Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
RYDER
The courthouse parking garage smells like oil, concrete, and bad decisions. I know it’s a trap thirty seconds after arriving. Too quiet and empty. Wrong kind of stillness. My hand settles near the gun at my back automatically while Elena walks beside me clutching the file folder against her chest.
Today was supposed to be simple. Meet the lawyer. Sign statements. Begin dismantling Grant legally. But Grant Holloway doesn’t lose quietly.
“Elena,” I say low.
She looks up immediately. “Stay behind me.”
Fear flickers across her face instantly. “You see something?”
“Not yet.” That’s the problem.
The elevator dings somewhere deeper in the garage. Too loud in the silence. My pulse slows instead of speeding up. Combat calm. The old part of me sliding into place. I hate that Elena has to see this side of me. We’re halfway to the truck when a voice echoes through the concrete.
“You really married him.”
Grant steps from behind a support pillar with two armed men beside him. Elena freezes. I move instantly, putting myself between them. Grant looks worse than before. Unshaven.
Eyes bloodshot. Suit wrinkled. Unraveling. Good.
“You’re making this difficult,” he says to Elena like I’m not even here.
She grips the folder tighter. “I’m done talking to you.”
His expression twists instantly.
“No,” he snaps. “You don’t get to leave after everything I invested in you.”
Invested. There it is again. Like she’s property. Like she’s a transaction. Rage settles cold and vicious inside me. Grant points toward the folder.
“You really think those bikers care about you? They care about money. Same as everyone else.”
Elena trembles behind me. Not shrinking. Furious.
“You don’t know anything about them,” she says.
Grant laughs sharply. “I know exactly what he is.”
His eyes lock onto mine. “A killer.”
Silence settles heavy in the garage. Because he’s not entirely wrong. I’ve killed men.
Buried enemies. Done things overseas that still wake me up at night. Elena knows that. And she stayed anyway. Grant sees the hesitation flicker across my face and smiles cruelly.
“There he is,” he murmurs to her. “The real monster.”
Elena’s hand grips the back of my cut suddenly. Choosing me. Again. My chest goes tight enough to hurt.
“You wanna know the difference between us?” I ask Grant quietly.
He smirks. “Please.”
“You hurt people weaker than you.”
Grant’s expression hardens. “I protect mine.”
Then everything explodes. One of Grant’s men reaches for his weapon.
I draw faster. Gunshot cracks through the garage.
Concrete chips beside my head. Elena gasps behind me.
Then instinct takes over completely. I shoot the first attacker in the shoulder before he can aim again.
Grant ducks behind a pillar shouting while the second man rushes me.
Big mistake. He swings. I catch his arm, slam him into concrete hard enough to crack bone, then drive him to the floor. Grant bolts. Coward.
“Elena!” I bark.
“I’m okay!”
Good. I take off after him. The garage echoes with pounding footsteps while Grant stumbles between parked cars.
Panic has ruined his polished act completely now.
He looks small. Pathetic. He reaches the stairwell door just as I grab him by the collar and slam him backward into a car hood.
Metal dents beneath the impact. Grant chokes out a curse.
“You ruined everything,” he spits.
“No,” I say coldly. “You did.”
He swings wildly. Sloppy. Desperate. I block it easily and hit him once across the jaw hard enough to drop him to his knees. Grant coughs blood onto the concrete.
“She’ll fear you eventually too,” he rasps. “Men like you always become monsters.”
The words hit somewhere ugly inside me. Because part of me has always feared he might be right. Then Elena’s voice cuts through the garage. “No.” We both turn. She’s standing twenty feet away beside the stairwell entrance, breathing hard but steady. Looking at me. Not him.
“You don’t get to compare yourself to him,” she says to Grant quietly. “Ryder gave me choices. You took them away.”
Grant stares at her like he doesn’t recognize the woman speaking.
Good. Neither do I. Because this Elena? This angry, brave, fierce woman?
She was buried beneath fear for years. And now she’s finally clawing her way free.
Sirens echo in the distance. Police. Grant hears them too. Panic flashes across his face.
“It doesn’t matter,” he snaps desperately. “I’ll still walk away.”
Knuckles steps into the garage entrance then, holding his phone up with a grin.
“Oh, buddy. About that.”
Grant’s face drains white. Knuckles wiggles the phone slightly.
“Federal financial crimes division says hi.”
Game over. Police flood the garage seconds later. Weapons drawn.
Shouting commands. I step away from Grant slowly, hands visible. Not for fear. For Elena. She watches me carefully while officers drag Grant upright in handcuffs. He twists toward her one last time.
“This is your fault!”
Elena flinches instinctively. Then straightens.
“No,” she says softly. “It’s yours.”
And just like that… Grant Holloway finally loses.