Chapter 244
Serena
"If the police had him, he'd be alive. Arrested, yes. Facing serious charges, absolutely. But alive." Vincent's jaw clenched. "Out there, on the run? Thomas has already made calls. There's a rival gang—one with a long-standing grudge against Obsidian Brotherhood. They're hunting him."
The room spun. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think past the image of Wesley alone, bleeding, dying in some alley while we stood here safe and useless.
I lunged at Lance without thinking, fists connecting with his chest as I screamed at him.
"This was your plan? This was your fucking solution? You sent him to his death!" Each word was punctuated by another blow, tears streaming down my face. "He's out there because of us. Because he was trying to protect us, and now he's going to die because you—"
Lance caught my wrists, his own composure finally cracking. For just a moment, I saw raw panic flash across his features before he buried it.
"I will keep him safe." His voice shook. "Serena, I swear to you, I will not let anything happen to Wesley."
"You'd better." I was crying openly now, ugly and desperate. "You'd better, Lance, because if he dies—"
I couldn't finish. Couldn't articulate the depth of guilt and rage and terror churning in my gut.
Lance pulled out his phone, fingers flying across the screen with frantic speed. I watched him type, delete, retype. Watched the muscle in his jaw tick as he sent message after message to god knows who.
The sight of his obvious fear somehow made mine more bearable. At least I wasn't alone in this. At least he understood what was at stake.
When he finally lowered the phone, I forced myself to take a breath. Then another.
"He'll be okay," I whispered, more prayer than statement. "He has to be okay."
But Vincent's expression hadn't improved. If anything, he looked worse.
"What?" The word came out sharp, accusatory. "What aren't you telling us?"
Vincent's shoulders sagged. "The arrested gang members? They're claiming Lance and Serena were the ones who orchestrated everything. That you two have been involved in multiple illegal operations. The police are opening an investigation."
He paused, meeting our eyes with obvious reluctance.
"I think you both need to disappear for a while. Just until things cool down."
The suggestion ignited something in me. Something hot and furious that burned away the fear, the guilt, everything except pure, incandescent rage.
"No." My voice was steady now. Deadly. "Fuck that. Fuck hiding. We are not running away while Wesley is out there fighting for his life."
I turned to Lance, ready to see agreement in his face. Ready to start planning our counterattack.
Instead, I watched something shift behind his eyes. Watched him straighten, his features settling into that terrible, resolute mask I'd come to recognize.
"Vincent." His tone was flat. Final. "Take her somewhere safe."
Time stopped.
"What?" I couldn't have heard him right. Couldn't have just heard Lance Lawson, the man who'd made me promise never to face danger alone, tell his assistant to remove me from the equation.
"I'm ending this today." Lance wasn't looking at me anymore. Couldn't seem to, which somehow made it worse. "Wesley's situation. Thomas's role in my mother's death. Felix's crimes. All of it. But you—" His voice cracked. "You shouldn't be part of this. I won't make you complicit in what I have to do."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I tried to move toward him, but Vincent stepped subtly into my path. "What am I to you, Lance? Some delicate flower that needs protecting? Some liability you have to manage?"
He flinched but still wouldn't meet my eyes. "Vincent. Now."
"Lance—"
"I'll send word when it's safe. When it's over." Finally, finally, he looked at me, and the anguish in his face nearly broke me. "Please, Serena. Please just let me keep you safe this one time."
"I don't want to be kept safe!" I was shouting now, struggling against Vincent's suddenly iron grip on my arm. "I want to fight with you, you stubborn bastard. I want to—"
"I'm sorry." Vincent's voice in my ear, quiet and apologetic. "I'm sorry, Miss Vance, but he's right. We need to move you somewhere they can't find you."
His arm locked around my waist, professional and implacable. I tried to break free, but Vincent had at least eighty pounds on me and training I couldn't hope to match.
Lance had already hit the elevator button.
"No." I was still fighting, still furious, but underneath it all was something worse. Something that felt like abandonment. Like being left behind while everyone I cared about walked into fire. "Lance, don't you dare—"
The elevator doors opened with a cheerful ding that felt obscene given the circumstances.
Vincent guided me inside with a gentleness that made it somehow worse. I could have forgiven force. Couldn't forgive this careful, considerate handling, like I was something precious and breakable.
"Trust him," Vincent murmured as he positioned himself between me and the closing doors. "He has a plan. He always has a plan."
But I wasn't looking at Vincent. I was looking at Lance, standing alone in his living room, shoulders squared like he was preparing for war. His eyes met mine in that final second before the doors slid shut, and I saw everything he was trying to hide.
The fear. The determination. The absolute certainty that he might not survive whatever came next.
"Please," I whispered, though I didn't know if he could hear me. "Please don't die."