Chapter 38
thirty-eight
The auctioneer’s voice sharpens, cutting cleanly through the room as the assistants wheel the glass case fully into view. The book sits inside like a relic—spotlights glinting off the worn leather, the gold lettering dulled by time and too many hands that never deserved to touch it.
My stomach knots.
I recognize the nick on the spine instantly. The faint crease in the lower corner of the cover where Libby bent it, swearing she hadn’t. My pulse thunders in my ears as if my body knows before my mind finishes catching up.
That’s it.
That’s hers.
The bidding starts fast. Too fast. Twelve thousand becomes fourteen, then sixteen, then twenty before I can even draw a steady breath. The numbers bounce effortlessly from polished mouths, each increase a casual flex of wealth that makes my skin crawl.
“This is sick,” I mutter, my fingers curling into the fabric of my dress. “They’re parading her life like it’s a trinket.”
Seamus shifts closer to me, his jaw tightening. “How high do you think it’ll go?”
“High,” I answer grimly. “Collectors don’t miss opportunities like this.”
Liam studies the crowd, his expression unreadable now—calculating. The way it gets when he’s weighing risk against reward, sentiment against strategy. I can practically see the numbers moving behind his eyes.
Twenty-five.
Thirty.
My chest tightens with every raise, panic licking up my spine. If we lose this—if someone else walks out of here with it—Libby’s message disappears into a private vault, sealed away forever. Elias’s secrets stay buried. His benefactor stays protected.
“Liam,” I say quietly, urgency bleeding into my voice. “If we don’t get that book tonight, we may never get it.”
He doesn’t look at me right away. Instead, he lifts his paddle with calm precision.
“Thirty-five thousand.”
A murmur ripples through the room.
Seamus lets out a low whistle. “That got their attention.”
Sure enough, a man across the room smirks and counters immediately. Forty.
My heart drops.
Liam doesn’t hesitate.
“Forty-five.”
I stare up at him, stunned—not just by the number, but by the certainty in his posture. The refusal to back down. This isn’t just a bid anymore. It’s a declaration.
The room goes quiet, tension coiling thick in the air as the auctioneer scans for the next challenger.
I lean closer to Liam, my voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off the stage. “If your sister left you a map,” he says evenly, “then we’re following it.”
The gavel lifts.
For a breathless second, the world holds still.
Ten minutes later, I stand near the side of the stage with the book in my hands.
It’s heavier than I expect.
Solid.
Real.
The worn leather presses into my palms, grounding me in a way nothing else has tonight. I run my thumb over the spine, feeling the faint crease I know by heart, the one Libby swore she didn’t make.
Don’t worry, Libby. I’ll finish what you started.
For a brief, fragile second, the world feels almost still.
Then it shatters.
“Someone want to explain to me why you broke our low profile to bid on a damn fucking book?”
Matthias’s roar slices through the noise of the ballroom as he stalks toward us, his presence drawing eyes even now. His steps are heavy, furious, controlled only by sheer force of will. The storm in him crackles, sharp and dangerous.
“We were supposed to be keeping a low profile,” he continues, gesturing sharply toward the stage behind me, “not flaunting our wealth like amateur assholes.”
“I wouldn’t have bid on it if it wasn’t necessary, Dashkov,” my father replies calmly, stepping slightly in front of me. “It wasn’t planned. Ava found something, and we require the book to decode it.”
Matthias’s jaw tightens. “And you didn’t bother to inform us so we could be better prepared?”
“Last time I checked,” Liam says coolly, “I don’t answer to you.”
“No,” Matthias snaps, closing the distance between them, “but we are supposed to be working together.”
“Didn’t look like you were working all that hard when you had Serena Belsky’s tongue shoved down your throat,” Seamus mutters.
The words hang there.
His eyes go wide a second too late, his hand clamping over his mouth.
Oh.
Matthias’s gaze snaps to me. Dark. Searching. “It’s not what it looked like,” he growls, but I keep my face carefully blank. At least, I hope I do. I’ve learned how to lock things down when the pain is sharp enough.
“You could have at least waited until the divorce papers were filed before you went sticking your tongue where it doesn’t belong,” I say evenly, lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug. “I’d say you should’ve been more discreet, but no one knows we’re married, so…”
“Ava.” His voice drops. Softens. Nearly pleads.
I hate that it still works on me.
