Chapter 146: Carter

Cecilia

The helicopter's spotlight locked onto the man holding me, and I watched in frozen horror as a figure leaned out from the open door—a rifle braced against their shoulder with professional precision.

The crack of the gunshot was deafening even over the rotor noise.

The man who'd been gripping my arm screamed, his hand jerking away as blood sprayed from where the bullet had torn through his wrist.

His weapon clattered to the pavement, and he stumbled backward, clutching his shattered hand to his chest while his companions scattered, diving for cover behind the overturned sedan or the SUVs that had chased us here.

More shots rang out—controlled, precise bursts that weren't meant to kill but to disable, to send a clear message that whoever was in that helicopter had the training and the firepower to end this however they wanted.

The helicopter descended rapidly, its skids touching down on the road maybe twenty feet from where I knelt with my hands still bound behind my back.

Before the aircraft had even fully settled, Arthur was jumping out, his feet hitting the pavement hard as he sprinted toward me with an expression on his face I'd never seen before—pure, unfiltered rage mixed with terror so raw it made my chest ache.

"Ceci!" His voice cut through the chaos, and then his hands were on me, gentle despite the violence of the moment, carefully cutting through the zip ties binding my wrists with a knife that appeared from somewhere. "Baby, I've got you. You're safe now."

I tried to speak, tried to tell him about Daniel and Sophia and Harold, but all that came out was a choked sob as the adrenaline that had been keeping me upright suddenly drained away, leaving me boneless and shaking in his arms.

Arthur pulled me against his chest, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other wrapped around my waist, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe.

I felt him trembling, felt the rapid hammer of his heartbeat against my cheek, and realized with distant shock that he was just as terrified as I was—maybe more so, because he'd spent the last however many hours thinking I might be dead.

"I'm okay," I managed, my voice coming out hoarse and shaky. "Arthur, I'm okay, but Daniel and Sophia—they're still tied up, and Harold—"

"I know." His voice was rough, strained with emotion he was barely keeping under control. "We're getting everyone out. Just stay with me, baby. Don't let go."

More vehicles appeared—black SUVs that I recognized as Winston Corporation security, their headlights cutting through the darkness as they formed a perimeter around the crash site.

Men in tactical gear poured out, moving with military efficiency to secure the area and round up the Grey family's people who were still conscious and capable of fighting.

Through the organized chaos, I saw Carter emerge from one of the SUVs, his usual easy charm completely absent as he surveyed the scene with cold assessment.

He spotted Arthur holding me and immediately changed direction, his eyes moving past us to where the others were still kneeling on the broken pavement, bound and surrounded by Winston security who were systematically disarming and restraining the Grey family's men.

"Arthur," Carter called out, his voice carrying easily despite the continued noise of the helicopter's idling rotors.

"We've got local police en route—they're moving on the Grey estate now. Every family member, every associate, everyone who was at that auction is being rounded up as we speak."

Arthur's arms tightened around me fractionally, and I felt him take a shaky breath. "Good. What about—"

"Max is still searching the estate," Carter interrupted, already moving toward where two Winston security personnel were cutting the zip ties from Harold's wrists.

"He's reporting that most of the family is accounted for, but—" He paused, his expression darkening. "The heir is missing. Ronan Grey. No sign of him anywhere on the property."

I felt Arthur go rigid against me, his hand moving to the small of my back in a gesture that was both protective and possessive. "Then we find him. I want every Winston asset in the UK mobilized—"

"Already done," Carter said, helping Harold to his feet. The older man swayed slightly but waved off further assistance, his jaw set with determination despite the obvious pain he was in. "Ethan's coordinating with—"

Carter stopped mid-sentence, his attention caught by something beyond Harold. His whole body went still in a way I'd never seen before, his expression shifting into something complicated—shock mixed with recognition mixed with something that looked almost like grief.

"Christ," he breathed, and I followed his gaze.

Sophia.

She was slumped on the pavement between Daniel and where I'd been kneeling moments ago, her hair matted with blood from a gash on her temple, her body limp and unresponsive as the security guard gently lowered her to lie flat on the ground.

"Sophia?" Carter's voice came out strangled, and before anyone could stop him he was moving, crossing the distance in three long strides and dropping to his knees beside her. "Sophia, can you hear me?"

His hands hovered over her for a second, like he was afraid to touch her, afraid she might shatter. Then he was checking her pulse at her neck, his fingers pressing against her throat with the kind of careful precision that suggested he'd done this before.

"She's breathing," he said, but his voice shook slightly. "Pulse is steady but weak. Someone get a medic over here, now!"

One of the Winston security team members—a woman with EMT patches on her tactical vest—hurried over with a medical kit, kneeling on Sophia's other side and immediately beginning to assess her injuries.

Carter didn't move, didn't step back to give her space, just stayed there with his hand still pressed to Sophia's neck like he needed the physical confirmation that she was alive.

"Mr. Ashford," the medic said gently, "I need to examine her head wound. If you could just—"

"I'm not leaving her." The words came out flat, brooking no argument, and something in his tone made the medic simply nod and work around him.

I felt Arthur's arms tighten around me as we watched this unfold, and when I glanced up at his face I saw understanding there—recognition of exactly what was happening, of the way Carter's carefully constructed walls were crumbling in real-time.

"She helped me," I said quietly, my voice barely audible over the helicopter noise and the chaos of the scene. "Arthur, she helped me. She risked everything to—"

"I know," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Carter can explain later. Right now we need to get everyone to a hospital."

"Get her in the helicopter," Arthur ordered, his voice taking on that commanding tone that made people move without question. "Daniel too. We're taking everyone to London General—they have a trauma unit that can handle this."

Two security members moved to lift Sophia, but Carter was already there, sliding his arms under her shoulders and knees with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the violence still echoing around us. "I've got her," he said, his voice rough.