Chapter 44
Chapter forty-four
Elijah
The room is thick with sweat and silence. George hangs from the ceiling, wrists shackled, arms pulled so tight he has to fight for every breath. The blood-soaked bandage on his shoulder tells me the bullet wound Gabe gave him didn’t kill him—but it sure as hell hurt.
He deserves worse.
I walk a slow circle around him, the echo of my boots making him flinch with each step. Kade leans against the wall, silent, watching. His eyes are cold, calculating. He’s ready to step in—but he knows this is mine.
George lifts his head when I stop in front of him. There’s defiance in his bloodshot eyes, but it’s fading. Being strung up like a carcass tends to break even the most arrogant bastards.
“You know what’s funny?” I say, voice low. “You spent so much time trying to scare her. You sent that pathetic excuse of a man to hurt her. You planned, plotted, played your little games. And still, you didn’t stop to ask yourself one thing.”
He glares at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Between notes and flowers for my girlfriend,” I continue, tone sharpening, “did you ever once think to find out who I am? What I did before I came to this city?”
His eyes shift. There it is—that flicker of realization. He’s guessed something.
“Hmm,” I nod, stepping closer. “I see it now. You’ve figured out a little bit. Good. Then you know I’ve have… experience. A variety of entertaining methods for making death something that drags. Days. Weeks. Months.”
I glance back at Kade.
“My friend here,” I say, gesturing. “Kade, will let me keep you right here. He understands. Hell, he’ll help.”
Kade grins, all teeth and menace. “Take all the time you need.”
George tenses, but says nothing. So I lean in.
“Every time I come to see you,” I whisper, “you’ll know I just left her. That Ava is in my bed every night. Mine. My girl. My girlfriend. My fiancée, my wife one day.”
George flinches, a twitch in his jaw.
“And you? You’ll be here. Rotting in this room, hung like the pig you are. And the closest you’ll ever get to her again—” I let the words land slowly “—is when you smell her on my skin. When the same fingers I use to pleasure her are the ones I use to torture you.”
His face twists in rage and humiliation, and it only makes me calmer.
“She sleeps in my arms. She’s safe because I found her. You’re nothing, George. You’re a footnote in the story of her survival.” I say, eyes never leaving his.
“I’ll kill you,” he spits, struggling against the chains.
I laugh once—cold and hollow. “I’d like to see you try.”
Then I walk away, letting his rage and the weight of his defeat hang heavier than the chains that bind him.
Kade speaks from behind me. “What now?”
I pause at the door.
“Now? We let the boys have fun with him for a while.”
***
We’ve been here for hours, and George hasn’t said a damn thing that matters. That’s because whoever sent him didn’t give him anything useful. Whoever’s behind this knew exactly what they were doing—clean hands, clean trail. And that terrifies me more than anything.
I lean forward, blood dripping from my busted knuckles, voice low and cold. “Come on, George. Give us something, and this ends. You get a quick end.”
He mumbles something—words slurred and thick. No surprise. His face is swollen beyond recognition. What does catch me off guard is the curl of his lip, the twitch of something that could’ve been a smile if he still had a working jaw.
I’m about to ask what the hell he finds funny when I feel it… her.
I turn. And there she is.
Ava.
She’s standing in the doorway like some fallen angel, quiet, composed… watching me.
I freeze.
I’m drenched in blood. His blood. My hands are shaking from rage and pain. The room stinks of iron, sweat, and the aftermath of cruelty. And she’s seeing it all—seeing me, the version I’ve always kept behind walls for her sake. The version that tortures, breaks, executes without hesitation.
And for the first time since I found her, I’m afraid.
Because this might be the moment she sees the monster I really am.
“Ava, princess…” My voice cracks slightly. “What are you doing here?”
Her eyes flick between me and George. Once. Twice. And then again. Her expression is unreadable—until George, with what little air he has, speaks.
“This is what you chose,” he slurs. “A monster. A murderer. Look at him, Ava. Look at what he really is…”
The words are mangled, barely coherent—but the meaning lands.
And for a heartbeat, I hold my breath.
But something changes in her. I see it in her shoulders first—squared, steady. In her chin, lifted. In her eyes, no longer glassy with fear but clear, sharp, resolute.
Step by step, she walks toward me.
Then past me.
She turns to face George, who looks at her through swollen, blood-crusted eyes.
Ava turns to me, eyes glowing with something fierce and unshakable. And then she says it. Calm. Clear. Final.
“Finish as soon as possible, please. I need you, Daddy. I love you.”
The world tilts. My heart stutters.
She rises onto her toes and kisses me. Short. Sweet. Solid.
And just like that, George’s fate is sealed.
“I love you too, baby girl,” I whisper, unable to hide the smile that breaks across my face. “I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”
I kiss her again. A promise, a vow.
Like the obedient little princess she is. She nods, turns around, and walks out.
Behind her, George begins screaming—broken cries and desperate curses that she will never hear again.
Because I’m going to make sure the last thing this bastard ever knows...
...is that she chose me.
Ava
When I walked down those stairs, I never imagined what I was going to see.
But there he was.
The love of my life—covered in the blood of my ex-husband.
The man who’d toyed with my mind from the moment I met him.
The one who slipped poison into every word, every gesture, every shadow.
The man who tore through my life with threats and notes, who shattered the peace I fought so hard to build.
Who destroyed my store—my safe haven—and made me feel like prey in my own skin.
And now, he was paying for every single one of those sins.
Should I be afraid? Disgusted? Should I flinch at the sight of Elijah like this—bloodstained, brutal, the executioner I never truly imagined he could be?
Probably.
But I’m not.
Because the moment Elijah saw me in that room, all the fury in him faltered. I saw it—clear as day. Fear. Not of George. But of me.
The kind of fear you only carry when you're terrified of losing the person you love.
I never thought I’d see fear in Elijah Blacksmith’s eyes. But there it was, raw and real—the quiet, panicked question: Will she still love me after seeing this part of me?
So I did the only thing that felt right. I walked to him. I kissed him. I told him I loved him.
And that was the moment I chose him. I chose us. Not because he's perfect, but because he's mine. And because I know—down to my bones—that I am his.
I’m almost at the top of the stairs when I hear the gunshot.
That sound. That one sharp crack.
It’s like a bell ringing out over a battlefield—the sound that marks before and after.
And now, we're in the after.
I know I have a long road ahead. So many pieces of myself to gather. So much healing to do.
But I also know this:
I won’t be alone.