Damien's POV
"One hour," I say, staring at the photo of James Monroe. "They want us at the storage unit in one hour."
Ivy's face is white as paper. "Then we go. We give them the flash drive, and they let my father go."
"It's not that simple." I grab her shoulders, forcing her to focus. "These people killed to get what they want. Or at least, they made James fake his death. They won't just let us walk away."
"So what do we do?" Her voice breaks. "Just let them kill him?"
"We get to that storage unit first. Get the flash drive. Then we have something to bargain with." I check my watch. "But we need to move fast."
We're halfway to the car when my phone rings. Elena.
"Don't go to that storage unit," she says immediately. "I've been digging into James Monroe's death. Damien, the accident report was falsified. The car that went off the bridge? It was stolen. The body they identified was someone else."
"I know. James is alive. We just got proof."
Silence. Then: "What?"
I explain quickly while driving. Ivy sits beside me, shaking, her whole world falling apart.
"This is bigger than we thought," Elena says. "I found something else. Two weeks before James supposedly died, forty million dollars went missing from your company accounts. Money you were holding for a client."
My blood runs cold. "What client?"
"That's the thing. The client name was fake. The whole account was a shell. But I traced it back to—Damien, are you sitting down?"
"Just tell me."
"Russian mob. You were laundering money for the Russian mob, and you didn't even know it. James set it up using your company as cover."
I nearly drive off the road. "He what?"
"The money disappeared the same week he died. The mob's been looking for it ever since." Elena's voice is grim. "If they have James, they'll torture him until he gives up the flash drive. Then they'll kill him. And anyone who knows about it."
Ivy grabs my arm. "We have to save him!"
"Elena, can you trace the mob connection? Find out who's running this?"
"Already on it. But Damien? Be careful. These aren't regular criminals. They're—" She stops. "Someone's at my door."
"Don't answer it."
"It's probably just—" A crash. Glass breaking. Elena screams.
The line goes dead.
"Elena!" I shout into the phone. Nothing. "Elena!"
Ivy's eyes are huge. "What happened?"
"They found her." I'm already turning the car around, heading toward Elena's apartment. "They know she's helping us."
"But the storage unit—"
"Forget the storage unit. This is a setup. They're hitting everyone we care about, forcing us into the open." My mind races. "They have your father. Now they have Elena. Who else knows about this?"
Ivy thinks. "Serena. Your daughter. If they know about Elena, they might know about her too."
I dial Serena's number. It rings and rings. No answer.
"Come on, pick up," I mutter. "Pick up, Serena."
Finally, she answers. "Dad? What's wrong?"
"Where are you?"
"At the estate. I came back to get some of my things." Her voice is cold. "Why do you care?"
"Get out of there. Now. Don't ask questions, just get in your car and drive to—"
"There's someone at the door," Serena interrupts.
"Don't open it!"
"It's probably just security—"
"Serena, listen to me very carefully. Lock yourself in the panic room. Right now. Use the code I gave you."
"Dad, you're scaring me."
"Good. Be scared. And move!"
I hear footsteps through the phone. Then Serena's breathing, faster now, frightened.
"The panic room door won't open," she whispers. "The code isn't working."
"They changed it." My heart pounds. "Get out of the house. Use the back exit. Run to the woods and hide."
"I hear them downstairs. They're inside the house."
Ivy grabs the phone. "Serena, it's me. Listen to your dad. Run. Now."
"Ivy? What are you doing with my father? Why are you—"
A crash through the phone. Men shouting. Serena screaming.
Then silence.
"Serena!" Ivy and I both yell.
A new voice comes on the line. Male. Calm. Dangerous.
"Hello, Mr. Cross. We have your daughter. We have your assistant. And very soon, we'll have you." The voice is smooth, almost friendly. "You have thirty minutes to bring the flash drive to SecureSpace. Unit 47. Come alone, or we start cutting off fingers. Starting with your daughter's."
"If you hurt her—"
"Thirty minutes." He hangs up.
I'm driving ninety miles an hour, running red lights, not caring about anything except getting to that storage unit.
"We need a plan," Ivy says, her voice surprisingly steady. "We can't just walk in there."
"We don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice." She opens the glove compartment, sees the gun. "Do you know how to use this?"
"Yes."
"Then teach me. Fast."
I glance at her. This broken, humiliated girl from two hours ago is gone. In her place is someone harder. Someone ready to fight.
I show her the basics while driving. Safety. Aim. Trigger. It's not enough training, but it's all we have.
We reach the storage facility with five minutes to spare.
The gate is open. Waiting for us.
"This is a trap," I say.
"I know." Ivy checks the gun, hands shaking but determined. "But they have Serena. They have Elena. We go in anyway."
I take her hand. "If things go bad, I need you to promise me something."
"Don't."
"Promise me you'll run. Save yourself."
"I'm not leaving you." Her green eyes are fierce. "Not now. Not ever. We do this together, or we don't do it at all."
I want to argue. Want to lock her in the car and face this alone.
But there's no time.
We walk into the storage facility together.
Unit 47 is at the back, exactly where Ivy said. The door is already open.
Inside, Serena is tied to a chair, tape over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Elena is beside her, unconscious, blood on her temple.
And standing behind them, gun in hand, is someone I never expected to see.
Marcus.
"Surprise," he says, smiling. "Did you really think I was just a jealous ex-boyfriend? I've been working for the people who want that flash drive since the day I met Ivy. Everything—the relationship, the humiliation, the journal—it was all to break her down. To make her run to you. To lead us right here."
Ivy's gun wavers. "You used me. For a year, you used me."
"And you made it so easy." Marcus's smile is cruel. "Pathetic little Ivy, so desperate for love. So easy to manipulate."
Behind Marcus, someone else steps out of the shadows.
My blood turns to ice.
It's James Monroe.
But he's not a prisoner.
He's holding a gun too.
And it's pointed directly at Ivy's heart.
"I'm sorry, princess," James says softly. "But you were never supposed to be anything more than a tool. And now, your usefulness has ended."