Chapter 41 Ava
Chapter forty-one
Ava
“You shouldn’t have left me, Ava. I gave you gifts. I was patient.”
He’s not talking to me. He’s talking at me. I barely react anymore. I don’t even flinch.
But inside, I’m begging.
Please. Someone. Elijah…
“Don’t get your hopes up,” George sneers, his voice dripping with condescension. “My men will take out your little lover boy before he even has a chance to step inside.”
My men. The words hit me harder than I expect.
“Your men?” I repeat, forcing my voice to stay light—sweet, almost playful—even though my stomach is twisting in knots. “Since when does a real estate agent have men, George? What exactly have you gotten yourself into?”
He leans in close, his breath hot against my ear, and his mask of fake charm vanishes.
“Since you decided to divorce me before I could use you to serve my purpose—and made me lose millions,” he hisses.
I flinch at the venom in his voice, but I don't let him see it.
And then—I hear it.
A metallic pop. A low click of a lock giving way.
And then the crash.
A door slams open. Not kicked. Blown.
Boots thunder on concrete.
Voices, sharp and decisive:
“North wall clear.”
“Visual confirmed.”
“He 's here!”
Then I hear his voice before I even process that he's here. Elijah came for me.
“Drop the fucking weapon.”
It’s not calm. It’s rage wrapped in steel.
“It’s not going to happen,” George growls, his voice laced with pure hatred.
“Let her go,” Elijah says calmly, though his eyes are fire and his stance radiates promise—the promise of violence. “Do it, and you might even have a chance of walking out of here alive.”
He’s the only one without a mask. The other three—silent and deadly—wear black ski masks, their weapons trained on George. But Elijah… Elijah wants George to see his face. To know who’s coming for him.
“Are you okay, mia cara?” one of the masked men asks, his voice low but unmistakable.
Sebastian.
He's the only one who calls me that. And George, thankfully, doesn’t seem to recognize the voice or realize that one of the most powerful businessmen in the country now has a gun aimed directly at his skull.
I give a slight nod—barely a movement.
George’s arm tightens around my neck, and I choke back a gasp as his forearm presses harder. Elijah takes a careful step forward.
“Don’t move!” George shouts, his voice rising in panic. “I swear to God, I’ll kill her right now! It’s only a matter of time before that happens anyway!”
His words chill me. My heart pounds so hard I feel it in my throat.
Elijah doesn’t flinch.
“You don’t want to kill her, George,” he says softly, taking another step. “You love her—in your twisted, broken way. That’s why you sent all those gifts, those love notes. You thought she’d come back to you.”
“One more step!” George roars, jerking the gun erratically, waving it like a club. “One more fucking step and I’ll blow her head off!”
He’s shaking. Desperate. I don’t know if he actually knows how to use the gun—but I’m not willing to find out the hard way.
Every breath feels like a countdown. And I know Elijah is calculating every single second.
Elijah
George is unraveling. I can see it in his eyes—the sweat pooling at his temples, the wild way he swings the gun like he’s daring one of us to make a move.
I keep my voice steady. Calm is the only thing that will keep Ava alive long enough for what’s coming next.
My earpiece crackles softly.
“Elijah,” Gabriel’s voice comes through, crisp and controlled.
“I’ve got a clear shot. Just say the word.”
I scan the room. Ava’s shaking, trying not to show it. George’s arm is tight around her neck, gun hand twitching, irrational. He’s barely holding it together.
Keller’s voice breaks in next.
“Wait.”
He’s just outside the room, watching from the hallway.
“Let him get just a little more off balance. If Gabe hits him now, he might squeeze the trigger by reflex.”
I grit my teeth but nod subtly. Every second we wait is a gamble. Every breath Ava takes might be her last.
Then George shifts.
His arm jerks—he starts waving the gun in front of Ava now, ranting again. I can see the calculation fade, replaced with pure desperation.
He’s going to do it. I look across the room at Kai. He meets my eyes—then rips off his ski mask.
That 's the signal.
Before George even realizes what it means, there’s a sharp crack from somewhere outside—like thunder with a razor’s edge.
The bullet hits George’s shoulder with brutal precision.
He’s ripped backward by the force of it, crying out as the gun flies from his hand and clatters across the floor. Ava stumbles forward—free—but unsteady.
I’m already moving. I catch her before she can hit the ground, pulling her tight against me.
Her breath hitches. She’s in shock. I hold her for half a heartbeat more, then shift to shield her with my body as the rest of the team sweeps in, clearing the room in seconds.
George is screaming, bleeding, writhing—but alive. Just like I promised. For now.
“Target down. Room secure,” Kai says through the comms.
“Nice shot,” I say to Gabriel, low into the mic.
“Always is,” he replies.
But my eyes are on her. She’s in my arms, trembling, alive.
And I’m not letting her go.
“I’m here, baby,” I breathe “I’ve got you.”
She’s trembling in my arms—rigid at first, like she doesn’t believe it’s real. Like her mind hasn’t caught up with the fact that she’s safe.
“Ava,” I whisper, tightening my hold on her, one hand cradling the back of her head. “It’s over baby. I’ve got you. You're safe now.”
