yes.”
“So am I.” Then he smiled—real, unguarded. “But I’m here.”
Later, after the nurses dimmed the lights and the hallway quieted, Creed sat beside me. He didn’t hold me. Didn’t try to fix anything.
He was simply there.
And for the first time since secrets surfaced—since Ray’s death, the money, the blood, the fear—
The silence felt earned.
Outside the window, dawn edged into the sky, soft and unafraid.
And for once, I didn’t wonder what would happen next.
I knew we’d face it.
Together.