“Don’t worry,” I cut in before he can say anything else. “You can suck on her tongue all you want. I signed the papers Ben left. So don’t worry about me. Now, if you’ll—”
The impact comes out of nowhere.
A heavy body slams into mine, knocking the breath clean from my lungs as glass explodes around us. The sound is deafening—shattering, screaming, chaos all at once. I hit the floor hard, pain blooming through my side as the world tilts violently.
“Everyone, get down!”
No.
Not again.
Please, not again.
“Ava!” Someone screams my name. “Ava!”
My heart is racing so fast I swear it’s going to tear itself free of my chest. Cold floods my veins, turning my blood to ice as I struggle to focus. There’s weight on top of me. Too much.
I turn my head.
His face is inches from mine.
Stormy eyes closed. Skin pale. Breathing shallow.
Why is he so pale?
“Matthias?” My voice comes out broken, barely sound at all. “Matthias?”
I lift my hand, my fingers trembling as I nudge his shoulder.
Nothing.
“Matthias?” Panic claws up my throat, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. My vision blurs as I look down and see it—the dark, spreading wetness soaking into my dress.
“No.” My breath stutters. “Somebody call 9-1-1.”
Hands grab me under my arms, hauling me up and back. I collide with a warm chest, the familiar scent of citrus and cloves wrapping around me like a shield.
My father.
“Matt!” Vas barrels in from the other side of the stage, a large red medical bag slung over his shoulder.
He drops to his knees beside Matthias, hands already moving, voice tight but steady.
I’ve never seen him look like this—panicked, but focused.
Terrified, but in control. “Matthias, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
A sob tears free from my chest.
He can’t die.
Please.
Movement catches my eye.
The curtain rustles.
A head peeks out from behind it—blond hair spilling in soft waves over one shoulder, crystalline blue eyes glittering with something dark and amused as she surveys the carnage.
Mirth.
Then she’s gone.
Kenzi?
No. That’s impossible. I would have seen her earlier. I did see everyone with Liam.
But I know those eyes.
Sirens wail in the distance, dragging my attention back as paramedics rush in, voices sharp and urgent. They lift Matthias onto the gurney, blood staining the sheets beneath him.
Another sob wracks my body.
“Matthias,” I cry, reaching for him as they wheel him past, but my father holds me back, arms locking around me.
“Shh,” he murmurs into my hair. “Let them do their job.”
“I want to go with him,” I beg, my voice breaking into hysteria. “Please, I have to—”
“They won’t let you,” he whispers. “He needs immediate attention.”
“But—”
“Shh,” he soothes, and then his voice changes, deep and rhythmic, vibrating through my bones as he sings softly.
“Hó bha ín, Hó bha ín.
Hó bha ín, mo ghrá.
Hó bha ín, mo leana,
Agus codail, go lá.”
My breath catches.
It’s him.
The voice from my fever dreams. The one that anchored me when I’d been shot. The one that kept me alive.
I cling to him as I sob, the blood-smeared book crushed to my chest while the ambulance doors slam shut.
Then a phone is shoved into view.
“It’s for you,” Vas snarls, but not at me.
I stare at it numbly before lifting it to my ear. “Hello?”
“So close, big sister.” Kenzi’s voice slides through the line, bitter and sharp. “I wasn’t aiming for him, but I’ll take what I can get.”
“Kenzi, what are you doing?” My voice cracks.
“Taking revenge,” she hisses. “You all killed her. Now I’ll kill you. One by one.”
“Whatever Christian told you isn’t true,” I plead. “He’s the one—”
“Don’t lie to me, Avaleigh.”
Cold. Final.
“I wonder what other surprises lie in store,” she laughs softly. “You might want to hurry. I hear the main event is… explosive.”
The line goes dead.
“Matthias!” I take off running, heels slipping from my feet as I clutch the book and hike my dress, shoving through the crowd as voices shout my name behind me.
She was aiming for me.
That bullet was meant for me.
“Wait!” I scream.
Too late.
The ambulance pulls away, siren blaring once before—
The explosion rips through the air.
The blast throws me backward, my head slamming into the concrete as fire blooms where the ambulance had been. Sound vanishes, replaced by a thick, underwater silence.
Hands grab me.
I don’t move.
I can’t.
I just stare at the burning wreckage where the pieces of my heart just died.