51. Chapter Fifty-One #2
Riot points with two fingers, never touching anything, tracing invisible lines across the floor.
“Tripwire there. Pressure plate under the bedpost. Another one under that shitty rug. Probably a motion sensor near the bookshelf, disguised in the vents.” He pauses, leaning slightly to look at Liam’s left side.
“And the vest? That’s military-grade. Not homemade. ”
My blood goes cold. He’s right. Of course he’s right. Sebastian didn’t improvise this. He designed it.
Riot keeps talking, voice shifting into that technical, clipped tone he only uses around bombs.
“Three triggers minimum. Maybe four. This isn’t just a suicide vest strapped to him—it’s part of the room.
Meaning if you cut the wrong wire? It blows.
If you pull the wrong strap? It blows. If someone breathes too hard and hits a laser trip-line? It blows.”
I stare at Liam’s chest, at the blinking light that feels like it’s ticking down my sanity.
Max steps in front of me again, grounding me. “Sparrow,” he murmurs. “Let him work.”
I nod, but my lungs feel too small.
Riot stands, rolling his shoulders, eyes still cataloging every angle. “I need thirty seconds to map this,” he says. “Nobody move. Nobody tries to talk to him. Don’t take another step inside that threshold.”
Torque mutters. “Thirty seconds is a lifetime right now.”
Riot doesn’t look away from the bomb. “Then pray he’s got thirty seconds in him.”
I swallow hard, nodding even though everything inside me feels like shattering glass. “Riot,” I whisper, “You can disarm it, right?”
He glances up at me, not reassuring, not soft, honest. “I can try,” he says. “But this is Sebastian. He wouldn’t have designed this to be disarmed.”
The words hit like a punch. My vision blurs. But I force myself to stand still. To breathe. To not run to Liam and set off everything in this nightmare.
Max’s hand finds mine and squeezes once, hard. “We’re getting him back,” he says, voice steady even if his eyes betray him.
Riot kneels again, fingers hovering inches above the tripwire.
“Give me silence,” he orders. No hesitation.
No emotion. Just a man staring down death and treating it like a mechanic’s puzzle.
Torque steps behind me. Wrecker lowers his weapon, watching Liam like he might wake up any second.
I stand there, staring at one of the men I love strapped to a bomb in a replica of my childhood bedroom.
Silent. Shaking. Breaking. Until finally…
Riot mutters, “Okay. I’ve got something.”
I hold my breath.
Riot is still mapping the triggers when a soft sound breaks the silence. A quiet click. Metal shifting. Wood scraping.
Riot’s head snaps up. “Everyone—stay still—something just—”
A figure steps out from behind the bookshelf. Not from a door. Not from a visible panel. From the shadows themselves. The nightmare. Sebastian. He moves like the floor is his, careful, precise, stepping only on specific tiles, like a dance he memorized years before he built this trap.
Torque and Wrecker raise their gun immediately.
“NO!” Riot snaps. “If he falls, we ALL go. LOWER THEM!”
They obey, but barely.
Sebastian smiles. “Baby sister, you brought all your little friends to play. How adorable.”
I grit my teeth, “Let. Him. Go.”
He tilts his head. “Why? He came willingly.”
My stomach lurches. Sebastian steps closer, eyes drinking in the horror on my face.
“I built the perfect room for you,” he murmurs. “A piece of our childhood. A piece of you. And look—” He gestures toward Liam. “Look how beautifully he fits inside it.”
My fists shake. “If you touch him—”
“Touch him?” Sebastian laughs softly. “Wrenley… baby sister… I made this moment. And you walked right in.”
Riot whispers. “He’s going for a trigger—”
Before I can process the warning an earsplitting beep slices through the room. Loud. Shrill. Final.
Riot screams, “DOWN! DOWN! DOWN!”
Max grabs me and throws us both sideways, the others diving behind whatever they can find, guarding one another as they hit the floor.
The world explodes. BOOM!
Heat slams into us. The shockwave punches breath from my lungs.
The replica bedroom erupts into fire, smoke, and splintering wood.
I hear screaming. It’s mine but I don’t register it.
Someone’s yelling Wrecker’s name. Torque’s swearing.
Glass is raining down. Max’s arms are around me as debris crashes across the floor.
Everything goes white. Then orange. Then black.
When the smoke thins. The room is unrecognizable. The bed is gone. The wallpaper is shredded and burning. The cross… The cross is gone. No body. No movement. No sound. Just a crater of twisted metal where Liam once was.
“No,” I breathe, “No—no—NO—”
Max grips me tighter. “Wren—don’t—Sparrow—stop.”
I wrench away from him, dropping to my knees and clawing at the rubble. “LIAM!” My voice cracks. “LIAM! LIAM, ANSWER ME—”
Riot pulls me back before I stumble onto exposed wiring that still sparks dangerously.
“STOP!” he shouts. “WRENLEY—STOP—there could be secondary charges—”
“I don’t care!” I scream. “He’s here—he’s under here—he HAS to be—”
Torque voice breaks. “Wrenley… there’s nothing—” He swallows hard. “There’s no one.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. My hands shake, bloody from tearing at debris. “No,” I whisper again, voice cracking in half. “He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t leave us. He wouldn’t—”
Max kneels in front of me, shaking, soot covering his face. “Sparrow,” he whispers. “I am so sorry—”
The warehouse groans around us, the explosion compromising the structure. Elias shouts through comms that the building is unstable. Torque grabs one of my arms, and Max grabs the other. Margot calls for extraction.
But all I see…
All I hear…
All I feel…
Is the gape of empty space where Liam should be. Gone. Vanished in fire. The last piece of me goes with him.