At first, she doesn’t move. Her breath is shallow, erratic, like she’s forgotten how to breathe. Then her fingers clutch at the front of my vest—fistfuls of fabric—and she buries her face into my chest.
She breaks.
The sob tears out of her like it’s been waiting all this time. A sound that punches the air from my lungs. I don’t care that the team is still moving around us, sweeping the room, shouting clearances into comms. In this moment, it’s just her. Just Ava in my arms, shaking and alive.
“I thought… I thought he was going to kill me,” she chokes out between ragged breaths. “I didn’t think you’d find me in time.”
“You don’t ever have to think that again,” I murmur against her hair. “You’re safe now. I swear.”
Her grip on me tightens.
“I heard the shot… I didn’t know who got hit. I thought it was you.”
“It wasn’t me,” I say softly, pulling back just enough to tilt her chin up so I can look her in the eyes. “Gabriel took the shot. You were never in danger—not with all of us here.”
Her eyes—red-rimmed, glassy—search my face. I don’t know what she sees, but whatever it is, it shatters the last wall she’s been holding up.
“I was so scared,” she whispers.
“I know,” I say, voice cracking just a little.
Her lip trembles, and I wrap her back up in my arms, anchoring her to me. She presses her ear to my chest like she’s trying to memorize the sound of my heartbeat.
I don't tell her that I was scared too. That the moment George pulled her closer with that gun, I felt a kind of panic I didn’t know I was capable of. I don’t say any of that. I just hold her tighter, and I let her fall apart—because she can now. Because she’s safe in my arms where she belongs.
Ava
The cool night air hits me like a wave. Someone wraps a blanket around my shoulders. I don’t know who—I can’t stop shaking.
But I know Elijah’s here.
He hasn’t let go of me since he untied me. He keeps whispering soft things against my hair. I don’t catch every word. Just enough.
“You’re safe. I’ve got you, baby girl.”
He smells like smoke and ink and home.
My bracelet clinks softly when I lean into him.
“Elijah,” I whisper, finally finding the strength to speak.
“How did you find me?”
His pause is small. Careful.
“You remember that charm I gave you?”
I nod.
“There’s a little something inside it. A tracker. Only fires once an hour. You didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
My breath catches. “You put a tracker on me?”
“I put a lifeline on you,” he says quietly. “Because I knew if anything went wrong, I’d use every means possible to find you.”
And I start crying again. Not because I’m scared anymore.
Because someone finally came for me. And he came like fire.
***
The SUV smells like leather and adrenaline. Elijah hasn’t let go of me since they pulled me out of that horrible room. Not once.
Now, we’re in the back of one of the armored SUVs, the world outside still flashing by in a blur of streetlights and shadows. I’m not really paying attention. I don’t have to.
I’m on his lap, wrapped in a thick blanket and something warmer, his arms. His body surrounds mine like armor, steady and unshakable. His heartbeat is a quiet rhythm beneath my cheek, the only sound I want to hear.
And for the first time in what feels like forever, I can breathe.
It’s like coming home.
“Why didn't you tell me?” I whisper, voice barely audible.
“About the tracker.”
He nods, jaw clenched. “Didn’t want to scare you. But I couldn’t live with not knowing where you were. Just in case.”
“Thank you.”
His eyes snap to mine, sharp with pain. “Don’t thank me. I should’ve stopped him before it got this far.”
I squeeze his hand. “You came. You found me.”
And that’s the only thing that matters.
He pulls my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. “You’re safe now, baby girl. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”
But I still am.
Not of George. Of how much it shattered me to think I’d never see Elijah again.
“Where are we going?” My voice comes out hoarse, frayed from crying. It barely sounds like me.
Elijah tilts my chin up gently, his thumb brushing along my jaw. He presses a soft kiss to my lips—just a whisper of contact, but it steadies something in me.
“To the Kingston estate,” he says, his voice low, careful.
“There’s a medical team waiting to look you over. And if Mia doesn’t see that you’re okay… let’s just say Asher won’t survive the night.” He gives a quiet, breathy chuckle, trying to lighten the air. It almost works.
Then he adds, “If you’re willing and up for it, we’d like to hear what happened. Why was George there? Why did he had Henry’s body? But only if you want to talk about it. No pressure.”
His voice is so soft I almost miss it. Like he’s afraid anything louder might shatter me.
I swallow hard. My throat feels raw. “Where… where is…”
I can’t finish the sentence. Can’t say his name.
Elijah knows exactly who I mean.
“In one of the other vehicles,” he answers gently. “He’s being transported to a private holding cell the Kingstons use for interrogations.”
A beat of silence passes between us.
“Are you going to kill him?” I whisper. I don’t even know why I ask. Part of me already knows the answer, even if it’s one I’m not sure I’m ready to hear.
Elijah doesn’t respond right away. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Ava,” he says quietly, “now might not be the time for this conversation. You’ve been through enough in the last few hours to last a lifetime.” He pauses, searching my face.
“How about this—once the doctors check you over, I’ll run you a bath. You can eat something, rest if you want. And if you feel strong enough… we’ll talk. About everything.”
I nod.
Because he’s right. I need to feel like myself again before I can face anything else—especially a conversation about ending someone’s life. Even if that life belongs to a monster.